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gurugirl · 5 months

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Intuition | bfd!harry

Summary: Harry's got a surprise for you.

A/N: It's been a while! Enjoy!!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, fluff, breeding kink, age gap

Best Friend's Dad!Harry masterlist

Harry was up to something. You knew he was. You’d been around him long enough to know the signs that he was keeping a secret. He was trying to act normal. All lovey with lots of touches. He came home from work that evening with this look on his face like he had a secret he wanted to tell you but had to wait.

“What is it? What are you smirking about? I can tell you want to say something,” you poked his ribs after he got out of the shower and you stood next to him in the bathroom in front of the mirror.

“I’m not smirking,” he smirked.

“Yes, you are!” You laughed and pointed at his reflection in the mirror.

He licked his lips and tried to hide his smile but the dimples remained deep in his cheeks as he turned toward you and wrapped you in his arms. He was still damp after his shower. The towel around his waist tucked in well so it didn’t slide off when he moved his hands up your back and pulled your face to his, pressing his mouth against yours.

He was definitely hiding something. Trying to distract you. And the distraction did work eventually when he got your clothes off and tossed you in your bed and shut you up by making love to you.

“You want a baby? Yeah? Want to be a mommy, Y/n?” Harry was driving into you deep and then pulling out to his crown over and over again, long deep, slow strokes that had you at his mercy.

And you did want that. Harry’s divorce was finalized. It felt like it took so long and the stress that you two went through was difficult but it had been worth it. He was done with Mrs. Styles, who was going to be changing her last name back to her maiden name. You didn’t feel elated about it all, but it was nice to have that chapter over with. You’d never fully recover from the guilt of what you two had done but you couldn’t help that you’d fallen in love with him.

“Put a baby in me, Harry. Want to make you a daddy…” you moaned when he smacked his hips against yours with a thud.

And even though he was already a dad you loved saying it like that. Telling him you’d make him a daddy and he’d talk about making you a mommy and it was so hot. And truth be told, being off birth control had boosted your libido and you wanted it all the time. You hadn’t realized the way your hormones would react to going off it.

“Fuck me, sweet girl… Gonna put a ring on this finger,” he groaned as he took your left hand in his, weaving his fingers between yours and gripping your jaw with his other hand, “Gonna be such a good mommy to my babies…”

The bed under your back was creaking as he thrust and your pussy was so wet the sound would have been comical if you weren’t so gone for it. Gone for Harry.

“Mmm… get it in there deep, just like that…”

Harry rocked into you, keeping his hips glued to yours and you inhaled sharply at the pinch in your cervix. Every time he shoved himself all the way in it ached but you only wanted more and more. Loved that he was tucked into you so far that when he’d come there was less distance for his sperm to travel to get where you wanted it to end up.

“Like that, baby?” Harry looked down at you and tightened his hand around yours as you trembled and puffed out a loud moan, “Gonna come on my cock and let me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes!”

Harry’s deep groans were egging you on. It felt so good. It always did. Harry was a good lover. The best lover.

The front of his muscled thighs were pinned against yours and when he dropped his mouth to your lips you couldn’t hold back a moment longer.

Pulsing and clenching around him as he licked into your mouth, your head was blurry and your heart was pounding and then his orgasm rocked his body as he let out a strangled cry and pumped everything he had into your tummy.

And needless to say, you were out like a light once you’d gotten cleaned up and he tucked you into bed, holding you in his arms and the conversation about what he was hiding was once again on hold.

. . .

“You’re still here?” You looked at the clock on your bedside table and over to Harry in bed who was stretching his limbs and yawning.

“Mmhmm… Took off today.”

You grinned and rolled toward him, placing your palm on his chest, “That’s nice. Is there a reason you took off?”

That look again. The one that said he was holding something in appeared and he smiled at you, his hand cupping your face, “There is a reason. Yes.”

“Okay. What is it?” You cocked your head with your eyebrows raised.

“A surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“A surprise? Oh, come on! Tell me what it is!” You sat up and got to your knees with a wide grin, “You gotta tell me what’s going on!”

Harry’s soft eyes dropped down over your tits and your tummy and he grabbed your hips, bringing you down to his chest, “You don’t listen very well do you?” He swatted at your bottom making you puff out a laugh, “Said… you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Harry!” You groaned and tried to pull yourself up but he tightened his arms around you so you couldn’t budge.

“Y/n!” He mocked your voice and you laughed at his attempt at speaking in your tone.

“If I give you a blowie will you tell me?”

Harry sat quietly for a moment and let out a breath, “I’ll tell you regardless. You just gotta be patient. But I’ll take a blowie if you’re offering.”

Of course, that wasn’t the answer you wanted so you wound up wiggling from his arms and pulling his t-shirt on before sauntering out of the room to start the coffee.

You were anxious though. You wondered what the surprise was. Why Harry needed to take a whole day off work. What it was he’d been keeping from you…

But there was something else as well; All his recent comments about putting a ring on your finger. You thought it was possible that maybe he was going to propose too. It was no secret that he intended to keep you around. You’d both talked about ‘forever’. Obviously. What with the talk of having a baby and getting a place together.

And there was also the fact that your lease was coming up very soon. So soon it was giving you anxiety because you hadn’t really begun to look for a new apartment, outside of viewing a few houses that were for sale and Harry reassured and told you not to worry about it. You trusted him but there was that little question in the back of your mind that he was perhaps getting things set up for you without you knowing.

Those were just guesses, though. Whatever it was Harry was planning was something you were looking forward to learning.

“What should I wear for this surprise?” You held up a dress against your body as Harry entered your bedroom.

“Whatever you want. Whatever you feel best in.”

“Should I pack a bag? Bring tennis shoes? Will pictures be involved?” You were trying to get it out of him. He wasn’t giving you anything, though.

“No need to pack anything. If you want to wear tennis shoes you can. Just trust me when I say you don’t need to worry. Okay?”

Harry was wearing his typical getup. Jeans and a t-shirt so you just decided to go casual as well. But you did make sure you looked cute. Just in case pictures would be part of the surprise.

He was excited to show you what he’d done. He hoped you didn’t freak out. There were moments when he thought he should have you involved but he wanted to surprise you. Wanted to make it special. He didn’t get lots of chances to do things like this with you. And maybe he’d gone a little overboard on this but he’d committed and couldn’t back out now.

Your mind raced with the possibilities of what he had planned. You felt like it was something big. You braced yourself to be surprised. And boy were you when you pulled into that familiar neighborhood with the cute house you looked at with Harry months before. The one with the yard he couldn’t stop talking about.

“Harry…” you warned in surprise when he pulled into the driveway of the three-bedroom house and turned off the car engine.

“What?” He raised his brows at you in question, as if he couldn’t fathom what you were surprised by.

“What is… what’s going on?”

Harry didn’t answer as he climbed out of the car and you opened the passenger door and stepped out, looking up at the house and then at Harry.

He grinned at you and reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys with a pretty pink and silver key chain that read, “Home Sweet Home.”

You covered your mouth when he placed the keys in your hand and then he nudged you toward the house, “Know you loved this place. So I bought it for us. It’s ours. Finished up all the closing of it a few days ago and took today off so we could celebrate.”

Harry had his own set of keys as he unlocked the door and opened it up for you to enter first. You did love the house when you first viewed it.

And now there was a table with dining chairs and a big beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center.

“I’ve put a bed in the master bedroom already. King size. No more double bed for us, baby,” he grinned as you looked around. You were stunned that he’d gone and gotten a mortgage on a house and went through the whole process without you knowing.

“I can’t believe you did this.”

Harry stepped in front of you and pulled you into his arms, “For us. For our family. For you.”

You walked through the house again to get reacquainted. Harry had done the smallest bit of furnishing but mostly it was bare. Ready to be furnished and decorated. The bedroom he had nearly ready. The bed was huge and it had sheets and fluffy blankets atop, a dresser, and a side table on both sides. The ensuite had towels and he’d bought soap and lotion. But when he brought you down to the kitchen the fridge was mostly empty but there was a container of something (something sweet he said) along with a bottle of champagne.

Of course, Harry popped the bottle and pulled out two champagne flutes from the cupboard and you clinked glasses before sipping the bubbly drink.

“To me and you. To forever. I love you,” he spoke as he took your hand in his and lifted it up to kiss your knuckles.

“I love you too, Harry. I know I’ve been really quiet but I’m just processing all this. It’s a shock. But I’m so happy. I can’t believe it.”

You carried your glass of champagne with you into the backyard, which still looked terrible, but it was spacious and Harry shared with you his vision again. What it could look like…

You watched him wave his arms around as he kept looking at you as he spoke, “And this… we can just have a nice patch of flowers. The shade is perfect here and it’ll really brighten up this corner. The tree will need trimmed back but it’s going to be perfect to hang a swing off of and little string lights for nighttime. We’ll put some outdoor furniture on the patio after I clean it all up. Trim out the weeds and fill in the spaces that got overgrown…”

A soft smile covered your face as you watched how excited he was. You were excited too, though. Everything was perfect for you two in that moment. You had the love of your life with you and he had bought a house to make a home in. A place he wanted to share with you. A man you trusted and found yourself falling more in love with every day.

You placed your glass down on the brick ledge near the patio and stepped in front of Harry as he was still yammering on about what he would do with the space and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his pecs, “I love it, Harry. It’s perfect.”

And your hormones were raging as you inhaled his scent and he squeezed his strong arms around you. It didn’t help that he kept talking about children running around, what with you ovulating like you were. You had been keeping close track of it and after months of being off birth control, you were finally starting to feel like your body was adjusting to its natural cycle.

Tilting your head back to look up at him you saw him already looking down at you, “Let’s go test out that bed.”

And now it was Harry’s hormones that were raging. He practically dragged you to the master bedroom and you found yourself testing out the bed just as you asked.

“How do you like it?” Harry panted as he sunk into you over and over again.

You were out of breath as you squeaked out a sound of approval.

“That good huh? Gonna make me a daddy? Gonna let me fill you up with babies, Y/n?”

Harry wasn’t gentle as he pumped into you, harsh thuds against you where he’d grind down every time he buried himself into the hilt. He pulled back, nearly completely out before snapping his hips forward into yours. He set the most delicious cadence, thick shaft filling you and rearranging your insides.

When he slowed down he dropped his mouth against yours, rolling into your wet pussy.

“I’m ovulating,” you breathed against his mouth. You were finally able to speak now that he was fucking into you more languidly.

Harry parted from the kiss with a filthy grin on his face, “Is that right little girl? I get to fuck my come into your fertile pussy?”

“Mmm… yes sir… fuck me til it sticks. Want it so bad. Want your babies and your come…”

The new bed was sturdy, unlike the old one at your apartment. No squeaking or creaking or headboard ramming into the walls… just the sound of your creamy pussy wrapped around Harry’s fat cock and the slap of skin.

It was an excellent way to celebrate the purchase of the new house. A little champagne and a good fucking in the new bed… and hopefully it would end with you pregnant.

You’d never had baby fever or whatever this was. But something about Harry just did it for you. You wanted him in every way. Wanted to show everyone how he was yours, that you’d won, that no one could come between you two. Logically you understood the flaw of that thinking, but logic flew out the window every time he was balls deep; that masculine body over yours, his deep voice saying filthy sweet things in your ear, and his big cock that had you hooked since that first day at your apartment all that time ago.

“Oh my god, baby… look a’that…” Harry shifted himself and lifted your hips so you could glimpse the way he was filling you slowly and pulling back, shiny arousal coating his shaft, “Made for each other.” He began to thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rolled into you, eyes on the action happening where you were connected “Feels good doesn’t it?”

You nodded, “You always feel so good, Harry. I need you…”

He moaned, “I know, baby… I need you too.”

You rocked your hips into his hand as he continued fucking into you until he moved again, tilting himself over you and taking the back of your neck in his big palm, and pressing his lips to yours.

Harry’s hips were glued to yours as he pushed into you, ensuring he stayed nice and deep, massaging your inner walls with every thrust in. The pressure of your orgasm built and built as he lapped his tongue against yours and tucked his cock deeper and deeper until he was no longer rearing back, his pelvis rolling over your clit.

Soft whimpers and pants were muffled from your mouth as he kept your lips occupied with his own.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier as he pressed himself to you and you could feel him trembling. When he moaned against your mouth and rutted in smooth and deep he hit something achy, you simply came undone. Harry had to lift his mouth from yours as you moaned and he gasped at the way you were gripping him and pulsing around him until he couldn’t hold back and pumped into you, stuffing you with his come.

It was a favorite. The feel of his throbbing cock releasing inside you. That way you knew your pussy was siphoning every drop from him and how good your cunt felt on him. His soft whimpered moans as he stilled his hips against yours and twitched until he was milked dry, balls properly drained.

Lying in bed together, limbs wrapped up and sweaty bodies breathing and flushed hot post-orgasm you turned to look at him and lifted your knee, draping your thigh over his hip, “I love you.”

Harry moaned and opened his eyes and pulled at you, his arms wrapping around you, “I love you, baby.”

“I’m pretty sure that was it.”

Harry turned his eyes and looked at you, “What was it?”

You grinned and drew your hand up his strong chest, “Well, we’ll see… but I think you just got me pregnant.”

Harry laughed and you giggled with him. Mostly it was just a tease. You’d have no way of really knowing at that point. But something in your gut told you that there was a good chance of it.

“And what makes you think of all the times we’ve gone at it since you’ve been off birth control that this was the one?”

“Well… it’s been months since I got off birth control and for the past couple of weeks I’ve really been more in tune with my body because of it and my ovulation cycle is starting to get to normal and today my insides were aching and I knew the only thing that would make me feel better was to orgasm and that’s because I’m ovulating.”

Harry grinned and ran his thumb over your neck, “Well I fucked you this morning after coffee, baby. Maybe the one from this morning got you knocked up.”

Biting your lip you slid yourself over Harry and straddled his lap, taking his hands and bringing his palms up to cup your tits, “Either way… feel this?” You squeezed around his hands over your tender breasts, “Haven’t had swollen breasts in a really long time. The ovulation is strong this month. And today it’s at its height. My whole body wants to be pregnant.”

The soft gaze on Harry’s face as he looked into your eyes was full of affection and love as he pressed over your nipples, “Extra fertile today, yeah? Then let me recover a bit and I’ll fuck you again. Just in case third time’s a charm, ya know?”

You laughed, “I mean the day is still early. I think I’m gonna need lots of orgasms today to feel better and you’re just the man to give them to me. Plus, we need to celebrate properly.”

He pulled you down, pressing your chest against his, and groped the globes of your ass in his hands, “Well sounds like I’m gonna have to go buy sparkling grape juice for you, huh Mama?”

You both cackled loudly as soon as he said it. And you both understood it was just post-sex hormones talking in that moment. But you’d know soon enough if your intuition was right. You hoped it was.

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wttcsms · 27 days

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౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ you know i'll take you there

ᝰ.ᐟ shinsuke isn't too happy after your little escape attempt, and he makes it known. (fem!reader)

word count 2.5k content contains mating press, creampie, yakuza au, yandere themes, dubcon, praise kink, pet names (good girl), depictions of violence (not towards reader) author's notes sorry for lack of context; this is meant to take place after this fic concept

Shinsuke Kita doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger on a gun.

The recoil doesn’t even register for him; when you do something for so long, eventually, it just becomes second nature. Like the mechanical movements you do when you brush your teeth, or the way you can tie your sneakers without having to actually look at the laces — shooting someone in the head is a mundane thing for Kita, for his line of work. He does it so often, has practiced it ever since he was a young boy, that what he does after is muscle memory. He removes the handkerchief from his suit and wipes the tiny splatter of blood that ended up getting on his cheek. He folds the sullied handkerchief neatly, tucking it away in the inner pocket of his suit. He makes sure the safety on his gun is in place, and he nods for Aran to drag the dead body away.

When Aran takes his leave, the still-warm corpse in tow, the only people left in the room are Kita and a very scared young man.

One of these men will be leaving this room, and the other will be hoping for a death as swift and merciful as the flawless execution Kita just delivered.

“I told you there would be consequences,” Kita doesn’t taunt his victims. He’s not the type to do so. Cold and calculated — his own gang considers him to be a robot, and for the longest time, Kita agreed with them. But that was then, and this is now. Now, Kita has a reason to drag out his torture. Now, Kita understands what it’s like to find his very reason for existing. His purpose isn’t to lead one of the biggest yakuza families in the underground criminal world of Japan. His purpose is to devote his very being to you, and vice versa.

So imagine how heartbroken he felt when he caught you trying to escape from the farmhouse he built for the two of you. And this man, a low-level runt in his group, had been foolish enough to give in and help you.

“Please, sir, I wanted no part in the escape! She begged me, she—”

“She’ll receive her own punishment. I value fairness, after all.” Kita interrupts him, sounding as cold as the blood running through the young man’s veins. He’s frozen in fear as he tries to stammer out more excuses, more explanations, more promises to do better in the future but—

—there really isn’t much of a future for him. Not one that he’ll be happy to live in, at least. Kita is fair; having you slip away would have killed him internally. So now, Kita has to kill this man internally. Crush his spirit. Make him dream of death, dangle death in front of his face like a treat to a dog, but never, ever allow him such a kindness.

(Kita is a fair leader, but very rarely is he kind.

Kindness will get you killed.

The boy dumb enough to help you — he’s kind.)

Kita retrieves a knife from one of the inconspicuous cabinets in this room. The fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling casts a warm glow over the both of them, but the blade of the knife reflects back the light, makes it shine in the poor boy’s face. He flinches.

“Do you remember?” Kita asks him, turning the knife as if to inspect it from every angle.

“Wh-what?” He stutters out, sounding breathless. He might be on the verge of a panic attack. That’ll make things messier than they need to be.

“Do you remember what hand you used when you held hers?” Kita clarifies. He sounds calm, but the sight of another man holding your hand had him seething. Even now, it takes everything in him to not plunge the knife right into this young man’s heart, to twist the blade ‘round his insides, make him hurt like how Kita hurt when he witnessed it.

“It was your left hand.” Kita answers for him. “Fortunately, you’re right-handed. Surely it won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you after I’m done sawing it off.”

Kita’s chopped off a few fingers and one hand before, but never has he attempted to do it with a medium sized knife. A knife with a purposely dull blade.

He smiles faintly. Sometimes, it can be fun to break routine and try new things.

You’re in bed by the time Kita returns home. He’s back later than he expects; it turns out, his little experiment with the dull blade is very, very messy. Maybe with practice, he’ll perfect that, too. That boy still has another hand to spare, after all.

Feeling satisfied with himself, Kita starts humming gently as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. Before you, Kita never bothered making unnecessary noise. He rarely listened to music, but now—

The sting of your betrayal has lessened considerably. Kita isn’t even upset with you anymore. It’s normal for couples to fight and want to storm out on each other, but what matters most is that at the end of the day, he’s coming home to find you warming his bed.

In his line of work, simple pleasures aren’t usually so sweet.

You don’t stir when he joins you in bed, the mattress dipping just the slightest bit due to the sudden shift in weight, but he makes his presence hard to ignore, even in your slumber, when he presses his chest against your back, his lips nipping gently on the soft skin of your ears.

You whine, your eyesight blurry as your eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. You’re instantly aware of Kita’s body covering your own, and when he feels the subtle shivers of your body, the both of you know it’s not because of the chill of the air conditioner.

He makes a tiny grunt of disapproval. Even after all this time, you’re scared of him? Silly girl — he’d never do anything to hurt you.

Well, nothing that would hurt you too badly.

“Did ya have a good dream?” He asks you, breath warm against your ear.

You swallow hard, not brave enough to shift your body. Ever since the truth came out, the fact that sweet Shinsuke is more than just an average overworked businessman but is a yakuza crime boss, things have never been the same between you two. Kita is nothing if not persistent, though. He still cuddles up against you, he still whispers sweet nothings in your ear, he’s still affectionate and downright loving in every action he does towards you.

He knows not to expect an answer from you, especially when he plays with the bottom hem of your silk nightgown. “Wish ya would tell me what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.”

You can picture him frowning; as perceptive as he is, you know that he prefers hearing your thoughts directly from you.

“What happened to Goto?” You dare to ask, and the air seems to shift in your bedroom.

Kita is gripping the soft flesh of your thighs, his hand large and imposing, rough with calluses and forever red with blood. You never really learn, you suppose, about how there’s a time and place for such questions.

“Goto received his punishment.” Kita answers calmly, voice steady but cold. “And I nearly forgot about yours.”

Liar. You want to call him out, but you at least have enough self-preservation to bite your tongue. As if Kita would ever forget. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since your little escape attempt.

Kita adores you, loves you, because in a world of greedy, nasty, spiteful little creatures, you are kind and caring and full of the sugary sweet goodness he’s always going to have a taste for. It’s why he’s not surprised when you ask him,

“Is he… alive?”

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Is that what you’re really worried about? Goto, over the broken heart of your husband?”

When you don’t answer, Kita tightens his grip on your thigh, contemplating his next move, before he lets his hand travel to the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing against your bare cunt. He’s pleased to find out that you’re still his obedient, sweet girl, following his direct order of going to bed without a bra or panties. Some nights, he’s so tired, any excess fabric is a hindrance.

“If you have a heart, you’ll tell me what happened to him.” You mumble, trying to ignore the way your body craves for Kita’s touch. Before the truth of his second life came out, you were an addict for him. No one has ever touched him the way he’s touched you, and even now, when you want to ignore him and try to remind yourself of what an awful person he truly is, you can’t.

There’s a traitorous part of your heart and soul that still longs for Kita, no matter the truth.

“It’s because I have a heart that I didn’t kill him.” Kita isn’t lying. The torture was for his pleasure, sure, but he knows how upset and inconsolable you would be if you felt like you were responsible for Goto’s death. The register of his voice lowers as he speaks again, though. His warning leaves you frozen in fear.

“If his filthy hands ever touch you again, I’ll kill him.”

There are a litany of reasons why you find yourself in the position you’re currently in: wanting, waiting, whining for Kita. Fear, for one thing. You feel compelled to do whatever he wants, considering the sheer difference in strength and power between the two of you. But try as you might, it’s hard to ignore the tiny, nagging voice in your head that lulls you into a state of docile desire. Kita’s always taken care of you, right? You were in love with him, for fuck’s sake. And as you ride his fingers, content to wrap your warm, wet heat around three of his digits as he chuckles at your wanton display, that nagging voice reminds you that you still do — love him, that is.

Three fingers buried deeply in the warmth of your cunt is enough to make you forget about the events leading up to tonight. He withdraws his fingers, much to your displeasure, and you whine out for him to continue with his ministrations before he shuts you up by forcing you to suck his thumb. You can feel the rough skin of his finger on your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, treating this situation as if you were about to suck his cock, and your tongue laps at the pad of his thumb before he removes it from your mouth.

Without any preamble, he’s back to burying his fingers into your pussy, his thumb — wet with your saliva — pressed firmly against your clit.

“Do you wish it was my cock filin’ you up?” He grunts out, rubbing mercilessly against your clit as you continue to writhe against the bedsheets. Your cheeks feel warm, blood rushing up to your chest and face, and you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing your answer. A shameless, pitiful yes.

“You’re so beautiful, so sweet, so kind.” In his world, kindness gets you killed. Kita’s no different from any other man in his line of work, and it’s why he’s ravaging you right now. Pumping his fingers in and out of your slick hole, making a mess of his fingers, of your pussy, of the bedsheets, of you. It’s why every time he brings you to your climax, you cum violently. You’re letting out a string of stuttered, fractured fucks mixed in with sharp intakes of breath and Shinsuke’s, and you buck your hips wildly against his fingers, pushing his digits even further in as you cum.

With your mind hazy from pleasure, your brain scrambled from sleepiness and an intense orgasm, Kita wastes no time pouncing on you. There’s no chance for you to beg for him to wait, and you register that this must be your punishment.

Shinsuke is going to fuck you without any of his normal restraint.

He slides in your sopping wet cunt in one sharp thrust, burying his thick cock deep into your warm, snug hole. He likes having a routine, he likes having set boundaries and rules, he likes being a man of practicality. But right now, he’s fucking you like a wild beast. All you can do is just take it; take his relentless thrusts, his anger, his need to dominate you, to remind you who you belong to.

“Open up.” He demands, his voice rough and thick with desire. You comply; it’s so easy, considering that you haven’t been able to hold back a single moan as he has his way with you. He spits directly into your mouth, watching the way his saliva sits on the surface of your pink tongue. He doesn’t need to command you to swallow, because you do, savoring the taste of him.

He makes you look him in the eyes as he fucks into you relentlessly. One hand is gripping your hip, practically crushing you as he pounds into your pussy. You’re so fucking wet that the sounds of him moving in and out of your cunt are so lewd, so loud. The inescapable burn of pain and pleasure, the sensitivity of your cunt having to endure his insatiable lust, has you moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Shin— Shinsuke! G-gonna cum!” You squeak out, and it only motivates Kita to double down. He holds up your legs, your limbs burning from the stretch as he continues to get rougher with his movements. You’re looking at him with a dazed, fucked out expression, and he has the audacity to let out a chuckle.

“There’s my good girl.” He praises you, spitting into your open mouth once more.

With your legs trembling and the foggy haze of pleasure clouding your head, you greedily, happily accept his praise. Your legs press tightly against his sides, and with his spit in your mouth and his cock drilling into you with even sharper movements than before, you cum.

Kita lets out a grunt of approval as he finishes inside of you, a load of hot seed pouring deep inside of you as he keeps your legs folded, his hips pressed against yours, as if he wants to plug you up with his cum. He kisses your forehead that’s glistening with sweat from the heat of his body colliding with yours; it seems the two orgasms he wrung out of you have taken its toll on your body. You’re a pliant, fucked out little mess — his pliant, fucked out little mess.

“Good girl.” He murmurs sweetly. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say it back. He just pulls out his cock a bit before thrusting back into you. This action causes you to let out another long, drawn out moan. He’s absolutely relentless, and as tired as you are, you realize that you don’t want him to stop.

(Pity that you’re not capable of speech at the moment.

Because you would have told him that you love him, too.)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #shinsuke kita x reader #kita x reader #hq smut #kita smut #hq x reader #one shot #drabble #yakuza au #yandere haikyuu #ahhh the first drabble since my lil event LOL #sorry for the wait i just haven't been writing and wow #im so out of it

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sushirrrry · 8 months

Text

wrangled

a harry styles one-shot. 14k words. cw: age-gap, sexual content, spitting, spanking, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation kink, coarse language, dom/sub kink

Forte Ranch.

Kettle Falls, Washington.

June Forte is the 24 year old daughter of Travis Forte– the owner of the largest bison ranch in eastern Washington. When she returned home from college, her wishes of becoming a teacher in the area land her with a few different jobs– one that also includes the family business.

It's not lost on her that when she starts noticing that a superbly handsome, older ranch-hand who introduces himself in a deep-posh accent as Harry Styles, that she seems to lose a bit of focus on the picture: make enough money to leave Kettle Falls for good.

But, the older man seems to keep running into her no matter how many times she tries to leave. Maybe, she recognizes, that it isn't a coincidence.

When Harry and June are one day left alone, the tensions are higher than ever. Once June gets a taste, her intuition starts to let her know that maybe seeing the dimples underneath the brim of the Stetson is easier to lean into rather than run from.

He's not letting her run away that easy.

"Goddamnit, Fury– let's go!"

She pulled at the lead; the rope pulled at her hands a bit when the horse continued to stand his ground, obviously more powerful than her.

A quick sigh, a puff of air to move some of the hair off of her face. June couldn't help but groan at the horse's stubbornness that kept him inside the confines of his stall.

She had a lesson in an hour now. Not that it would have been a huge deal— the family that she taught for were very laid back, but her need to follow a schedule made Fury's outburst quite annoying as it would take a bit of time to get him out now.

The horse-riding lessons that she had been giving were supplementing the cash flow through the summer. Next year, she would be starting a position as a teacher at one of the local schools in the area. June had gone to school in Seattle; it was the biggest culture shock for her when she arrived in the big city.

From growing up on the ranch to moving to the big city with just what she could fit in her dad's pick-up–she had loved every moment of it. She loved seeing the way that the traffic built up everywhere in the early mornings, the honking horns, the sleepy travelers in the coffee shops every morning.

It was a learning experience that she had been blessed with. But, in reality, her heart stayed in the eastern mountains; the smell of the fresh air every morning gave her such a high that she hadn't been expecting to miss with her whole heart.

Living on this ranch, in this small town, had been in her heart this whole time. She hadn't recognized how much of her she still had to learn.

When you're young, you want so bad to leave. Then, you see the rest of the world, and you find home so much more appealing. It feels secure, it feels like a place that you can come back to when you're finished exploring.

It's a place to relax. A place to replenish. A place to house your soul.

Now, she say her fighting with her horse who seemed to have the upper-hand.

"Fury, if you don't come on," She rubbed the horse's nose, giving him a look as he tilted up his head quickly. "You're being so stub—"

"Might wanna give him something to entice him."

The sound behind her makes June jump with a fright, a gasp escaping as she had been lost in her own world. There's a man standing on the opposite side of her now, unlocking the gate of the horse stall. She hadn't noticed him before, so she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her struggle with the ropes her hands.

A chestnut mare stands, grunts softly in front of him as he looks back at her. June recognized the man, which didn't seem to happen often. The farm has lots of people coming through, many stay for weeks– months, maybe. The summer months are preparing for the winter; she knew that a lot more came around at this time of the year.

But she recognized him.

There wasn't a person who wouldn't.

The man's accent threw her for a moment– not realizing if she had heard him speak before. She mustn't have, or she'd know the low drawl of a foreign tongue.

But there's a few certain men that have been around for a bit. This man, in particular, she thought. He wears his hair longer, a bit down on his ears. He pushes it back into his Stetson, the chocolate curls have grown every time she sees him closer.

He has a soft scruff along his jawline that was really only visible up close; a white tank top that has seen better days when it was a pure white on the rack. June lets her eyes wander for a moment before she sees that he notices, a hint of pink painting her cheeks as she watches that he seems to go on about his day without another word.

Not to mention: if you stared at him in the heat of the eastern Washington sun, it was entirely too close to see the shade of green that his eyes shone. They practically became translucent at how luminous they became.

June was a bit taken; her hands adjust on the lead as she watched the man throw a bridle over the large mare's nose. He clicked his tongue to get her to follow, the mare following him out of the stall easily. June watched at how easy it was; she knew Fury was a bit hard-headed to begin with, so it couldn't have been that easy no matter what he had said to her.

As the man started walking away just a bit, Fury took a step forward which helped June aid him out of the stall. It threw her for a moment, her body moving forward to help lead the horse where he needed. He followed, though a bit slowly as he shook his head when she pulled in the lead towards the saddling.

"See, told you," The man spoke once again, nodding his head a bit towards his mare, "Men are always enticed by pretty ladies."

He had taken the saddle off of the stand, throwing it over the mare's back. June's eyes stared at the way his muscles popped through the sleeveless shirt, pushing the heavy riding saddle up further on the horses back.

"Going for a ride?" The man spoke again, watching as June hooked Fury up to stand so that he was secured. June hadn't spoken yet, feeling her voice caught in her throat over the way that he had been a bit chatty with her. Her eyes drifted over to him, knowing he had been talking to her again which elicited a response.

She bit her lip, pulling up on the loops of her jeans that hugged around the curve of her hips.

"No, I teach, actually." June commented, brushing down Fury's neck before pushing some of his mane out of his eyes.

The horse chewed a bit, making her smile as his lips tried to nip at her arm. "Have a lesson soon. He's the best with kids, gives them a hard time but it's good for them to learn how to be a bit more assertive. He listens when you're real strict with him, just not well."

"Really all the qualities of a man, huh?" The man smirked; they stood next to each other at the station before June looked over and he had started to move towards her. His hand outreached, his eyes truly on her now as they became closer with each step he took. "Harry Styles."

June swallowed back, her hand moving out towards his as they locked together in a moment. "June Forte. You're a worker here?"

Harry's eyes shift for a moment when he notices the deep blue of her eyes and the familiarity of her generational smile. His tongue flicks out to run over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes drag over her a moment. June squirms under his vision, her breath halted as he takes his hand away and their touch loosens.

"And this is your ranch, I presume." He speaks, his words standing in the air.

June shrugs her shoulders up as if his comment didn't mean much. "Not mine– well, my family's, so technically will be mine or my siblings someday. My dad's dream was to own it, and I guess now he does. Was my grandads, and my great-grandads. He built it, and it's just a family heirloom now. But yeah– we live up there."

Harry's breath baited for a moment, a small scoff of a chuckle leaving his lips as he moved back towards the mare. The mare stomped on the ground, his hand moving to comfort her outburst.

"Guess I don't need to be flirting with the ranch owner's daughter, then. May be a conflict of interest."

June raised a brow at his words, feeling a hotness come across her neck as she moved to throw the big brush through Fury's chestnut coat. She faced away from him now, her head turning to look over her shoulder at the way he continued to smirk at her.

For the first time in a while, June's sharp tongue felt dull. She didn't know what to say as she felt some hair fall into her face as she managed to push the heavy brush through the horse's coat.

"Never been a huge rule follower, though." He followed up, pulling the reins of the tacked horse; he walked backwards out of the barn with his eyes on June– the shape of her body only let his eyes fall down and around her curves.

A soft chuckle came from her lips as she heard the clicking of his tongue, guiding the mare out. "Easy, cowboy." She called back, in a surprising quip, "My ranch, my rules."

"So now you're the boss?" He quipped, "giving me mixed signals, June." Harry paused for a moment, giving her a moment to comeback.

"Let's just say I'm pretty close to the guy in charge." June tilted her head, "But I'd say that flirting with the boss's daughter isn't in your best interest if you want to stick around."

June watched the man quickly bite his lip as if he was stopping himself from another remark.

"We'll see about that one." He called back, his boots crunching on the gravel once again, his eyes staying on her even when leading the large horse out of the barn. "Might be the opposite effect if I'm lucky."

June bit her lip at the thought of him– wondering if he had seen her before. Her legs adjusted just at the thought of his low, raspy voice. She hasn't heard it before, but now all she could hear was his words in the back of her head.

"Hope you find a four-leaf clover out there, gonna need it." June said back, watching as he moved away, a wink flying back at her.

She huffed, looking at her horse before a shake of her head made her feel a bit dizzy.

Maybe it wasn't the head shake that made her feel that way.

***

The following morning, Fury continued to give June quite a time. He was a stubborn horse, but she knew that he trusted her and vice versa. June never felt that she had a problem with him, he had been her horse for over ten years now.

June grew up with horses, riding and watching them was in her blood. She loved riding and watching people become more comfortable as they rode more. It was a pleasure for her to teach young kids to be comfortable and confident while riding, especially when it taught discipline and hard work.

Nothing about riding horses was easy– she continued to learn that the hard way. It took trust, and lots of effort to make sure that the animal underneath you trusted every part of you. The hardest part was putting your life in their hands. But, it was always worth taking that chance.

He kicked a few times, the young girl that she had for the lesson this morning was mostly scared that she was going to fall off. June reassured her that she would hold his lead, but that she needed to be strong.

"When you're scared, he's going to be scared," June tried to reassure her, watching the young girl— her name was Natasha, she was around eleven. "You have to be in control of him, and he's going to respond to you. But we can end the lesson a bit early if you're feeling some nerves— that's okay, too."

Natasha gave June a look; she was unsure, and June could read all over it. However, Natasha pushed through some of her nerves, which led to June eventually letting go of the reins and letting the girl trot some laps around the outside arena space.

"You got it!" She yelled over, staying on the fence, her eyes lighting up at the girl's excitement over her accomplishments of getting the horse to where she wanted him. "Let's loop around one more time, and then bring it back to the center."

June pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The outside training grounds was a large area of the ranch, covered by trees and small patches of grass. She tucked some hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the messy bun she pulled at the base of her neck.

A small noise caught her attention as she started to make her way to the center of the arena to meet Fury and Natasha. June bit on her lip as she squinted in the early morning sun that was casting over the field down to the bison pasture. The gates had opened, watching the man from earlier in the saddle atop the chestnut mare.

His head turned to check that the smaller bison calves had made their way through to the other side of the fence.

"Shut 'em in!" He yelled, pulling at the reins of his horse before the other ranch-hand pulled at the metal gate on the other side.

The field sat opposite of the smaller training field that had been built for June's benefit; she absolutely loved teaching, loved the elements of getting young riders out on the back of a horse to feel the fresh breeze in their hair. It had been so therapeutic to her growing up when everything felt that it could have fallen apart at any moment— this was her world.

Growing up on the ranch had been a saving grace for her. It was the yin to the yang of the city that she had grown to love. She had never had the opportunity to fall in love with another place like she had with Seattle.

It didn't hurt that these were the kinds of views that she had, either.

June hadn't been paying attention as she heard her name being called; her head whipped around as she watched Fury stomp a few times and start to buck and push the young girl. June watched her expression as she held at the fence, watching the young girl struggle with the large stallion.

"Hold on, Natasha!" June yelled, sitting up on the large fence before she cupped her hands over her mouth, "Pull the reins real hard to the left!"

She could see the fear on the girls face as she tried to brace, tried to do what June had told her to. She wasn't strong enough to manage the horse as her foot slid from the saddle and her body flung to the side and off into the dirt of the ring.

June gasped outwardly with a few curses as she ran towards where the girl was flung off. Fury moved away now that she felt safe enough that she could grab her and move out of the ring. She felt horrible not being to stop it before it started, not reading the language of the horse before it was too late.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" June asked, the young girl sitting up on her elbows as she tried to brush herself off. "You're not hurt, are you? Nothing feels broken?"

She shook her head, the helmet bearing her fall as she seemed to just be a bit more traumatized than hurt. The adrenaline must've been moving through her as they stood up, June helping her as she looked around the ring to notice that the horse had made his way out of the ring through the gate she had opened, ready to lead them out.

"Shit!" June yelled out, her head moving around at an attempt to find the horse that had been trotting away. She tucked the hair behind her ear as she turned to look around.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha started, obviously in shock, "I-I didn't– I got scared."

June turned to the girl, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, sweetie. It's fine– as long as you're okay."

June took Natasha out of the ring, climbing up the fence and over to the grassy knoll. Her hands landed on her hips as she searched around for Fury who had gotten loose.

"Fuck," She whispered under her breath.

She didn't expect him to get so agitated. She hasn't had that happen before, which set her alert on high. Fury was the horse that she trained on, and without him, she couldn't hold onto her lesson schedule.

The next one was in twenty minutes, so she needed to figure out a plan on how to catch him.

The first part of the plan was to find the horse that had seemingly run away and out of the gate. Her attention moved back towards the young girl, who had taken off her helmet and seemed to have calmed down just a bit. She rubbed at her elbow that had a bit of a scratch.

"You head back to barn," She told Natasha, "If you see him, holler really loud for me. I'm going to go to the other fields, see if I can catch him."

The young girl agreed, making her way back down to the barns where her mother had been while she took the lesson. She would tell them what had happened, and to make sure they could catch him if he got around.

June started up towards the bison fields– the ranch handlers had been up there just a few moments prior to the incident, and she may have an idea of where the horse had run to. The property was large, almost three hundred acres of land. But, with the number of trees and wooded miles, it would be harder to catch him than it was with the open spaces.

The Forte ranch was surrounded by mountainous regions, which was good for the bison and the elk that were seemingly farmed in the area. June's family kept bison and yak, which was separate to the ranches out in the southwest. Their ranch was green and grassy, surrounded by lakes and streams with glaciers and chilly mornings.

The summer heat didn't always feel like summer, which was what made the mornings so delightful. It was June's favorite parts about the lifestyle of working outside, she felt like there was so much more to see and so much more to take in. It was her own sense of meditation.

"Hey," June called out to the two men sitting on the fences. "Did you see my horse run by? He threw my rider off and fled, and I didn't really see where he went."

The two men seemingly similar looked at one another before shaking their head, practically ignoring her as they continued to haul a few bales of hay into a truck that was backed up to the fence. "Sorry, hon, no."

June placed her hands in her back pockets before she stared at them for a moment. "Okay, well, he's black. Long white stripe down his nose, kinda pink on the end. His name is Fury, but he doesn't usually respond," She blinked a few times, starting to ramble as she thought for a moment, "Probably why he's being a pain in the ass."

She could tell that the men were seemingly uncaring for her request, so she sniffled out of awkwardness before her boots started to move her to the other end of the field.

A good thirty minutes flew by as she walked along the edges of the property, whistling softly for any sight of where the horse could've gone. The sudden sound of clicking made her head turn towards the wooded area; a strike of fear spooking her as she turned. It wasn't that she feared being on her own, but something about being vulnerable ate away at her.

Her heart instantly dropped as she saw two horses, one ridden and the other being held close by the familiar leather reins. The rider in question familiar as she felt her lips quirk up in a smirk at the look on the man's face. She released the breath she had been holding in.

"Think you're supposed to stay on the horse, not let him run away." The deep voice teased. He had been holding the reins of Fury while riding his own.

"He threw my rider," She told him, "I was trying to make sure that she was okay, and he ran off."

"She was quite young," He commented, obviously seeming a bit worried now. He slowed his horse down, the horse standing in front of June as she went to pet down the mare's nose. It crossed her mind that he had noticed her earlier, possibly been staring. "Was she okay?"

June shrugged, nodding. "No broken bones. Maybe a bit of broken spirit."

"You know what they say," He licked over his lip, "Gotta' get back in the saddle." It was then that a smile broke on his face, which halted her breath at the beauty of it.

She laughed at his dry humor, raising her brows. "They do say that, but I'm going to have to do a bit more training with him. He needs to be better for younger riders."

Harry threw the reins over his horse's head, June caught them in her own grip. She looked back up at him again with a small smile. "I appreciate your help– catching him and all that."

"Pretty good portion of my job," He told her, turning the horse a bit so he could face her better.

June had started to lead the horse back in the direction of where the ring and the barn were before Harry stopped her with his words.

"C'mon, hop on," He told her, shifting in his saddle, "We're almost a mile away. You don't want to have to walk."

June's eyes shifted a bit as she pulled at Fury's lead, walking backwards as she thinks about his request for a moment. It catches her off guard, but she shakes her head.

"I think I can walk," She assures him him with a chuckle. He sways a bit in the saddle as he starts after them, obviously going in the same direction.

"Didn't say you couldn't," He remarks back, June hears his tone and looks back instantly, watching his eyes lay on her. Her stomach dropped at the way his gaze felt; his words playing off the sharpness of his jaw, "Also wasn't looking for an answer, just action."

June eyed him for a moment, almost a stand off from her spot on the ground. She inhaled sharply before she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't understand the feeling in her chest that had anchored its way down to a bit of heat. The authoritative speaking of his voice made her swallow.

"But what if I wanted to walk?"

June watches the twitch of his face when she denied him– when she didn't do as he asked. When she didn't succumb to his request; which, she was learning was more of a nice way to demand rather than request.

The man slipped off the saddle, moving away from the mare before he was now standing in front of June with her hair pulled from her face. The freckles on her nose were surrounded by a bit of sun-kiss, which the man took as a reward for being so close. His eyes trained in her for a moment before he noticed the hitch in her breath as they were toe to toe.

June subconsciously took a small step back before she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. Her eyes stayed along the collar of the navy t-shirt that seemed a bit pulled at the collar. While a contrast to the white tank he wore yesterday, this accentuated the bronze of his skin from working out in the summer heat. The warmth of the summer sun has bronzed him, leaving the ink of his arms darker in contrast.

He took a package out of his back pocket, the cigarette between his fingers and dangling from his mouth now as his bright green eyes have a playful lift to them. She watches him teasingly as he lets it dangle from his tongue before placing one on her lip too, waiting for her lip to catch it.

She doesn't tell him that she only smokes when she can't sleep, or when she's stressed out by something her family has said. But she doesn't say anything, just sends him a smirk as they stand toe to toe. His fingers snap the lighter to his, hers next as he takes a draw.

"Anyone looking for you?" His voice was as smooth as leather as he kept his eyes directed to the way her cheeks sunk into breath in the smoke.

"Probably." She responds, drawing her lips between her teeth. She felt the stare down but folded as soon the dimple popped through the right of his cheek. "I have a lesson that should be starting."

He shrugged, "Your horse ran off, nothing you can do."

June went to speak, her head turning towards Fury before Harry looked down the gravel road towards the home– over a mile away like he had mentioned.

Her words got caught in her throat before she can respond, just putting the cigarette up to her lips before she licked her tongue over her bottom lip that had turned into a smile. June bites the inside of her cheek before she looks over Harry who's already moving away from her.

"What're you doing back here?" He asked her, his European accent ringing a bit different, "thought you moved to the city."

Her thoughts ran to the fact that he knew that much about her. She wondered if her dad had mentioned her before, or if he was just paying attention. Either way, her answer to him stayed true.

"I knew I wanted to work my way back here," June told him honestly, "I wanted to work back home. But I need to save some money."

Harry bit his lip as he held the reins of the horse, pulling his over just a bit to start back down the path. It was slow, but it was moving a bit. June knew she was late to her riding session, but she figured it would've been fine anyways– she wasn't going to let her students ride Fury at this point.

"You're young," Harry told her with a chuckle, as if he was trying to explain the world to her, "You've got to explore a bit before moving back home. How do you think I got here?"

June tucked some loose hair behind her ear, "How did you end up here, I mean? It's quite far."

"Five thousand miles, give or take." He tells her, walking alongside her now. They seem to be moving at a slower pace. Either way, Harry knew that he wanted to be next to her.

June took a last draw of her cigarette, throwing it on the gravel. "Way too far for me. I'd miss my family way too much."

Harry flicked the cigarette, the ashes falling a bit before he nodded a few times. "That's because you have a really great family," He looked ahead, chuckling a bit, which June caught before furrowing her brows. "I don't miss my family at all, truthfully. Not much to miss there. So, maybe I just don't get it."

June nodded a few times, understanding the implications and biting her lip at his words. There's silence in the air before she takes in a breath and pressed her lips together then, as if she's trying to find words to help alleviate a pressure that she added in. But, he speaks before she gets a chance to.

"I just think people maybe need to take a few more chances," He says, "Live a little more freely. What's the worst that can happen if you do what you want?"

"Well, most criminals live by that narrative," June tells him, which makes him laugh a little bit at her remarks before she looks at him with the blue eyes that he can't seem to fully grasp could be that color blue.

"Within reason." He adds, and he stops mid step before he watches as she turns to face him at his abrupt stop in the road.

June looks at him, a fluttering feeling in her stomach as his body moves, letting the leather reins go before he stops in front of her again. It's the proximity that sends her thoughts on a tailwind of what could happen next; the adrenaline pushes in her veins as she stares up at him. He's closer now than before, his head has dropped a bit so he can really look at her, but she's acknowledged that, pushing her chin up to make sure she can hear exactly what he's saying.

"Maybe it's the fact that I don't like playing by the rules, though." The smell of the tobacco was filling her nose as they stood so close. His eyes remained deferred from hers, watching the way that the lips and chin were pulling up, almost subconsciously.

"Seems a bit criminal, if you ask me." She teased, tilting her head a bit as she begged him to look at her.

"I mean," He chuckled, letting his fingers move up to her chin as he took it between them to steady her, "It would be criminal to let you beg any longer. Bit pathetic to watch."

"Not begging." She pushed back, pulling her chin away from his grip, which tightened his jaw. She noticed the way that her defiance made him react, which sped her breathing up.

"Tell your body that, sweets," He bit, "I could say anything, and you'll react to it."

He licked over his lips, watching as she tried her best to stay calm, to keep her breath under control. Her lips were pursed, her stance was trying to stand off a bit, but he could see right through her—he saw that she was trying her best to stand on her own but knew that she would fold right then and there.

It was the game that Harry liked, he liked watching how she would react to him when he spoke to her. She was young, practically ten years younger or so, he could assume—she was so impressionable and the fight for dominance was almost sweet. Harry ached as he watched her try to stand him down and his eyes moved to her lips before they drew up to her eyes, watching the ocean waves of blue.

June pulled away, suddenly. She gave him a smirk before she clicked her tongue to have Fury follow her down the road.

"You think you've got me figured out," She called, looking back over her shoulder. "Not going to work with me, cowboy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, watching her walk away. His eyes fell to the way that she walked, seeing the swing of her hips as a tactic to use against him. But, he did what he needed to do. He followed close behind, watching her every move—the silence in their walk back not lost on him.

"Something enticing?" June teased, noticing the way that his eyes had danced over her curves from behind. Harry's eyes lifted just a bit, settling in her eyes before he sent a wink her way.

The silence on the walk back to the barns felt good; it felt understood. It's why they both smiled to themselves, neither one seeing the other.

***

"You think I can really pull him?" June looked at Shelby, "He's older– I don't know, Shel."

"You aren't even seeing the way he looks at you," Shelby said to her friend, taking a swig of her beer. He's not taken his eyes off of her, and somehow June knows that deep inside of her, but she can't bring herself to look back at him. She's a bit timid like that; a sharp tongue when confronted, but a tail between her legs when she thinks of it.

The next night, June had gone out with her friend, Shelby, for a drink. It wasn't lost on her that the town was small. Most everyone knew each other, which made the Friday nights out on the town hard to avoid people you didn't want to see.

You really needed to want to be there, or you would be seen by someone you didn't want to see. June hadn't even thought of it when they went out, that she could possibly see him there. After their encounter yesterday morning, June had kept her distance. Not in a way that she felt was stand-offish, but in a way that felt like she was trying her best to let him come to her.

Dating and flirting weren't new to her, but the idea of playing this game scared her a bit. He wasn't new to this; they weren't trying to figure this out together like she had experienced in college. He was older than her, he had experience with this game.

It scared her a bit, because she didn't know how to handle herself in this type of situation. She wanted to come across as confident, but she knew that he had the opportunity to make her fold.

"You need to be drunker," Shelby stated, pushing her half-empty beer to her, watching as June wrapped her hands around the bottle. It was warm to the touch, not fresh in the slightest. "Let's go to the bar to get more."

June looked at her friend after downing the rest before she fully understood what that meant for her.

Shelby had gotten up, which made June follow her. The strawberry blonde realized without another second to spare that she had walked into the lion's den– eyes were on her as she approached the countertop bar.

One pair of eyes, specifically.

At first, she hadn't recognized him. Without the hat and the dirt-ridden t-shirt, she saw the way that the denim jacket hugged his back. The curls had a bit of bounce to them, and her mouth felt dry as she tried her best to divert her attention away.

But they were almost arm and arm and she had wondered if he would notice.

Of course he had. The scent of cherries and lime only made sense when his attention turned back towards a person who had brushed against him now. He had seen her across the room as soon as she came in with her short skirt and boots. He noticed the way that her waist dipped in with the form-fitting top and the slight curl to her hair.

He sat with his beer in his hand, a rowdy few friends were next to him as he kept his attention on her. June felt heat down her neck as she tried to ignore the staring but started to enjoy the feeling of being seen.

"Two whiskey sours," Shelby leaned across the bar to ask for before June looked at her with confusion, knowing that adding a bit of liquor in the mix would either make it better or worse—she didn't know. Her friend smirked at her, watching the bartender start to assemble their drinks.

June kept to herself for a moment before she heard a stealthy voice next to her. The jolt of her head towards him even surprised her as she licked over her lips at the way that he was looking at her.

"You following me, doll?"

June scoffed; her sharp tongue ready. "You don't think I have better things to do?" She quirked her eyebrow at him; feeling the closeness of them as she stood, and he sat on the barstool under the dim light of the grungy pub.

"No," He shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle before he turned to face her now. She was practically between his legs, his knees on either side of her as she stood closer to him than she thought. "I don't think you do."

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning; he was clean shaven on his cheeks, a bit of scruff on his lip and a twinkle in his eye that was undeniable among the green. A denim jacket covering his shoulders and tattooed arms that were on such display this morning. The hair sat longer on top of his head, just enough to add the definitive addition of chocolate curls.

June could barely look at him without her knees buckling at the bar top. But she took the drink from the bartender with confidence, trying to anchor herself.

"Well, you're wrong." June tells him, taking ahold of the cocktail before taking a sip and trying to play hard to get. A game she knew– a game she played far too often.

Harry watched the way she popped her hip, knowing she did it on purpose.

"I'm never wrong," He bit back, still playful. His eyes met June's, and she didn't dare look away. "So, try again."

June cleared her throat, standing against the bar as she let a breath out. What she hadn't anticipated was the way that his bent knee fell behind her own, pulling her closer between his legs at the busy bar.

June went to speak, a small gasp leaving her lips as she placed her hand on his shoulder as she lost a bit of balance. Her hair fell into his face as she felt herself push away. The smirk on his face only made her blush as she pushed off from him.

"Go on," He urged, "Try again."

She raised her eyebrows, noticing her hand still placed on his shoulder. "What if," She cleared her throat, "It's you who is following me?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, lazily, eyes staying on June as he shook his head softly.

" 'Course I am," He bit his lip, "Who wouldn't?"

His honesty came across, making her feel a bit speechless when she looked at him. She downed a good amount of the whiskey drink quickly, knowing that the quicker it went down, the quicker she'd feel it.

"Looks like what I said about criminal activity seems to be true," She let the straw of the drink rest on her tongue as she looked at him, "You're a bit no good."

"Never denied it," He downed a bit more of his drink before he raised his brow at her, "But you keep coming back, don't you?"

Her tongue rested on the straw, playing with it a little bit as she felt the flirtatious spirit running through her. The cat and the mouse were at their height, now.

"Just gathering all the facts on why I should stay away," She told him, pushing her hair back off of her shoulder. The small top only leaving little to the imagination; Harry tried to hold it together as he swallowed dryly.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked, his hand making its way to her hip as he pulled her a bit closer. June took a step, finding her balance as she stared at him for a moment. He knew the look on her face as he had seen that look a few times before.

A part of him felt the words deeper, which initiated him to reach for his wallet.

"Mind if you let me drive you home?" His voice was thick with a dry, hoarseness that only solidified her position backing into his lap.

June practically melted at his touch, his hand on her hip as she nodded a few times before turning towards him then.

"Don't think that should be a problem." She muttered over the music playing across the bar.

June's eyes found Shelby who was standing at the bar, just a few people over before she winked at them. She moved away, just so that Harry could stand on his feet as she watched the man throw a fifty down on the counter to cover the drinks.

"Drinking fifty dollars' worth and then driving me home?" Her attention turned towards the man as he gave her a lazy smile. "Feels a bit dangerous to get in the car with a drunk stranger."

"Feel like it's my job to pay for you too if I'm getting you to leave your friend to come spend time with me, hm?" Harry walked backwards a bit, reaching for her hand before they reached the door to the bar. "You looked like you were having a good time. But I got something to show you."

Her hand fit into his, her breathing escalating just a bit at the way that he maneuvered her grip, making his stronger instantly as he led them back to the Ford pickup he sport around town.

"I was having a good time," She tells him with a bit of a flirty essence, one that held a bit of attitude as far as he was concerned, "And now you're taking me from it. Wherever you're taking me must be pretty good."

Harry bit on his lip as he sniffles, scrunching his nose at her comment. Her comment only pressing his buttons.

"I'd apologize but I don't know if I'm sorry." He commented, cocking his head.

"You'll only have to apologize if I'm left disappointed–"

When they reached the blue pick-up, his hands instantly grabbed at her hips. They pushed her body into the iron to hold her captive against the side of the truck. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to ground her. She hoped there'd be a small amount of pain as a reminder of the moment.

"You're not gonna question me, are you?" He asked her with the softest voice; the threat in his tone only heightened her senses as she flinched at the way he spoke.

The inside of her thighs fluttered at his growl of a voice. "N-No," June answered, "No, no, never."

His lips brushed against the side of her ear, pulling his body away from her just for a moment before he nodded and found the moment to understand her.

"Good girl," He praised, moving his hands upwards to her waist. The slim part of her torso melted into a perfect hourglass figure. Her hips were wide and held his sight, but his hands loved the feeling of the curve.

June's breath halted at the way that he held her– at first with a physical grip so tight, and then an invisible string of persistence.

The small pub rested just on the outskirts, in the mountains, but just far enough from the ranch. The radio played lightly; the windows were rolled down as the horizon line were just baring a bit of light.

Harry had driven the truck up to one of the horse barns that sat just close to June's guest house, where she had been staying. It was a bit further on the property, but she drove past it almost every day.

"What are we doing here?" She questioned him before he opened the door. He went to the other side to help her out, taking her hand as she jumped down. He had taken her waist in his hands to help her, the touch of him on her was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Have something to show you, I told you." He said, taking her hand in his as he led her back up to the darkened barn. When they arrived at the open door, he flickered on a switch that gave the large space a bit of light.

When they both walked into the small barn, the only lights were overhead, the sound of the crickets chirping filled the silence. June followed Harry's lead before she noticed that they stopped at the stall at the end of the row, down closer to the tack room.

"Here we are," Harry nodded, leaning his arms on the side of the stall gate. When June turned towards the mother horse and baby that were laying on the ground before them. She felt her heart melt at the sight of the small, brown foal that had two white spots on the top of its forehead.

"Oh my god," She gasped, watching as Harry smiled at her surprise. "Aren't they the sweetest thing?"

"He was born this morning," Harry leaned against the gate, watching the two horses on the ground before he turned back to June. The mare simply in awe of the small baby, seemingly tired as she laid next to him. "Needs a name."

"The ranch has a history of naming them after the stars, you know," June tells him, walking over to the little foal. His legs tucked under him, two bright white spots perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

June leans down a bit, hesitant not to scare him. Her hand reaches out to pet the small foal before she runs over hand over the white spots.

"Well, mum is Forager of Stardust," He tells her, keeping against the gate with his arms crossed, "So, we'll keep it in the family."

June starts to giggle as she turns back to Harry, eyes wide, "Ziggy Stardust– hands down, has to be."

"Ziggy Stardust? Alright, then. Sounds like a perfect name to me." Harry questions with a laugh; his smile becoming a bit more than the typical lazy one he likes to sport. June noticed that the crinkles by his eyes were a bit more defined, her nods insinuating her answer.

June turned back to the little foal before watching as his dark brown eyes blinked a few times with the lashes so long and fluttered. Her heart was built from the small creatures around the farm, the life that had been put into this lifestyle.

It reminded her of the sweetness; the parts of her life that continued to only get better the older she got and the more she enjoyed the peacefulness of simplicity.

This was it– this was the simplicity she craved. The rebirth, the gentle touches that reminded her of what life really was all about. She loved watching the ranch run on its own, watching as it grew everyday with small details.

Harry had moved towards a bale of hay that sat in the corner, taking a seat on it as he leaned against the stable wall. He watched June nuzzling the foal before she turned her head towards him again. He gave her a tilted smirk, dimple pressing into his cheek as he watched the nurturing love that nestled out of her.

"Did you grow up on a farm?" She asked, looking back at him before standing up from her spot. She managed to make her way through the tall stable hay before taking a seat on the bale with him. The small spot was snug, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"I did," He nodded a few times, "But it was a lot different. Sheep and goat, mostly. England is also a bit flatter, so it was a lot easier to ride than it is here. But I just figured that this would be a bit of an adventure."

"Think you made a good choice?" June asked, crossing her arms as her legs settled straight out just like his.

Harry raised his brows before he felt that he couldn't stop himself from smiling all the sudden. He wanted to believe that the few beers had something to do with it, hours ago now, but he knew that it wasn't. His eyes were downcast as he started to nod a few times.

"The views here are incredible." He answered, looking up at her, "But the scenery around here is good, too."

June nodded a few times, sniffling.

Harry decided to return the question, looking back at her. "Do you think you made the right choice coming back home? Assuming you liked the city, I guess."

June shrugged her shoulders, knowing that being home was always difficult in some capacity. She loved her family, loved the ease of being able to go places and knowing exactly what to expect. Home seemed to be a place that was easily accessible to her, all the time. Her family would always bring her back—she always knew that she could lean on them without an issue or judgement of feeling pressured to leave.

"I think I made the right choice to come home and to do what feels easy right now," She nodded a few times, "I think coming home from college is scary because you're like," She shrugged, "You feel like you don't have a direction anymore. You're in school practically your whole life—it's all you know. And then to think that you could go somewhere else and live a new life after that. It's just a lot. They're letting me stay in the guesthouse until I can get my bearings."

Harry understood, to some degree. But he was the opposite—if it wasn't new, it wasn't exciting. He wanted to see new things and to not see the same view twice. It meant that you weren't settled, even though the idea of settling wasn't bad. It was just different.

"It's probably good to know that you have a space in the world somewhere," He agreed, settling a bit, "I understand that. I didn't go to college, but I get that you want to feel like you're... you. And you're not having to reintroduce yourself to a new place or new people."

"My family knows exactly who I am," She smiled, "And that's what I want right now."

That was the truth—June wanted to just stay here until she was able to get her own place, maybe down the road. She could have the best of both worlds—one day she'd be able to live on her own, but still be able to stay connected to the place that felt so close to her heart. Teaching riding lessons was her only income, but it helped pay her loans and aided in her weekend ventures with her friends, specifically Shelby.

There wasn't much more she could have wanted now. Happiness seemed to manifest itself in the little things.

But, of course, after the small incident with Fury yesterday morning, she didn't know that she would have been able to trust him. It felt that there was more she could do about it, but she knew that his outbursts had been due to her lack of maintaining his trust and boundaries. He was also just an asshole half the time, and it wasn't something that she could put up with if he continued.

June sighed a bit, thinking of it when she noticed that Harry had taken interest in her sudden displeasure.

"What's wrong?" He asked. She blinked a few times, watching as he seemed to understand that her sigh was of annoyance.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to give anymore lessons until I can get Fury figured out," She shook her head, watching the man as he listened to her quandary. "I have to get him straightened out or I'll have to get another horse ready just to train on, and work with Fury until then."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he let his eyes move to the side, seeing if he would get the reaction he was looking for.

"Bet you're a real good rider, huh?" He teased, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably give good lessons, too."

June pulled her lips into her mouth to keep from the smirk that was approaching, but she rolled her eyes instead. "What a line."

"I'm just asking!" He lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled out a bit, "Was maybe looking into some lessons to help you out."

Their outstretched legs bumped into one another as she pulled at bent knee up to hug into her chest. "I charge a hefty fee."

Harry shrugged, running his hand through his hair. The unruly curls were a bit out of control as he sniffled gently at the way that the hay tickled his nose. "I'll pay up-front."

June shifted her jaw as she licked over her lips. It was a bit dangerous, this game that they were playing. But she had an idea in her brain that she was going to take his advice.

What was the worst that could happen?

She sat up, back straight. Her eyes were downcast as she looked over at him, then. He didn't know how to respond to her stare before he felt the way that she pushed her knee over his lap. Her hands steadily placing on his shoulder as he looked up at her with a smirk that said all of the words that she desperately needed to hear.

"Alright, then," She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, "Let me give you a lesson or two, cowboy." Her hips sank into his pelvis, pushing gently with the added pressure as she took a seat like he had inquired for.

Harry sat up a bit straighter, watching as she straightened up, too. Her skirt flowed over her thighs as he let his hands place on the outside of her hip for helping her balance. A smirk coated her blushing cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous habit.

"I'm already learning so much," He teased her, waiting for her to make another move. She thought she may have a grasp on how to approach him but became nervous as she started to take charge. It was evident to him as she settled into his lap, but he loved the initiative.

They faced one another and she bit her lip at the way that he talked to her. He paid attention to her, let his hands get to know her before he pressed further.

"Dare you to kiss me, though." He said to her, watching as she gave him a look of confusion. She chuckled at him, as she shook her head, but he just smirked, "No one can pass up a dare."

She did exactly as he had dared, pressing down so their lips met. It was like finding water in the desert as she immediately pushed forward, needing more as soon as she got a taste. Her hips rolled at the feeling of his hand making its way to the back of her neck, almost like he was guiding her closer. He was showing her what she needed without words.

The kiss allowed him to press his tongue into her mouth which elicit a whimper from her, his cock straining underneath the jeans that she had been pressing on. He followed, letting his own whimper strain out at the thought of her pressed against him. The skirt not allowing anything between them except the panties he imagined she'd have on.

Deepening the kiss, he pulled her hips forward just enough that he was allowing her hips to ride into him. The coolness of his belt made her shiver, her thighs immediately reacting to the touch.

"You wanna let me take the reins?" He offered, his voice deep and raw as he felt the closeness of them. Her back arched into him, his words giving her a break as she nodded fervently.

"Please?" She asked, practically pleading.

It didn't take any longer before he threw his arm around her, picking her up into his lap as he found the grounding of his feet. Swiftly, he held her up on his waist as she wrapped her legs around his middle, holding on as they pressed their way through the barn.

The small tack closet next to the stable was the closest they got before he threw open the door and led them in.

Harry threw her on the table, letting her sit as he continued to let his lips fall over her again and again. With her help, his hands pulled the denim off of his arms and back, pieces of clothing seem to fall off easily.

He gently allowed his hand to move to the inside of her thigh, pressing down a bit to gauge her reaction.

Her skin was hot, his eyes were down as he guided his hand to the place that she needed him most.

"Please, please," She continued to plead, his ears ringing from the way that she needed. It was so innocent and cute, almost like she hadn't any idea how badly he could wreck her.

"Turn around." He demanded, pulling away just enough to give her room to move. When she didn't, all he saw was a deer in headlights, watching him for a moment like she didn't know what he was asking of her. She swallowed, licking over her lips as she got to her feet.

Her slow movement initiated him to grab her by the hips to turn her around quickly. His hand pressed on her back, pushing her to her elbows on the deck of the tack room.

"When was the last time you were fucked?"

Her throat was tight just at the words that left his mouth; her breathing racing as she anticipated the quickness of this. She had been waiting for it; hoping he'd understand she had been quietly asking for this.

"Been a while," She answered breathlessly, her legs pushed apart as he stood behind her. The flow of the skirt barely covered over her ass before he pushed it up to reveal it all. "N-Not that long."

His eyes grew three sizes larger as he took in the detail of the black lace that lay over her milky skin.

Harry pulled himself down, letting his knees sink to the ground. His eyes were level with the lace as he quickly let his fingers rest on the waistband, pulling them off of her and down her thighs.

She gasped at the feeling, his eyes never leaving.

"Goddamn," He commented, his thumb pressing softly into her. She jerked forward at the initial contact, eyes shutting as she leaned into his touch. "Knew it," He chuckled, "Knew you'd get yourself wet for me."

His thumb moved out slowly, her reaction exactly what he wanted. She pulled back with him, wanting to be filled– he knew exactly where he needed to get her.

"Needy," He berate, his words having a bit of edge. Her eyes flickered open as she gasped at the feeling of his hand slapping the harness of her skin. His thumb removed as he spanked her again, lurching her forward. "So fucking greedy."

Her knees trembled at the feeling, left untouched as he stood behind her. The sound of his belt made her eyes shut as he undid the button on his jeans and smirked at the way she settled underneath him.

"Don't mind that we don't have a condom, right?" He asked, his hand moving to the reddened spot on her skin that she ached took feel again. He smirked, knowing the words he would say would only make her a bit restless. "Can wait if you really need me to."

Her head turned around, her lips a bit raw from where she had been nibbling on it.

"No," She shook her head, "No– no. I'm safe, we're okay." She pleaded, and his smirked lifted at her neediness.

His hands pulled on her hips to arch just a bit for him. June quickly felt the teasing way his tip pressed against her soaked cunt, her hands turned white knuckled as she gripped tightly onto the wood. It was just the feeling alone– she hadn't even seen him, but her anticipation was high.

"Just letting you know," He pressed the tip right into the softness between her, giving her a sensation of euphoria just from how turned on she had been. She let out a moan, her eyes shutting. "We play by my rules. When I say down, you go down. When I say suck, you suck. No backtalking. I'm giving you the best fuck of your life, so you listen to me to get what I know you want. Got it?"

He hadn't even given her a reason to moan, her words caught in her throat as she nodded with. A subtle whimper— the strawberry blonde hair flinging over her shoulder as he moved it away. His lips found their home on the back of her neck, sucking gently at the skin.

"You're going to be such a good girl, though, aren't you? You would never disobey me, huh?" He cooed; his lips continued to ravish at her hair line as she threw her head back in an ache to feel the pleasure he was offering.

June's hips moved back gently, but his hands gripped at her before she could push herself onto him. The slight action gave him a sense of power; his hand smacking onto the curve of her.

The cracking sound familiar to one of a whip— she gasped at the feeling, her eyes closing shut just at the pain that radiated in such a burning sensation.

"Fuck," She whispered, knowing that she was simply dripping at the need. She had never been in a position of such need— she had never needed someone to give her what she needed in such a way that it brought tears to her eyes just to think about it. "I-I'm sorry— I—"

"I'm not." He stated, his breath hot on her neck. A coolness laying underneath—the metal of the cross hitting at her shoulder when he grabbed her hips towards him. When he pushed in, it took a fluid motion before they both moaned out in pleasure. It was a shock of intensity that Harry had truly never felt before.

Sure, he'd been in this position before— but like this? He had been with beautiful women, seen beautiful things. But the enticing scent of wildflowers and sweet vanilla only flourished as his nose brushed the softness of her shoulder.

Harry tried to keep his composure— trying to follow the red behind his eyes, but suddenly feeling the urge to cum at any moment which made him a bit nervous at the quick build-up. It was exceptionally better than he had expected; he had been more turned-on than he had thought.

His forehead rested on her shoulder blade; the small strap of her tank-top the only small detail that was between his forehead and her skin. Harry bit his lip slightly as he wondered when he would be ready to pull out to continue fucking her into an oblivion that would send her to the stars.

But he felt incredibly, incredibly close to the edge just at the initial feeling of her. He grunted in a bit of frustration as he shook his head to try to clear all the thoughts that had gathered there. The curls of his hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. His hands kneaded into the fleshy skin that curved over the small skirt that still rested on her thighs. He had just pushed it up enough to give himself access to what he really needed.

Focus, he thought to himself.

"You are so goddamn tight," He watched as her back arched a bit at his words. Her chin turned to the side, just enough where he could now see her side profile. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in a small, dainty way. "No one's fucked you in a while, have they, darling? You lie to me?"

Harry pulled himself out just a bit, watching where they connected as he felt himself slip back in. The tightness surrounding him made his eyes clamp shut. She felt incredible to him on every level that he couldn't think of anything else that moment.

It was dizzying.

"N-No, not like you— not like this," June muttered. The way that her hands gripped over the table in the tack room was almost pain to her fingertips. "You're so deep, fuck."

The sound of her voice elicits a response of his hips bucking into her, the rasp and grunt of June's voice painted a beautiful picture in his memory.

"You like me deep like that?" Harry licked over his lips, eyes moving down her body as he moved his leg to her thigh. "Pull this up on the table— go on," He urged, "it'll be good for you."

June felt the pat on her thigh, Harry's hands slid the remaining clothes down her legs to leave her completely free on the bottom. He pulled out for a moment to help her lift her leg, balancing herself as she felt suddenly empty without him filling her up.

Watching as she lifted her leg on the table, pushing herself up, Harry dropped to his knees as he took in what he saw. A certain hunger elicits his eyes as he grabbed onto the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. In an instant, she felt the spit on her already dripping cunt as his mouth attached to her almost like it was made for his lips to wrap around.

Her head drew back at the feeling of his mouth on her, the knot in her stomach was undoubtedly loosening as she felt the nudge of his tongue against her clit; the feeling of his nose gracing her. In the last twenty-four years, she had never been blessed with a partner that would have given her the opportunity to feel this way. She had never been with an older man before, either.

Maybe her innocence had been brushed away by the complete raging needs of his wandering hands.

Either way, she didn't know if she could get any better than this. The softness of his tongue with a stiff edge and control, the scruff of his upper lip taunting her as he spread her thighs further apart while his mouth took her from behind.

"Could ruin you in so many ways." Harry hummed, his tongue dripping from her arousal that coated it. "You want me to ruin you, doll?"

Her hair fell into her face as she nodded fervently, her hand pushing the locks away as she tried to catch a glimpse of him but leaned forward instead.

"Yes— I want you to ruin me, please." Her voice was a shy, timid tone but it held all of the power of her needs. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would gladly give her every bit of it.

Harry immediately felt the words go straight to his cock; the feeling of arousal only tempting him further and further. What was it about this girl that gave him such an issue? He hadn't always been so easy to please, but something about the way that she moved her hips, her small movements only made him want to be rougher.

A girl that didn't know what she wanted was always the best— it was the moment when she found exactly what she was looking for, but never knew how to express it that made him cum the hardest. Harry wanted to push every ounce of her until she was begging for it.

June lurched forward just a bit as he stood back up from his position, moving to enter her once again. The slickness of his spit mixed with her arousal created the perfect lubrication that guided his swiftly back into her.

Deeper this time— much deeper. He held onto her thighs, pushing his hips into her at a steadier rate as the soft hums of her whimpers started to go deeper and become significantly more adulterated versions of moans. He felt the way he slipped in and out of her like she had been made to pleasure him.

"Keep quiet," He urged, "You're going to get us into trouble if someone hears us."

"I want them to hear how good you're fucking me," She urged, a whimper coming out as he slowed his motions to tease her further. "Fucking me so good."

He leaned in a bit close to her ear, pulling back her neck as her body contorted to meet his needs. She was in his grasp, only moving in the way that he needed her to. His hand pulled at her throat; the coolness of his undone belt buckle was against her thigh as he pushed in completely to get as close to her as possible.

The moan that escaped her lips was cut short by the hand that cupped over her mouth, which only pushed her further.

"You're going to be quiet or I'm going to pull out, do you understand me?" His voice was deep, low, and cold as she shut her eyes to the sound of it. She felt the push of two of his fingers into her mouth, a surprise at first. "Brats get punished and I'm going to leave your little cunt wanting more if you don't listen."

June hadn't felt this way in years— there had never been a man to satisfy the needs that had been built up in this way. It really hadn't been that long since she hooked up with someone, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. She had never felt this full— this satisfied. It was extraordinarily rough— it was to the point where she hadn't ever known a pleasure like this before.

She couldn't have imagined this.

"You understand?" He says finally; she hadn't recognized that he had truly been waiting for a response before continuing. She had concluded that his pleasure was aided with being in charge. June couldn't understand the way that she became extremely, unbelievably pleasant for him. A few more thrusts pushed her to the brink of extraordinary delight before she dipped her head at the throbbing feeling between her legs.

"I understand— I do, I do, fuck– fuck." She whimpered out, unaware of the way that his thrusts had pushed on her enough that her muscles involuntarily ached as her orgasm became all the sudden wet— a solid gasp releasing her lips as she felt him pull out just at the feeling.

Harry's eyes darkened to a color of coal before he watched her inevitably drip down her own legs, the sight only causing his own mind to fall to a place of filth and absolute insanity. The gushing liquid was only a sight that he never thought he'd see like that– especially from her.

The innocent act was truly just an act.

"Jesus Christ," He commented under his breath, a bit taken by the sight. He choked back for a moment before he looks at the way he left her cunt dripping with need over the dark brown boots that had pushed her legs open. "So, fucking messy, aren't you?"

He watched the way that June's breathing heaved for a moment before he let his hand run down her spine— almost like she had been a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected her body to do anything like that.

Harry paused for a moment, watching to make sure that she was okay. Even in the rough moments, he watched to see if she seemed alright— his head tilting a bit as he hadn't heard anything else from her. A small coax from his hand on the small of back made him pause for a moment.

"Hey," He spoke quietly, "You're okay, doll, hm?"

June felt extremely exhausted already, almost like her body had started to fail her with how her legs trembled in this position. Her head turned back to look at him, a small nod coming from her without any words as she tried to find herself back in the moment.

It was an odd feeling in his chest as he started to feel an ache that went from extremely vile— filthy as he fucked this girl against the tack closet desk, to a sense of vulnerability that he made have started to push her a bit further than she was ready for. She didn't know it until her body was giving her pleasure that she hadn't felt before.

In an attempt to aid in some relief, especially to the legs that shook a bit more than a small foal, he pulled June back to a standing position. Her confusion on her face was obvious before Harry grabbed her by the waist to place her on the end of the desk instead. The skirt that had been pulled around her thighs had been pulled down completely.

"Get you off your legs so I can finish you off without you falling out on me," He told her with a sly smile, "Anyone ever made you feel this good?"

He watched the girl— completely wrecked with a face of pure softness. Her eyes were dazed, her attention stayed on him as he she shook her head. He felt better that she was conscious, even if he had taken practically everything from her.

"I can tell," He tells her softly before he tucks the hair out of her face, "Sorry you've been so deprived," Harry comments, "Would've done it for you sooner, if I would have known. Good thing I know now, hm? Won't let this happen again, angel, promise.

The feeling of their lips presses together as June grabs at her thigh so that Harry can move into the position between her legs once again. His tongue tastes like tobacco, a hint of the gum that he had been chewing.

Harry pressed the tip of his cock back into her to finish what he had started. His muscles ached in his abdomen as he felt himself tense at the feeling through a few more thrusts as he faced her now.

"Feels so, so good," June's words had whimpered out of her, a bit surprising at how quiet she had been and started to become even more so. "I-I'm— it's— fuck. Please, please more."

Harry's hands had made their way to her hips, making sure she had been pulled completely to the front of the desk so that he could feel her deeper. His vision moved down to the place where they connected; a hint of heat on the back of his neck as he thought of the moment more intrinsically.

"C'mon," He coaxed, their noses brush as he lets his forehead rest against hers. His breathing hitched for a moment as he felt her hand move to grab at his bicep. "C'mon, give me one more. You can do it."

His hips snapped further into her; June breathed into his mouth with a hot gasp as she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging at a place that elicit such a firework of intensity that she hadn't ever felt before. It didn't matter how many college nights, bar hookups, serious relationships— none of those had the control that Harry had over her.

This was a feeling that he had crafted to ensure that the other person felt extraordinarily vulnerable and taken. She recognized that she wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last.

She was okay to just be his right now.

"Mm," She bit on her lip at the thought of what had caused her to be sent over the edge prior. She wanted to know what to ask for; she didn't know what she needed, but she was certainly going to try. "W-Want you to...to c-call me a slut," she said with a small voice, just heard between them. Her eyes had turned away from him with a sheepish-shy feeling. "Need it."

Harry paused for a moment before he let his hand move to underneath her chin, propping her up to look into his eyes. He needed her to say it to him— needed to see her embarrassed and shy, wanting him to treat her like a one-night rather than a forever.

"I only call it like it is," He tells her with a grin carved like a devil, "I just have to call you a slut so you drench my cock? Is that it?" He knew he had to push her further, get her to a place in her head where she felt sexy, where she felt loose to the point of unraveling. "Letting me fuck you in a little closet on your daddy's ranch— such a pretty little brat."

"Fuck me," She whined, knowing that her words would travel if she were any louder. "I-I'm gonna–"

"Do it." He coaxed.

Just at the sound of his words, he could feel the way that she unwound herself— simply, he didn't recognize that his words really did have the effect. His lips part as he watched her body fully shake with a convulsion the wetness coated his front with a small spray of her. Drenching his clothes and their boots as they sat with gasping breaths, he stared at the way that her pussy reacted to him, wondering how his words affected her so easily.

She was wrecked.

"That's such a good fucking girl," Harry told her softly, pressing himself back in, nodding fervently as he reassured her. Her cry was let out of the feeling of sensitivity that came after her explosive orgasm.

His hand placed on the back of her neck, pulling her forward a bit as he snapped his hips harder into her so that he could reach a place of pure euphoria. He couldn't begin to replay the actions of her pretended innocence, wondering if he would ever get to see anything like it agan. "Not going to last—fuck."

In an instant, his muscles tensed with an aching feeling that pushed his hips deeper into hers. Harry's lips placed themselves on her neck, kissing at the spots with a gentle softness—he knew what he had been in for in this intense, heated hook-up, but his cock had found a ferocious love for finishing inside of her all of the sudden.

It was all encompassing.

"Shit– shit." He hadn't even thought of the repercussions of not having the condom but needing to be careless for a few moments of time. He fell into her grip, holding onto her softly as he felt their breathing becoming less heavy.

June's legs were wrapped around his hips like an anchor, her head sat heavy on his shoulder as he mustered up the courage to pull away. He didn't really want to pull out completely, knowing it felt too good to let his cock feel the tight confines of her walls.

He slowly pulled his hips back, letting the mess fall out with him.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, watching the display of a horribly sexual sight. One that someone would pay money to see. "I've never felt anything like that."

The way that she breathed against the wall, up on the table. Her eyes were shut as she held herself up and wondered if her choices had been worth it. She blinked a few times, almost like her body was now shutting down after the intensity of their passionate love affair.

Harry waited for her to respond to him, to look at him. He watched as her chest raised and lowered, knowing she was still breathing, but seemed to be missing from behind her eyes.

"Hey," He pulled her back from against the wall, whispering to her sweetly as he felt himself breathing a bit fast, too. "C'mon, doll, we should go clean up. I think we can sneak out the back."

Her movements felt heavy as Harry tried his best to bring her back to her feet. When he felt that she was steady enough, he let go of her to place his jeans and belt back into place, watching her shakily redress herself. The quietness of the small tack closet didn't hinder them, as Harry placed a kiss along her cheek before he let his hands fall on the doorknob.

"I'll go first and then you can follow me," He tells her, watching her nod in agreement. "Front door or back door?" He asks, in reference to the small guest house that June had been staying in. Her breathing had finally fallen into place. The desperation of need still on her eyes, which only excited him to get her back alone.

"Back." She tells him, quietly. Using her words wasn't so bad, but her legs became a bit unsteady, so she held onto the table behind her.

Before he opens the door, Harry gives her a quick once over. His eyes land on her lips before he steps forward to leave a kiss along her pout, letting her sink into him once again. The taste of her instantly feeds him as he groans into the feeling.

It was about time he found the feeling everyone told him he should be looking for. It was a myth for so long, but just in the way that he lips melted into his was enough to make to him blush. Her hands in his hair at the back of his neck, the feeling of her nails along his jaw settled his need for the moment before he pulled back and gave her another peck.

"Don't be too long," He told her, "Don't want to have to wrangle you back to me."

She smirked at his challenge as he opened the door to slip out. Her eyes shut at the way moved, closing the door behind him. A settled feeling in her chest only made her stumble back just a bit, letting herself rest on the table before she took in a solid breath.

Home had seemingly never felt so right.

#be so nice this is my first post on here #but it's dirty so lets go #cowboyrry #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfic #ff #harryff #one direction #harry styles one shot #hsos #harry styles x original character #cowboy smut #harry styles smut #harry smutty fanfic #one-shot #harry styles fluffy #wrangled

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pretty-circa006 · 4 months

Text

Sneaking Out

Stepdad! Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan catches you sneaking out to go to a party and punishes you accordingly

tags age gap (reader is 19, Negan is pushing 40), spanking, unprotected p in v, making out, slight dacryphilia, stepcest, nudity, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, vaguely implied underaged drinking, hair pulling, use of pet names, cumshot

this is my first time posting my writing on here, kinda nervy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

wc: 2.65k

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She sat on her bed, crying. Knees tucked to her chest and head held in her hands as small sniffles and whimpers escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to stay silent. She resented her mom for being so strict and not letting her go out to parties like others her age. She was sure her mom would have let up once she graduated high school, especially since she was legally an adult now, but it only seemed like she doubled down even more. Things got even worse once her mom married her stepdad, Negan. Per her mother's request, he installed security cameras in the front of house and the backyard to ensure she couldn't sneak out. And the few times she tried, she failed, because Negan would be up late, playing video games in the living room or smoking a cigarette in the backyard by the poolside, making it impossible for her to sneak out. She was so miserable, watching everyone have fun over the summer before college while she wasted away in her room with her only entertainment being behind a screen or imbedded in the pages of a book.

It was so unfair. Especially because she knew tonight was gonna be the party of the year. One of the rich girls in her graduating class was throwing a pool party at her mansion, her mansion which housed one of the best pools she'd ever seen. And somehow, she was lucky enough to be invited. This was an opportunity of a lifetime and if it meant being grounded for an eternity, so be it.

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She had one foot out her bedroom window when she heard a knock on her door.

"Hey kid, can I come in?" her stepdad, Negan's, voice called from the other side of the door.

"One sec, I'm not decent!" she fibbed as she stumbled back inside her room. She shut the window as silently it would go before she slipped under the covers of her bed, hiding the fact she had on nothing but a tropical, triangle bikini.

"Okay, you can come in now," she called out. Negan let himself in, glancing around her room suspiciously. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, tattoos peeking out from beneath his white t-shirt, and obvious outline of his dick through his gray sweatpants that hung low on his waist. Despite being hidden beneath her sheets and comforter, she felt vulnerable and naked beneath his skeptical gaze.

"You're not plannin' on sneakin' out, are ya?" he asked, tongue seductively swiping across his bottom lip. She nervously swallowed, heat blossoming across her cheeks.

"N-no, why?" came her shaky reply.

"You are a shit liar, kid," he laughed, a handsome smirk on his face.

"Why would I sneak out? There's nothing for me to out there anyway," she doubled down, not feeding into his bait. He stalked closer to her bed before sitting down at the foot of it, hazel eyes boring into her soul.

"So you're not going to that pool party happening right now?" The tone of his voice was sarcastic, hinting that he didn't believe a word coming from her mouth.

"Pool party? What pool party?" She punctuated her question with a fake yawn to try and convince Negan that she really was tired and ready to go to bed for the night.

"If you say so, kid. Just know that if I catch your lying ass sneaking out tonight, you'll be in for a world of hell when I punish you." Her thighs involuntarily squeezed together at his words and the action didn't go unnoticed by Negan. She nodded her head while silently praying he'd hurry up and leave so she can sneak out.

His eyes narrowed at her as he stood up. "Night, kiddo," he said, patting her knee through the comforter for good measure.

"Night, Negan!"

She continued laying in her bed, petrified, for another ten minutes until she heard the door to her mom's bedroom shut. Negan's words did manage to strike some fear into her, but not enough to deter her from her original plan. She was sure he was in bed now and falling asleep for the night. After silently sliding out of her bed, she tucked a few decorative pillows in her previous place in hope they'd fool Negan or her mom if they peek in to check on her.

Her hands were shaky when she re-opened her bedroom window. Nerves were finally getting to her. She could hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears as she began having second thoughts about doing this. Negan was nowhere near as strict as her mom, so his punishment couldn't actually that bad. Not that she'd actually have to worry about his punishment, because she wasn't gonna get caught.

She crept out of her window and stepped onto the roof. She closed her window, only leaving it slightly ajar so she could get back inside later. Careful not to slip on the roof's slippery shingles, she tiptoed to the edge and looked over at the space from here to the grassy ground. Too late to go back now. She sat on the ledge and turned herself around so she could hang from the ledge before dropping into the soft grass.

She looked back at the house, elated she was finally out and what fun was about to come

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The dark morning sky was slowly beginning to turn into a lighter blue as she clumsily climbed the trellis back onto the second story's roof. Her slightly intoxicated brain made it so her movements weren't as agile and quiet like before. She lifted her window open and unceremoniously fell inside, smacking the carpeted flooring with her face.

The first thing she noticed was the potent smell of tobacco followed by his signature whistling.

"Aw, fuck," she groaned to herself. She heard the springs of her mattress release as Negan got up and soon his socked feet came into her view. He reached out a hand and helped her up after she gratefully accepted it.

He looked pissed. His thick eyebrows settled into a frown and his hazel-green eyes were devoid of any kindness. She nervously crossed her arms over her body, feeling naked under his gaze.

"How was the pool party?" he asked.

"I wasn't a-at a pool party!" she lied.

His look only darkened, making her weak in the knees. From fear or arousal, she couldn't tell.

"What kinda goddamn fuckin' idiot do you take me for? You are literally dripping wet and wearin' a damn bikini!" he pointed out the obvious.

"I was swimming in our own pool in the backyard!" she lied with such little conviction that she couldn't even fool herself

He stepped closer to her and if she wasn't already so close to the wall she'd have stepped back. She averted her gaze and chose to look at the chipped, bubblegum pink nail polish that adorned her toes. Negan wasn't having any of it, though, and forced her to look up at him by grabbing a fistful of her wet hair and tilting her head up. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"What did I tell you would happen if I caught you sneaking out?" he asked between clenched teeth.

"That...that you're gonna p-punish me..." The tears were streaming down her face now as she sniveled pathetically.

"Attagirl," he darkly praised, a sinister smirk spreading across his face. The slight praise caused her stomach to do backflips and her core to clench over nothing. Her face felt hot and her breathing shallowed as her only thoughts were what Negan would do next.

His grip on her hair stayed firm as he walked her over to her bed. He released his hold before taking a seat onto the plush mattress. She stood before him, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot and nibbling the skin around her thumbnail, awaiting what was to come. His large, warm hands gripped her hips, pulling her to stand between his legs. She glanced down at him as he looked up at her, but her eyes drifted past his face and down to the bulge growing in his sweatpants. She was embarrassed to admit it, but her mouth watered at the sight.

"Now, I want you to know that this shit could have been avoided had your stubborn ass just listened to me," he stated, his grip on her hips growing firmer. She nodded her head, not knowing what to say and not wanting to anger her stepdad even further.

He pulled the ties on either side of her bikini bottoms and let the damp garment fall to the floor between her feet. She nervously bit her bottom lip and looked down at him, but he was too busy eyeing her cunt and soft thighs, which glimmered with the slick of her arousal. He looked up at her as he licked his bottom lip. He patted his thighs.

"Bend over my fuckin' knee, doll," he ordered. She warily obeyed, despite the humiliation of having him see her bare, wet pussy. His roughish hands caressed the soft flesh of her ass, admiring the mounds. Without warning, his hand came down harshly on her right cheek, earning a yelp from her.

"Keep it down," he hissed before landing an even harsher slap to her other cheek. She only whimpered this time, pursing her lips to fight the noises that yearned to escape. He continued his assailment on her ass, leaving it stinging with numbness. Her whimpers turned into a mixture of sobs and wanton moans which only tightened his pants. By the looks of it, he wasn't the only one getting off to this punishment. Her cunt sparkled with her arousal, arousal which was leaking down her thighs.

"Negan, please!" she begged. Her thighs were clenched together as she tried to rub her aching clit on his thigh.

"What is it that you want, baby?" he questioned. His big hands kneaded at her squishy flesh. He knew damn well what she wanted, but he wanted to hear her beg. Her weeping pussy was practically begging to be stuffed with his big cock.

"Need you! Need to feel you inside me," she begged between sniffles and sobs. She stood up from being bent over his lap and sat on it, straddling him instead. His arms snaked around her waist and hers around his neck before she leaned down almost close enough to connect her lips to his.

"Please, Negan?" she whispered against his lips. His eyes flitted from hers down to her lips which were so close to his. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gently pressed her soft lips to his, his facial hair pricking at her skin. Negan could name a plethora of reasons why this would be wrong, but the one reason it felt right overpowered them all, so he grabbed the back of her head and crashed his lips against hers. The desperate moan she let out gave Negan the perfect opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like some fruity cocktail that was really just a bunch of things mixed together by some inexperienced kid. He'd have to take her out for a real drink one day. His tongue traversed her mouth, consuming her. She desperately ground her bare pussy on his clothed bulge, eliciting pleasured groans from him. His hands felt up her body before untying her bikini top from the back and the neck, leaving her completely bare on his lap.

"Please, Negan, I need to feel you," she begged after pulling away from the kiss. His eyes were glued to her tits, watching them as her chest rose and fell while she caught her breath. He cupped them in his hands before giving them a squeeze. Her head fell back as she let out a wanton moan. The rough skin of his fingertips gave her hardened nipples some much needed friction as he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger.

"You got some nice fuckin' tits, babydoll," he complimented, only making her wetter.

Her hands slid down his chest, then torso, then stopped at the waistband of his pants.

"Neeegaaan," she impatiently whined.

"Well, baby, if you want it, go ahead and fuckin' take it." His dimpled smile almost brought her to her release right then and there. He lifted his hips so she could pull his cock free. His length audibly smacked his abdomen, the tip an angry, flaming red and leaking with precum. If her core wasn't aching so badly, she'd have gladly taken him down her throat. She took him in her hand. He was so big that her fingers didn't even touch. She stroked him a few times as he sucked bruising marks onto her neck and collarbones. He held onto her hips as she lined him up with her sopping center, stroking him along her slick folds before sinking all the way down on him. The stretch was there, but not painful because she was so wet and ready for him.

"Negan, you feel so good!" she moaned once he bottomed out inside of her. Her nails dug little crescent moons into his skin through his shirt as she began bouncing on his cock. He admired her tits bouncing as she rode him before pulling her closer and taking one in his mouth, kneading the other with his free hand.

The squelching sounds of her wet pussy and the smell off sex permeating her bedroom only made things more erotic. Negan was hitting every spot perfectly, but he wanted more. He freed her tit from his mouth before flipping their position. Her back was now laying against the bed and Negan stood over her, his cock still inside. Now that he had more control, his thrusts came harder and faster, his tip almost kissing her cervix.

"Goddammit, doll, you were made for my cock!" he praised. More profanities and moans fell from his mouth as her wet, spongy walls squeezed his cock. Her moans were growing louder and louder, making Negan worry that they might wake up her mom...who was his wife.

"I know that my dick is the best damn dick you've had and ever will have in your entire goddamn life, but you need to keep it down," he lectured. She rolled her eyes but pursed her lips in a feeble attempt to keep quiet.

They were both close to reaching their peaks and it was obvious by the way his thrusts grew rushed and sloppy and how her cunt was squeezing him.

"I'm gonna-" her sentence was cut off by a scream of ecstasy which caused Negan to cover her loud mouth with his palm. Her cunt squeezed him as her back arched off the bed and eyes rolled to the back of her head while she came. If he was thinking straight, he'd have left her high and dry as punishment, but his own orgasm was close and he'd be damned if he didn't cum. She removed his hand from covering her mouth and took two of his long, thick fingers into her mouth.

"Ho-ly fuckin' shit!" He swore, marveling at the sight. She hollowed her cheeks as she sucked on the digits.

"That's. My. Girl!" he praised with each thrust.He pulled out of her just as his orgasm came over him and shot his load onto her tits and stomach. He flopped onto the bed beside her and she rolled into his strong arms.

"Y'know I can't stay, gotta get back to your mom before she wakes up."

"Just ten more minutes?" she begged, looking up at Negan with those doe eyes of hers.

He sighed and lightheartedly rolled his eyes.

"Anything for my babydoll."

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback on how i can improve, i'd love to hear it!

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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months

Text

smother it ː s. winchester

summary: sam has to patch you up, but the problem lies within the fact the two of you despise each another

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader [can be read as gn/afab reader]

word count: 4.7K

warnings: 18+, no use of 'y/n', slight enemies to lovers, mentions of wounds and stitches, bickering, curse words, some smut [fem receiving oral], and fluff

a/n: first kinda smut for sam so PLEASE MINORS DNI!! for my sake and your own! I will be checking blogs who interact with this one-shot for minors and I will be blocking you if you do. i have SFW works for sam, so please go and check those ones out instead!

without further ado, please enjoy the oneshot and reblog and comment your thots 😏

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

From the moment you met Sam Winchester, he managed to get under your skin like no other.

You had met the Winchesters while hunting a siren, which, at the time, you didn't know what you were hunting. You were stumped with the evidence that you had found. But you had bumped into Dean while in the morgue, both posing as FBI agents and realizing that the other was a hunter soon after the coroner left the room. You had some idea who this hunter was, but when he finally dropped the FBI shtick and introduced himself as Dean Winchester, it confirmed your suspicions that you had when you asked Bobby for some help on this hunt and said he sent "one of the best" your way.

You were surprised at how well you got along with Dean, having heard some choice words that Bobby has described the Winchesters as a particular kind of character (his words, not yours). But you were not prepared to be met with hostility from the "infamous" Sam Winchester when Dean brought you back to their motel room.

Sam visibly bristled when you entered the room, which you chalked up as the fact that you were a stranger intruding in on a private space, which you wholly understood; you would have reacted in the same way. But when Dean clarified that you were the hunter they were sent to help with, Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

You were a bit confused by the cold shoulder that Sam was giving you, and apparently so was Dean, having seen him give his brother a weird look after he interrupted you for the third time when trying to figure out what you guys were hunting. You bit your tongue each time he did, but the third time was enough, and you asked him what the hell his problem was with you. You genuinely wanted to know since you had been nothing but kind to him.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's obviously a siren, but you wouldn't know that given that you're new at this." He said, completely disregarding your question, and he continued on with explaining his theory on what the monster the three of you were hunting was.

You stared at Sam, nostrils flared, and anger filled your veins at the fact he thought you were new at hunting. You were brought up to hunt from a very young age and had been for a very long time, so the fact that he thought you were an inexperienced hunter boiled your blood. You had heard about the Winchesters and their reputation growing up, knowing their prowess for hunting was high, but you never expected someone like Sam, who looked like a gentle giant at first glance, to be such a dick.

"Thank you for that boy genius. Do you ever actually get to kill the thing, or is your nose too busy to be stuck in a book and that's why you let your brother do the heavy lifting?" You retorted, looking at him with a cocked brow.

You saw Sam's jaw clench and eyes flash with irritation at your words. He went to respond, but Dean quickly intervened and tried to de-escalate the situation at hand. He practically sent you and Sam to timeout, having told you to go back to your room to cool off while he talked to Sam alone.

You pressed your lips together and tried not to stomp out of the room like a toddler having a tantrum. You left the room, slamming their door shut and went back to your room. You were muttering angrily to yourself as you walked back to your room. You can't believe that Sam had insulted your ability to hunt. He hadn't even seen you hunt before. You'd never expected Sam to be this much of an ass to you (you honestly thought it would be Dean to act this way from what you heard from Bobby).

Dean eventually came for you in your room and told you to come back. Once you were back in their room, Dean sat you down across Sam and lectured the two of you. He made you promise that you or Sam wouldn't take jabs at one another or try to provoke the other into an argument. So, like two disgruntled children, you both promised Dean that you guys wouldn't do any of that until after the hunt was over and you had killed the siren.

But once you killed that siren, you immediately left, not wanting to stay in the presence of Sam Winchester any longer than you had to. But as fate would have it, you guys would always seem to cross paths with you on hunts. Dean would always find you and invite you to hunt with them, and before you could even think about saying no, he'd pull a puppy dog look at you, and pout. Which, without fail, you would always say yes to.

Hunting with Sam was torture. He'd always nitpick the way you went about research and would take any chance to correct you about the lore behind particular creatures that you were hunting. Sam loved being insufferable toward you, and you could tell it brought him so much joy when you would have to storm away from him; otherwise, you would have broken his nose with a swift punch to his face.

You knew you hated Sam Winchester, and you knew for a fact that he had the same feelings toward you. You also despised the fact that you found him attractive. Sam was tall, almost too tall, had shaggy brown hair that he pulled off effortlessly, hazel eyes that seemed to be an endless pool of blues, greens, browns, and golds, and smug smirks he would send you when he was right about some obscure lore were deadly combinations for you.

You wished that you weren't drawn to him, but you saw the kind smiles and the soft eyes that never were directed at you, but he had when he talked to the victims on hunts. You even saw the dimples that he had when he'd smile at the stupid banter that he and Dean would have when the three of you were at a bar celebrating a job well done and Sam had loosened up with a couple of drinks in him.

"Stop squirming," Sam ordered you with a grumble, a frown on his face as he wiped the blood away from the gash on your back. His words brought you back to the present.

You glared at him through the mirror of the cramped motel bathroom the two of you were in. He took most of the space with his broad frame, standing behind you as your hands gripped the edge of the porcelain countertop, cleaning the wound you had gotten when the ghoul you were hunting threw you through a glass table and glass ended up cutting up your back. You would have cleaned it yourself, but it was in a spot where you needed to be a contortionist if you wanted to clean it yourself.

You would have asked Dean for help, but as soon as he cleaned up from the hunt, he left the motel to go to the nearest bar while you waited for Sam to be done with the shower. You wished you didn't have to share the room with the boys on this hunt, but when you arrived at the motel, there were no vacancies, so you had to bunk with the Winchesters.

You winced as Sam suddenly stuck the needle into your skin. The glass that sliced into your back was deep enough to where it needed stitches. You swore you saw something flicker in his eyes as his gaze looked up from your back, and you hissed slightly at the feeling before he focused on the task at hand. You were regretting ever saying yes to helping Dean.

"You need to be less reckless, I don't want to be the one patching you constantly." Sam mumbled as he threaded the needle through your skin.

You huffed angrily. "Yeah sure, next time I'll ask the ghoul to gently throw me through a glass table." You snapped at him.

You hissed through your teeth as you felt Sam tug on a stitch, making it tighter than it needed to be and sending a sting of pain through your back. You glared at him harder through the mirror as you saw the corner of his lip twitch significantly.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" He asked, his tone feigning innocence as he finished stitching up your wound. Sam tied off the stitch and sniped the thread, quickly grabbing some gauze and medical tape to cover your freshly sewn skin together. Once he was done, you grabbed the hem of the tank top you were wearing and pulled it down. Then, you reached for the first aid kit lying on top of the toilet seat.

"I can do the rest. You're released from your duties now." You tell Sam sarcastically as you eye the cut that was near your hairline.

As you were looking through the first aid kit to grab some ointment before you cleaned the cut, you felt Sam move out of the bathroom, the room feeling less suffocating as he did, but you didn't notice his eyes on you the entire time until he leaned against the doorway. Unfortunately for you, he stayed there with his gaze stuck on you.

You glanced to see his broad figure take up the entire doorway and scowled. "You can leave now, join your brother at the bar, I don't need your help anymore."

Sam didn't move an inch at your words. "Why do you hate me?" He asked instead of listening to you.

Your lips thinned into a straight line as you closed the first aid kid with more force than you intended, and a sharp laugh left your lips.

"Really? You're asking me this now? If anyone should be asking this question, it should be me."

You saw Sam shrugging out the corner of your eye. "Just curious, it's clear that you don't like me."

"That's rich coming from the man who has been nothing but hostile towards me the moment I set foot in the same room as him." You quickly tried to clean the cut on your forehead. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as it looked, and you swiftly cleaned it and placed a butterfly bandage on it.

"It's not like you were the most friendly either."

You turned to face Sam, a fiery look in your eyes. "Only because I tried to be nice to you, but you were nothing but a dick to me." You wanted nothing more but to slap Sam's stupidly handsome face.

Sam started to smirk, clearly enjoying getting you riled up. "Is that so?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Sam's question felt demeaning.

"Oh for Christ's sake. I'm not doing this with you right now." You all but growled through gritted teeth. You pushed past Sam, hitting his shoulder hard as you made your way out of the bathroom and gathered your things. You've had it with Sam, and if he was going to play this game with you, you would just leave and never interact with the Winchesters again.

You tried putting on your jacket but cringed in pain when you felt your stitches pull, and a warm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"You're gonna rip the stitches if you keep that up," Sam said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, which made you frown. You shrugged off his hand and turned around to see his eyebrows pinched. You hated that all you wanted to do was smooth out the wrinkles that formed in the middle.

You shook your head to get rid of that thought. "Oh, fuck off, Sam. Don't act like you care. If it wasn't for Dean being there, you would have probably left me there to bleed out."

Sam flinched at your harsh words, his face hardening before softening again as his hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out but fought against it.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I treated you." He licked his bottom lip. "I-you. I do care about you."

You looked at him with disbelief. "Really? Wow, could've fooled me." You sent him a sarcastic smile before turning back around, intending to leave the room. You couldn't care less about your stuff at the moment.

"Hey!" Sam called out for you and grabbed your arm to stop you from leaving. His grip on your arm was firm but not painful. You stopped in your tracks before closing your eyes and your tense shoulders relaxing at his touch.

"Sam." You intended for your voice to come out firm, but instead, it came out hoarse, almost tired.

Sam gently pulled you back towards him, and you let him turn you around so he could see him. Your eyes were still closed as you faced him, his grip on your arm slowly moving up and resting on your shoulder, his other hand moving to rest on your other shoulder.

You eventually opened your eyes to find Sam studying your face. His eyes were like a green haze. The warm lighting of the room made the flecks of brown and gold scattered throughout his eyes more prominent, threatening to take over the green.

Sam said your name softly as his thumbs started to swipe against your bare skin. "I do care about you, more than you know."

You scoffed. "Well, you have a shit way of showing it." His flawed logic was making the anger you felt earlier begin to rise again.

"I know, I know," Sam took a deep breath before speaking again. "When I saw you come into the room, you made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. So I thought if I was cold towards you, they would go away or at least hide what I actually felt toward you."

Irritation swelled in your chest.

"So, you decided to take the playground approach? Newsflash, Sam, you're an adult, and being a dick to someone won't make them like you. If you really wanted to make someone like you, you would be yourself or have the decency to be nice to them." You glared up at Sam as you ranted.

Sam smiled. That man started to smile, and it did nothing to quell the anger bubbling underneath your skin.

"What the hell are you smiling at Winchester?"

He shook his head, clearly trying to shove down his amusement. But his dimples threatened to appear as he cleared his throat and arranged his face into a more neutral expression before speaking.

"Look, I am sorry for how I treated you. I know we aren't kids, and I shouldn't have acted like a child toward you, but sometimes you make me feel like a stupid kid with a crush." Sam's hands squeezed your shoulders before they moved down your hands and held them.

You pursed your lips to bite back a smile that wanted to appear on your face. You felt your stomach flutter at Sam's admission as you looked down at your connected hands, his hands engulfing yours as his thumbs rubbed circles into the tops of them.

"You know, for someone so intelligent, you can be really dumb." You said as you inched closer to Sam.

Sam let out a chuckle at your words, a red hue on his cheeks growing as he smiled sheepishly down at you. You couldn't help but let a smile appear on your face at the sound of his amusement.

"Yeah, I know. I just really like you, and you make me feel stupid sometimes." Sam sighed as he stared down at you.

"Well, you're in luck because I seem to like your dumb ass too." You let go of one of his hands to cup his cheek.

Sam leaned into your touch. "Really?" His eyes lit up like he was a kid in a candy shop.

You rolled your eyes at the giant in front of you and pinched his cheek playfully. "No," You deadpan. "Although, your brother on the other hand…" You grinned sarcastically at him.

Sam took his turn to roll his eyes at you, and before you could tell him you were kidding, he let go of your hand, grabbed the nape of your neck, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

You almost yelped into his mouth from how fast Sam moved. His other hand moved to your waist as your hand that wasn't cupping his cheek went to rest on his shoulder. Sam moved the two backward until he sat down on the edge of the bed, lifted you, and placed you on his lap.

Desire filled your veins as Sam's lips moved against yours fervently. A small moan fell from your lips as Sam nipped at your bottom lip and took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, groaning lowly when your tongue slid against his.

It was as if you were both finally on the same wavelength because, in moments, his tongue was already exploring the inside of your mouth. His hands slide down to your sides, where he caresses your body with both his hands. You both seemed to be completely lost in this kiss, as you both forgot about anything else around you, like time and space.

His lips eventually left yours, feeling out of breath as he dotted kisses across your jaw and down your neck. His hands moved to the hem of your tanktop and slid it up, slowly exposing more and more of your skin until it was entirely off, leaving you in your bra in front of him. Sam managed to rip his lips from your neck to drink in your body, his hazel eyes dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed out as his hands moved up your back, almost covering the entire length of it from how big his hands were. Sam reaches for the clasp of your bra but stops when he brushes over the bandage on your back. Sam pulled back slightly, looking at you with a slight frown on his face.

You wanted to do nothing but kiss it away, so you did. Your lips touched Sam's softly as your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He let you take it off of him, only breaking from the kiss to get it over his head.

You drank in Sam's bare torso. Taking in every inch of him. His tattoo stands out against his tanned skin, his muscles expanding and contracting as he breathes heavily. Sam was like a marble statue that came to life.

The motel room was silent, save for your and Sam's heavy breathing as you stared at each other. Sam's hand was still resting on the part of your back that was bandaged.

"You sure you're up for this right now?" Sam asked with concern, lacing his tone.

You smiled at him and nodded. "I might implode if you stop right now."

Sam laughed at your words, his dimples appearing as he smiled widely at you. "Oh, wow. Implode huh?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise as his smile turned into a flirty smirk.

You nodded, a serious expression on your face as you rested your forehead on his. "Yep, we wouldn't want that happening now would we?" A sultry smile on your face as you teased his lips with little pecks.

Sam's hands moved back to your waist and squeezed. "No we wouldn't." He answered before he caught your lips between his. Your hands moved from his bare shoulders to the nape of his neck, and you started to tug at the longer strands of hair, making him groan into the kiss.

Sam's hands moved up your back and unclasped your bra, almost tearing the straps off as he tugged them from your arms and threw the bra somewhere in the room. His lips left yours to trail down your neck and chest, and you leaned back, exposing your chest to him more. And you let out a soft moan, feeling him nip at your smooth skin and taking one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking at it.

The hands that were wound in his head began to tug at his hair harder as he moved from one breast to the other. He let out a low growl against you, sending vibrations down your spine and into the heat that was pooling in your core.

One of Sam's hands moved down your body and to the front of your pants, and the button on your jeans popped open with a flick of his fingers. His hand slowly made its way past your underwear, and he pulled away from your chest with a groan when he felt how wet you were.

"This all for me?" Sam asked with a salacious grin on his face as two of his fingers swiped through your slit, coating his fingers and moving up to rub at your clit. You whimpered as you nodded, your hips rutting against his hand, and you could feel yourself getting wetter as he rubbed at your clit faster.

Sam abruptly stopped, pulled his hand away, and tugged at your pants urgently. You managed to get out of your pants and underwear with the help of his insistent hands, and once they were off, he grabbed your hips and fell backward on the bed, pulling you up until your naked core was level with his face.

"Sam!" You yelped, surprised at his strength and sudden manhandling.

"I don't want to hurt your back, but I really need to taste you," Sam said as he looked at your cunt hungrily.

"You sure?" You looked down at him hesitantly.

Sam's eyes softened as he looked up at you, his thumbs drawing circles on your thighs. "We can stop right here if you want."

You bit down on your bottom lip before shaking your head. "Just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," He reassured you before smirking. "Besides, I wouldn't mind going out like this. 'S better than the alternative."

You laughed at Sam's words, putting you at ease, and you nodded at him to go ahead.

"I'll need words pretty girl." Sam squeezed your thighs.

You felt a heat bloom on your face and in your core at his words as you brushed back Sam's bangs from his forehead.

"Sam, please I need you." You all but whined.

"You have me." Sam said before pulling you on top of his face, burying his head between your thighs as his tongue began to lick and suck at your clit.

Moans began to escape your lips as your hips began to rut into his face, his tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose nudged against your sensitive nub. You could feel the knot in your lower belly get tighter and tighter as Sam moved back to suck at your clit, and two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping with little resistance. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. Sam's fingers quickly found your g-spot and began to rub at it, making you arch your back almost painfully at the intense pleasure Sam was giving you.

"Fuck! Sam I-I'm close."

At your words, Sam seemed to grow even hungrier for you to come. You tugged at his hair hard and rutted against his face faster before he sucked at your clit hard and pressed against your g-spot, making you fall over the edge as stars danced behind your eyes and you clenched around his fingers.

You could feel the vibration of Sam's low groan in your cunt as he tasted you, lapping at you until you were too sensitive. You climbed off of him with shakey legs and collapsed beside him; a layer of sweat coated the entirety of your naked body as you tried to catch your breath. Sam pressed soft kisses to your shoulder and collarbone as he waited for you to calm down.

Once you had calmed down, Sam caught your lips in a soft kiss.

"You okay?" He mumbled against your lips.

"More than." You smiled against his lips before you kissed him deeply. Sam slowly moved to hover over you. One of your hands moved from the bed to the waistband of the pants that Sam was wearing and inched downward until it cupped the bulge that was very prominent in his sweatpants.

Sam's groan was muffled by your lips, but before you could even think about taking off Sam's belt, the motel room door swung open and hit the wall with a slam. You and Sam quickly separated, and bless Sam, he pulled the covers over you to shield Dean's eyes from your naked form as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"Woah!" You heard Dean exclaim, and you looked over to see him walking back outside and closing the door.

"Finally! You could have cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife. But make sure to put a sock on the doorknob next time," Dean said through the closed door of the motel. You and Sam looked at each other, both of you flustered by the fact that Dean walked in on you guys.

"I'll be in the Impala tonight. Sammy, make sure you use protection!" He called through the door and promptly walked away from the door.

You stared at Sam before breaking out into a fit of laughter. Sam started to chuckle as he heard you laughing. A warmth bloomed in his chest when he saw your body shake. You laughed a bit too hard, and you felt a sharp pain come from your back. Sam saw you winced and walked over to you with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His eyes flicked up and down your body quickly.

You shook your head, "No, just my back, I might have pulled a stitch or something."

"Let me check." Sam gestured for you to turn around.

You took off the covers and rolled onto your stomach to let Sam check your stitches. You felt him pull back the bandage before replacing it again.

"You didn't tear anything, but it's probably not a good idea to continue with what we were doing before Dean barged in."

You huffed a laugh as you turned back to face Sam. "You mean before you were about to fuck me?"

Sam flushed red at your words but threw his head back to laugh. The sound made you grin before you joined in; his giggles were infectious.

"Yeah, before that." He nodded and responded when he calmed down, the occasional chuckle escaping his lips.

You sighed dramatically. "If you insist." You knew it wasn't a good idea to have sex with him when your back was out of commission, but it didn't mean that you wanted to jump his bones; you really did.

Sam smiled before patting your thigh and getting up from the bed to grab the shirt he was wearing earlier that night and toss it to you. You caught it, and you couldn't help but smile as you put it on his shirt. You were engulfed by Sam's smell. The notes of citrus, mint, mahogany, and his musk made you melt inside.

The two of you got underneath the covers of the bed, and Sam was quick to tuck you into his side. You threw your leg over his hips as you used his bicep as a pillow. You let out a contented sigh as you settled in Sam's embrace.

Sam looked over at you, used his free hand to tilt your chin towards him, and kissed you gently. "Goodnight." He murmured against your lips.

"Night Sammy." You whispered before giving him one last lingering kiss and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. The events of the day hit you, and with the warmth of Sam's bare chest, the exhaustion consumed you. The last thing you could remember before you entered your dreamscape was Sam kissing your forehead softly before pulling you closer to him.

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hsunrry · 28 days

Text

summer house // one shot harry styles

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: you agreed to be “civil” with your enemy.

words: ~2,7k

tropes: enemies (just at the beginning)

warnings: smut18+, oral (m receiving), protected sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk (degradation, praise), slight size kink, mention of using sex toy

a/n: hi! so this is my first time writing something like this not in my native language, so i hope it’s not too bad! (PART 2)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you and your two friends; Jenna and Matthew just arrived to Matthews’s summer house. you unpacked your stuff in your room and decided to go eat something downstairs. your eyes widened when you saw him. “what are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same question.” he narrowed his brows. he looked at Jenna and Matthew that were sitting on the couch. “care to explain what is she doing here?”

“well, guys, you see…” Jenna started talking but you interrupted her.

“hope you guys at least know what you’re signed up for, inviting us both under one roof.” you said, clearly pissed, because honestly what the fuck. you looked at Harry and he had this stupid grin on his face. you rolled your eyes and went upstairs to your room. you could already feel him staring at your ass.

“i’m starting to think it wasn’t good idea at all.” Matthew mumbled. Harry was obviously pissed as well but he decided to act like an adult. he went upstairs where your room is. he knocked few times.

“yeah?” you responded, grabbing package of cigarettes and lighter from your bag.

“can i come in?” you heard him and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“no.” you said shortly, going in the direction of the balcony.

“oh come on, i just want to talk, give me 5 minutes of your time.” he said almost pleadingly.

“fine, come inside.” you said and you watched him walking inside with this stupid grin still plastered to his face. “what do you want?”

“to talk. can i borrow a smoke?” he leaned against the door, pointing at the cigarettes in your hand with his head. you raised your eyebrow and gestured him to go with you. he smirked and when you went outside you were both leaning on the railing. you placed cigarette between your lips and you lighted it. you raised the package towards him so he can grab one for himself. he grinned and he wrapped his lips around it, taking lighter from you as well. “thanks.”

“so what do you want?” you asked, grabbing lighter back from him. he hesitated before answering you.

“i just want us to get along for the summer, truce.” you only scoffed at his words. “come on, i’m serious. i know we’re not fans of each other, but i really don’t want to have shitty summer just because we have to be under one roof.”

“hate to say it, but maybe you’re right. for once of course.” you said, inhaling smoke. he looked at you surprised.

“wow, did you actually admit we should get along?” stupid grin again and urge to just kiss it off his face getting stronger.

“no, i admit we should be civil for Jenna’s and Matthew’s sake.” you said, looking in front of you at the dark forest, where the lake was shining from the moon between trees.

“fine, whatever you call it, princess.” he grinned, looking directly at you. “you’re staying for whole summer?”

you nodded. “you?”

“same, whole summer with you. lovely.” he took long drag from his cigarette.

“i thought we agreed to be civil.” you rolled your eyes and exhaled smoke.

“we did. it doesn’t mean i can’t tease you a bit.” he smiled, showing his dimples. you shook your head but small smile still appeared on your face. “looks like you’re enjoying it.”

“enjoying is a big word.” you said, rolling cigarette between your fingers.

“then what would you call it then?” his eyes never leaving your silhouette. you just shrugged. his eyes were focused on your face. “you look good when you smoke.” you narrowed your brows and you looked at him when he said that. his eyes widened slightly, of course it slipped. he tried to shrug it off so he just continued with it. “what? just because we don’t like each other doesn’t mean i can’t find you attractive.”

“maybe, yeah, i guess.” you mumbled, taking last drag from cigarette and extinguishing it on the railing. you tossed it somewhere to the forest. he did the same, looking at the stars.

“what are you gonna do for the rest of the night?” he asked, clearly interested for some reason.

“sleep, smartass.” you smiled slightly, looking into the forest. you could practically heard how his eyes rolled at your comment.

“i figured that much, what i meant is that it’s pretty early still.” he said, looking back at you now. you shrugged.

“i’m gonna lay in bed i guess, i won’t be sleeping till 4 am or something probably.” you said casually, fidgeting with lighter in your hand. he narrowed his brows.

“it’s because of your nightmares?” he asked almost immediately. you froze your movements.

“how do you know i have nightmares?” you asked, clearly taken aback from his question. he cleared his throat.

“i might overhead once when we were still in high school, when you were talking about it with Jenna.” you rolled your eyes at his words.

“okay, it’s whatever, we’re not talking about it.” you said and you started going into the direction of your room. he followed you. “i’ll try to fell asleep, good night Harry.”

“yeah, good night y/n.” he mumbled just before leaving your room. you sighed and went to the dresser, grabbing oversized t-shirt to sleep in and black panties. you quickly changed and you hopped into the bed. your joy from falling asleep fast never lasted long. you woke up with a scream. another nightmare. few seconds passed and Harry bursted through the doors. he watched your horrified expression and he immediately went to sit on the bed with you. he wrapped his arms around you, without hesitation. “everything’s okay, i’m here, you’re safe.” not thinking for long you went to sit astride his lap, hugging him and nuzzling into his neck. he wrapped his arms around your waist, rubbing your back with his hands.

“i’m sorry.” you mumbled into his neck. your lips brushing against his skin and you could feel goosebumps appearing in this place. “for waking you up.”

“don’t apologize, it’s all good.” he responded quietly. his breath hitched in his throat when he felt your lips on his skin. “come on, look at me.” you pulled out from his neck. he cupped your cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “you okay?”

“yeah.” you said quietly. your eyes darted to his lips for a second. you instinctively licked your lips and your eyes went back on his.

“baby, don’t do that.” he muttered, licking his own lips. your eyes went back to his lips.

“call me baby one more time and i’ll fuck you right here and now.” you almost gasped at this point. second later you felt his lips on yours in needy kiss. you kissed him back immediately, parting your lips slightly to feel his tongue. his hands gripped your ass firmly, causing your moan into the kiss. he pulled you closer and you could feel how hard he was already. boxers being only thing on his body wasn’t helping at all in this situation. you went down with your hand to palm him over his boxers.

“fucking hell.” he gasped into the kiss when you started moving your hand. he squeezed your ass, another moan escaped your lips. he pulled out from the kiss to kiss and suck on your neck instead.

“fuck.” you gasped. he removed one of his hands from your ass and he slid it into your panties. you moaned at sudden action.

“so fucking wet for me already.” he groaned into your neck after starting tracing circles over your clit, making you squirm on his lap. he removed his hand from your panties to quickly take off your shirt. his hands touched your waist, going up to your naked breast. “so beautiful, y/n.” he said, wrapping his lips around your nipple to suck on it. his hand went to your other breast to squeeze it. “we have to go to my room for condom baby.”

“i have one.” you gasped, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair. he let go of your nipple and he looked at you.

“you planned fucking someone in this house or what?” he chuckled, leaving kisses on your breast.

“no, i’m using it for dildo sometimes.” you said, swallowing quietly. he stopped his actions and he looked at you. his eyes dark and you could tell his mouth dried from your words. grip on your hips tightened. images of you playing with yourself going through his head. you gripped his chin. “you’re fucking imagining it, aren’t you?”

“you can’t just say that and expect me to not do that.” he laughed devilishly. “besides… i wish you’d let me watch sometime.” he smiled slyly. you could feel you’re getting even wetter from his words.

“you’d like to watch, huh? you’re so fucking dirty.” you said, pressing your lips on his. “what would you do while watching me playing with that toy?” you mumbled against his lips. he groaned at the thought.

“i’d sit with my cock painfully hard, waiting for you to tell me when i can touch myself.” he gasped into your lips. you moaned into the kiss at this words. “now on your knees baby, you’ll show how much you want me.” you got down in front of him when he was sitting on your bed. he quickly took off his boxers, freeing his huge cock from it. you started drooling only from sight of him.

“of course you’re fucking big.” you gasped, spitting on his dick. he chuckled softly at your words, but it changed into the loud moan when you started stroking him. you leaned down, wrapping your lips around his tip. he inhaled sharply.

“feels so good already y/n. your pretty lips looking so good on my cock.” he praised and you almost moaned at his words. you started moving up and down on him, hollowing your cheeks inside. your tongue working on him. you wrapped your hand on the shaft where your lips didn’t reach to stroke him. his hand went to grab your hair. “sucking me like a fucking slut, such a good girl.” he was panting. you moaned around him at this words. you picked up your pace, looking up at him. his head tilted back and he was breathing heavy. “you’re so good for me, fuck, keep doing that and i’ll come so fast.” and oh god, you didn’t even thought about stopping it. you felt his thighs started to shake slightly since your one hand was placed on it. his grip on your hair tightened, his moans became shaky and uneven. “baby i’m gonna come, can i come inside this pretty mouth of yours?” he looked down at you, and you nodded immediately. after few movements of yours you felt him filling your mouth with his cum. his dick was twitching in your mouth. you slowed down your movements to help him come down from his high. you sucked him clean, swallowed everything and then let go of him. you were panting just like him. he immediately lifted you up to his lap and crushed his lips on yours. when he pulled out he gasped. “you’re so fucking amazing, you did so good for me.”

“i’m glad you enjoyed.” you smiled slightly at him. he chuckled softly.

“enjoyed is not right word sweetheart, i fucking loved that.” he smiled, stroking your hair. “i’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget your name.” he lifted you up with him and your back met the mattress. your panties were suddenly gone and you watched him getting on top of you. “gonna finger you a little, yeah?” he gasped into your lips and without waiting for your response he slid two fingers inside you, knuckles deep. “so fucking wet.”

“holy fuck.” you moaned and your back arched from sudden action. you felt his fingers curling into perfect angle, pumping in and out.

“already clenching around my fingers, can’t wait to feel you on my dick.” he kissed your lips hungrily while fingering you. after few seconds he pulled out his fingers, bringing it to his mouth and sucking them clean. “fucking delicious y/n, you taste devine.” he opened the drawer of your nightstand. with condom in his hand he started to stroke himself, watching you and your body all the time. his lips were slightly parted and his cock already hard, ready to take you. he quickly opened the wrapper and rolled it onto himself. it was in fact a little tight on his length. his hands parted your legs as he positioned himself between them. his tip teasing your entrance, causing your moan. “gonna take me like a good girl?”

“yes.” you gasped, looking into his eyes. he entered you slowly, stretching your walls perfectly. you grabbed his bicep, digging your nails in it. your head tilted back from overwhelming feeling of how big he is. “fuck, Harry!”

“yeah? like how my dick is filling you to the brim?” he grabbed your nipple between his teeth, biting it softly. “you’re so fucking tight, already squeezing me deliciously.” his tongue flickered over your nipple.

“oh my god.” you moaned, arching your chest towards his lips. he started moving slowly at first, letting you get used to the feeling. “feels fucking good.”

“fuck, swallowing me whole with your pussy like goddamn whore. this condom of yours feels so tight on me y/n.” he panted, going slightly faster.

“then take it off, i’m on birth control.” you gasped, arching your back when he picked up the pace.

“holy shit, you sure?” you nodded at his question. he pulled out and he quickly took it off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. he groaned when he felt you raw like that. “fuck, y/n… gonna paint your fucking walls just right.” you moaned feeling him like this. he started moving so fast. you wrapped your legs around his hips to give better angle for yourself. when he adjusted you could feel him hitting your sweet spot with every move and you almost cried out of pleasure at that. “fucking found it, feels good?”

“so good, yeah.” you panted. his hands went on your hips to go even faster and you already could see the starts. your eyes rolled back and your whole body arched.

“you look like a fucking goddess like that y/n.” he panted, moving faster. “can tell you’re already close the way you clenching on my cock. gonna come for me baby?” his hand traveled to your clit to rub it and it was your last button, it all felt almost like too much.

“fuck, Harry, yes, oh my god!” you trembled when he started rubbing your clit. your pussy clenching on his cock hardly. “i’m so close, please.”

“my pleasure you fucking cunt.” he panted, moaning just after his words. he was on the edge. “come for me y/n. need you to come for me now.” you nodded.

“Harry, holy fuck!” you cried out when you came around his cock. your walls clenching around him and your juices milking him. your whole body arched and trembled.

“jesus, y/n.” he moaned loudly and you felt him coming deep inside you. hot sperm strands painting your walls and his dick pulsating inside of you. you both were breathing heavy. he collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he placed few kisses there, before pulling out from your neck to look at you. “you’re amazing y/n.”

“you’re amazing too.” you managed to say after few seconds of heavy breathing. he placed few pecks on your lips before pulling out. you gasped at the feeling.

“fuck, this looks amazing babe.” he said, shamelessly looking at your pussy that was dripping from your mixed juices. “gonna get something to clean you up.” he said, going to the bathroom for towel, wetting it with warm water. he quickly but carefully cleaned you up. he laid down next to you, pulling you into his embrace, kissing your temple. “can’t wait already to watch you playing with that dildo of yours.”

PART 2

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smuttyaf · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞: 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞/𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛��𝐬𝐦. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬:

his life is starting to affect you.

𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛:

the story about how you meet.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭:

harry shows you what he does for work.

𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐫. 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬: ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry introduces bdsm.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

secrets cut wounds into the relationship.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

you’re compelled to adapt to his lifestyle.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? ( 𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

harry likes to see you

#smuttyaf #harry styles fic #ongoing story #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #hs #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #mafia au #mafia!harry #mafia!harryau #eep! i hope you enjoy this ongoing storyline!#this is my first time taking one seriously so fingers crossed:)

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nervouseden · 6 months

Text

Bucky being Bucky in bed.

(How I think he'd act)

Warnings! NSFW. Soft!Dom!Bucky. Choking. Light power play. Pet names (Amare(love), doll, baby). Fingering. Unprotected sex (DON'T DO ITS BAD). Praise. Sweet!Bucky. Grinding. Fluff. Light aftercare.

Bucky is a massive tease, making you wait, making you squirm, making you beg, all just because he likes to see what he does to you.

Bucky would spread soft kisses all along your body, starting from your face, going down your neck, to your abdomen, and so forth.

Bucky's kisses often get more intense as he works his way down your body, practically sucking on your skin by the time he's at your hips and thighs. "Fuck, Doll, you taste so good."

Bucky loves wrapping his Vibranium hand around your throat, squeezing his metal fingers and thumb at the sides of your throat just enough to cut off a little oxygen and heighten your senses and pleasure, but never enough to actually hurt you. He cares too much.

Bucky would always take his time warming you up, spitting on his hand, slowly stretching you with his finger, then adding another just as you start to get comfortable with the first.

He curls his fingers inside you, speeding them up and adding a third, holding your hips down with his metal hand, leaving faint red marks that will turn to light bruises he'll tease later on.

Bucky groans low in his throat, loving the way you feel around his fingers, but needing you around his cock. Now.

Bucky suddenly pulls his fingers from you, spitting on his cock, the tip against your entrance. "Are you ready, amare?"

When you give him permission, he starts to carefully prod his cock at your hole, slowly pushing in inch by inch, watching you for any discomfort or pain, gently rubbing your neck and shoulders in a comforting gesture.

Once Bucky's fully inside you, he stills his hips, giving you time to adjust as he leans down and peppers small kisses along your face and neck, whispering words of encouragement.

"You feel so good,"

"So fuckin' perfect,"

"You're doing incredible, taking me so well."

"Love how you feel, darling..."

Bucky starts to slowly rock his hips, making small thrusts, careful not to hurt you. He'd never want to hurt you, you're his everything.

As Bucky feels you adjust, he softly speaks. "Remember our safe word?" Only when you say yes, does he start to actually move, his cock starting to slide a little bit deeper with each thrust.

His hips move against yours in rhythmic motions, pumping into your body fast and pulling out slowly, before pumping in again.

Bucky leans down again to kiss your lips as his hips speed up even more. "Feels s'good..." He praises, his flesh hand on your hip, warm and soft as it rubs circles on your smooth skin.

Bucky sucks on your lower thighs as he continues to plow into you, his flesh hand wrapping around one of your thighs as his vibranium hand wraps loosely around your neck. "I wanna feel you cum, amare..."

Bucky trails kisses down your neck and jaw, sucking on the skin behind your collarbone as he feels both of you getting closer.

He lifts your legs, putting your thighs flesh against his chiseled chest, kissing the flesh as your calves hang over his shoulders, his cock scraping deeper into you with the new angle.

His breath is ragged now, feeling both of you teetering on the edge of release. Bucky leans even further down, bending your thighs with him as he bites into your shoulder, squeezing your throat even tighter as he thrusts harder.

Bucky feels you squeeze around his cock your climax hitting you, and that's all it takes. A low, animalistic growl leaves him as he pulls out of your body replacing his cock with his flesh fingers, cumming on your chest, stomach, and pelvis as he grinds his cock against your thigh.

He shudders and moans, moving his fingers inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm as he releases your shoulder from his teeth, softly sucking and kissing the sting away from it.

Once you start coming down from your high, he slows his fingers, smiling softly at you. "You did so good, Doll." Bucky kisses your lips softly, his own gentle and affectionate.

He pulls back from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, smiling, and staring into your eyes. "You feelin' okay?"

Bucky smiles at you, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheek, your chin, your other cheek, then pulls your left hand up to kiss each knuckle, then does the same with your right. "I'm so proud of you, you were so good for me, baby."

He moves off of you, reaching to the bedside table, grabbing a baby wipe. "Just gonna clean you up a little, that alright?"

Once you give permission to Bucky, he smiles, taking the baby wipe, gently wiping the cum and excess sweat from your chest, tummy, pelvis, and entrance, making sure to be both cautious and meticulous.

After Bucky cleans you up, he throws the wipe away and crawls back into bed with you, lightly kissing each bruise and hickey he made on your hips, thighs, and neck. "You look so incredible, Baby."

Bucky then lies down next to you on his back, pulling you onto his chest. He plays with your hair with his flesh hand, while his metal hand rubs small circles on your back. "I love you, Doll."

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godslino · 7 months

Text

GUTTER BALL | changbin first date series. one night stand to lovers.

pairing: changbin x fem!reader word count: 5.2k genre: non idol au, fluff warnings: implied sexual content, swearing, mentions of drinking summary: a one night stand with changbin ends in pancakes and the promise of a date. the rest is history.

a/n: finally! the changbin chapter! i just want to take a second to say THANK YOU for all the support you guys have given this series so far. reading everyone's comments is genuinely the highlight of my day and i'm so happy you're all enjoying it. please remember that both my taglist and my requests are open, so don't be shy. once again, any and all feedback is appreciated. you guys are awesome, happy reading <3

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that this is not your room.

Blackout curtains, a lamp on the bedside table painting the walls in a warm glow, navy blue sheets that are pulled over your bare chest and—oh.

Oh.

“Fuck,” you mutter, throwing your arm over your eyes, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Everything comes flooding back in an instant: the bar, dark curly hair, one too many drinks, a voice low in your ear, stumbling through his apartment door, the most ripped arms you’ve ever seen, and that tongue—

The sound of a door unlocking shakes you from your thoughts, followed by shoes being kicked off as you scramble to sit up and hug the sheet tighter around your body.

What was his name—Changbin? Changbin. That sounds right. At least from the memories you have where it was coming out in strangled moans from your throat. Which is dry, by the way, undoubtedly from the amount of alcohol and the…strain it was put through.

You don’t really have time to unpack that particular part of last night’s events when there’s a knock at the door—funny, because this is his room.

Flattening your back against the headboard, you clear your throat as best you can, “Come in.”

When it opens, Changbin’s head pops through, tufts of his hair sticking out from under a baseball cap. “Hey,” he says softly before stepping all the way in. He takes one look at you, your hands holding the bedsheet in a death grip, and wordlessly walks over to his dresser.

“I bought food,” he says with his back turned, pulling out a sweatshirt. He pulls out a few sweatpants too, shuffles through them until he finds some with a drawstring, and then turns back around to face you with the clothes held in his hand.

He looks…apologetic? Nervous? Really, really cute? That’s not a question, actually. He is cute.

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’re seeing him in better lighting for the first time, or maybe because you’re sober, or maybe because the only other image you have of him is when he’s hovering over your body and making you see stars, but you can’t help the little fluttering feeling that starts in your chest when he gives you a small smile.

“Your dress is kind of…I, uh…it’s ripped.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock at the same time you feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh,” is all you can say as you desperately try to remember that part of the night. Hands are all you see, big and strong, and you silently let your gaze fall to them as he moves forward to place the clothes at the foot of the bed.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, “You can have these. They should fit you, and I don’t mind losing them. Consider it my reimbursement for ruining your dress.”

You lean forward slowly, still holding the blanket to your chest, and Changbin has to stop himself from staring at the exposed skin of your shoulder when your hair falls forward in the process. “These are—” your eyes go wide, “Balenciaga?!”

He blinks like you didn’t just name drop a brand that sells singular articles of clothing for double your paycheck. “Yeah?”

“I can’t take this.”

“Why not?”

“This costs more than me,” you say incredulously.

He moves to argue, but then a slow grin starts to spread across his face. He tones it down, minimizes it to a single upturn of the left side of his mouth. “I mean, you don’t have to wear anything. I don’t mind either way.” Changbin smirks, and you narrow your eyes.

“However,” he continues, “I would really, really like to see you in my clothes.”

🎳

“He gave you a what hoodie?” Felix’s voice is distant on the other end of the line. The clicking of his keyboard stops, there’s a rustle, and then suddenly his mouth is a lot closer to the speaker than it’d previously been.

Changbin’s en suite is huge, just like his bedroom. Once he slipped out to give you privacy, claiming he was going to set up the food, you’d allowed yourself to fully take in your surroundings. A california king sized bed, a walk in closet, an attached bathroom with a balcony.

You sigh, leaning back against the marble sink. Changbin’s sweats sit low on your hips, his hoodie all but swallowing your figure into the material.

“That’s not the point, Felix. Were you even listening to me? An entire five minute monologue about how I’m in his house and all you care about is the Balenciaga?”

“Does he have any, like, really hot friends?”

“Felix.”

“Wait. Is he really hot?”

“Felix!” you bring a hand to your forehead, using your thumb and middle finger to rub at the spots just above your eyebrows. “You’re not helping here.”

“Okay,” Felix says, his voice low, “It’s just that I’m having an issue seeing what the problem is.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to fight the oncoming headache as Felix rambles on.

“This guy brought you back to his place, rocked your world, and then what? Cuddled you? Bought you breakfast? Gave you his clothes that are worth more than my car and is now waiting for you to come out of his bathroom and enjoy a nice meal? And that’s bad because…?”

“You know what? I’m hanging up.”

“The hell you are! I left my fucking fortnite match for this! You’d better go out there and—” You slam your phone down on the bathroom counter, the sound echoing. If Felix wasn’t going to validate your very unnecessary nerves, then so be it.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, unfamiliar with the person looking back. It’s a little jarring, the sight of you in someone else’s clothes. A man’s clothes, no less.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything close to this sort of…intimacy. Hookups are normal for you, sure. But the mornings after are usually never more than a hurried goodbye as you gather your things and haul ass out the door. Most of the time you don’t even stay, sobered up enough after your post-coital state to slip out into the night and call an uber.

Your memory had come back in full as you were slipping Changbin’s clothes on once he left the room. The sex was great—amazing even. But afterwards, when he turned over and slipped an arm around your waist and hooked his chin on your shoulder was what really scared you.

Okay, maybe scared is an exaggeration. You aren’t scared, it’s just been a while. So what if you don’t crave male validation? Sex is the fun part anyways. Dating doesn’t necessarily go well for you, and feelings are definitely off the table when it comes to hookups. Because that’s all it is: a hookup. Changbin is no different.

You give yourself a total of thirty more seconds before braving a step out into the hallway, sheepishly peeking around the corner.

The apartment is unsurprisingly huge as well: a high ceiling, intricate marble flooring, a chandelier hung in the center of the living room that reflects the sunlight coming in from the floor-to-wall windows on the opposite side.

“Woah,” you say to no one in particular, walking into the dining room area, “This place is intense.”

Changbin looks up from his phone. His hat is off now, a mop of curls sit messily on his head, thick-rimmed glasses are situated at the tip of his nose, his arms—straining against the fabric of his black t-shirt—rest heavily on the table. You watch as he lets his eyes travel the length of you, painfully slow, something unreadable behind them.

“Food’s ready,” is all he says with a smile.

You sit down across from him, eyes wide. It’s like he bought out the entirety of an IHOP while you were asleep. There’s pancakes and waffles, hash browns and toast, an assortment of fruit, two different omelets, two cups of coffee, and at least five different types of syrup options.

“Are we…” you trail off, meeting his expectant gaze, “…expecting other people?”

Changbin nervously scratches his chin. “No, uh, I just—I didn’t know what you liked. And you were sleeping, so…yeah. I tried to cover all the bases.”

When you don’t respond, your eyes transfixed on him, he clears his throat. “Please eat,” he says, extending a hand to gesture at the food, “Let me know if there’s anything else you want.”

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing a fork. Changbin waits until he’s certain you don’t immediately hate it and then starts to eat, too.

It’s quiet, comfortable, sounds of cutlery clinking against plates are the only thing filling the silence as the two of you try to soothe your hangovers with full stomachs. You steal glances at him throughout, watch the way his lips pout when he chews, and then shyly look back down at your plate when he catches you staring. It’s kind of sweet, the idea that he did all this despite only having met you twelve hours ago.

It should be more awkward, too. You’re going to have to talk at some point. There’s an elephant in the room that’s shaped a lot like post-nut clarity mixed with morning-after regret and neither of you are making a move to address it.

“So um, about last night…” Changbin starts a few minutes later. He looks nervous, like he doesn’t know how to vocalize what he plans on saying next.

You nod, putting your fork down. This was to be expected. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m done eating, don’t worry.” Changbin’s head snaps in your direction. “It was really nice of you to get food and stuff, so thank you. I can put my dress back on too so that way I don’t have to take—”

“What?” Changbin furrows his eyebrows, “No. Wait. I’m not kicking you out, Jesus.”

You blink. “You’re not?”

“Of course not.” He stills. “Is that how these things usually go for you?”

Well that isn’t exactly a question you planned on answering. What are you supposed to say? Yeah haha I actually just kind of leave before they have a chance to come back from the bathroom?

“I mean, is that not how it goes for you?”

The blush that spreads across Changbin’s cheeks is hard to ignore. “I don’t—uh…I don’t do this.”

“You don’t buy girls breakfast after you sleep with them?”

“No I don’t—I don’t bring girls home.” He admits.

Oh.

“So I’m…?” The first, you want to ask.

“Yeah.”

Oh.

You’ve never been in this situation before. Apparently that’s Changbin’s specialty: helping you experience things that you normally wouldn’t.

“Listen,” he starts again, licking his lips. His leg is bouncing nervously, visible through the glass table. “I didn’t intend to sleep with you last night. Not because I didn’t want to! Fuck, I—I wanted to. And it was…God, it was amazing. But I feel kind of bad, because everything is out of order and I don’t want it to seem like I’m only trying to ask you now just because I want to get in your pants again or something but like—”

“Changbin,” you cut him off, “Breathe. You don’t—whatever it is you want to say, you can say it.”

He visibly relaxes as soon as his name comes out of your mouth.

“Can I take you on a date?”

There’s a long silence that follows, one that makes you question whether or not he actually said what you think he did. It feels a little surreal, not just the situation but Changbin himself. You went into this blind, completely void of any expectations, but somehow came out of it with—

“A…date?” you ask hesitantly.

“A date.” He repeats, more confident this time. “A real one. Not just a hookup. I mean, I thought you were beautiful—still do! That’s why I approached you at first. I wasn’t expecting to come back here but we were both drinking and then one thing lead to another and your face was so close and I—”

“Okay.” You say, stabbing at a piece of pancake with your fork.

“Okay?” Changbin asks, blinking at you like he didn’t hear correctly.

“I mean,” you swallow your food, “Typically I’d say you’re just trying to sleep with me, because what guy does all of this for a girl he knows literally nothing about?” Changbin nods in understanding. “But we’re kind of past that, aren’t we? So clearly you don’t have any other motives.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Nope. Definitely don’t.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, to which he visibly pales. “Wait, not like that. I just mean that I’m motivated by the fact that you’re beautiful and I want to get to know you not…anything else.”

When you laugh it’s soft, no more than a few heavy exhales out of your nose. Changbin wishes he could hear it more, could get you to open up to him. “I’m not too sure there’s much you’d want to know.” You admit.

“Well that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?”

His tone is different now, much more confident. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s more at ease with the conversation, or maybe it’s because he wants to prove you wrong. Either way, it makes anticipation stir deep in your gut. Changbin is different, a good different.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”

“So it’s a date?” He picks up a piece of watermelon with his fork, holds it out to you in some sort of a toast.

“Depends,” you poke another piece of your pancakes and let it hover in front of your face, “Are you gonna buy more of these?”

“I could make that happen.” He smiles, and for the first time you let yourself get lost in it.

“Then yeah,” you push your hand forward, clinking the sides of your forks together, “It’s a date.”

🎳

changbin [8:30am]

for you 🥞

you [8:31am]

are you going to do this every day?

changbin [8:31am]

absolutely

what kind of a man would that make me if i didn’t deliver your pancakes in the morning?

you [8:34am]

a normal one

changbin [8:34am]

sounds boring

do you want syrup with those?

🎳

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Felix says, leaning against the doorframe. He watches as you adjust your hair in the mirror, a wary look on his face from where you can see his reflection over your shoulder.

It’s been two weeks since you and Changbin hooked up. You’ve texted nonstop since then, most of it just casual conversation. It’s kind of nice; you get to hear about his day, what songs he’s currently listening to, and find out that he’s one hundred percent committed to the pancake bit. You let him know more about yourself too: your job, your annoying coworkers, which one of your comfort shows you’re rewatching for the fourth time. Changbin makes it a point to text you every morning and every night. You open your eyes to a pancake delivery and then close them after answering the question of: What type of pancakes do you want tomorrow?

Today, it was blueberry. Because today is the day you’re finally going on your date—and because Changbin’s sheets (that you haven’t stopped thinking about for some reason) are blue.

“What’s there to not believe, Lix?” you ask, turning to face him.

“I’m just worried.” He says, walking forward to place both hands on your shoulders. His face is serious, eyebrows pulled together slightly in that concerned look you know too well. Felix has seen firsthand what your last relationship did to you, spent nights with you tucked under his arm as you cried it out and he shoveled ice cream into your mouth. So yeah, he has the room to be worried.

“What if you mess up and I lose my chance to be his friend so he can give me a Balenciaga hoodie?”

Record scratch. Freeze frame. Whatever the hell happens in the tv shows. You shove his arms away with a scoff, rolling your eyes when he stumbles to the side as he laughs.

“You are so annoying.”

“And you better not ruin my chances of getting with one of his producer friends!” Felix calls out as you walk towards the living room. “I saw a cute one on his instagram. Don’t know his name—there was no tag, but oh my God, I love his nose.”

“You went through his socials?” you ask in disbelief, staring at him as he bends down to rummage through the fridge.

“Uh, yeah? Had to make sure he wasn’t some sort of weirdo that could possibly turn out to be a serial killer. Please, I’m not that bad of a best friend.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” You smile, laughing at the pout he shoots your way.

Changbin’s got his hands in his pockets when you swing the door open. His hair is even fluffier than you remember, a white t-shirt hugging his chest perfectly beneath his jacket and—the glasses. The damn glasses. Your stomach starts churning at the sight, the smallest of cracks in your reserve starting to form.

“You’re early,” you say, giving him a questioning look.

Changbin shrugs. “I was excited.”

“Sweet talking to me isn't gonna work, you know?”

“I don’t have a reason to sweet talk, I’m just being honest.” Changbin’s teeth are white when he flashes them, bright and sincere. He makes talking so easy, like he’s practiced it a thousand times. You like that.

“Well,” you clear your throat, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Changbin grins, grabbing your hand and leading you down towards his car.

🎳

Changbin, as you come to find out, is full of surprises.

First, he’s ridiculously good at driving. One hand on the wheel, the other mindlessly playing with yours where his hand rests on top of your thigh. The way he maneuvers the car is, well, it’s hot. It’s also really hard to focus your attention anywhere but his hands, especially when you know what they can do.

Second, he’s really, really silly. Most of the usual small talk made on a first date was done over text since it took so long to find a day that both of you were free, but that just made it so falling into step beside one another was that much easier.

Changbin isn’t afraid to sing along with whatever song is on the radio. In fact, he’s actually really good at singing. Well, when he’s not forcing the dramatics and belting at the top of his lungs while he pretends to romantically serenade you in the passenger’s seat. You can’t help but giggle, swatting his hand away when he makes exaggerated gestures in your direction during certain high notes.

Third, he makes your heart flutter. And not just the usual Oh you’re cute kind. No. Changbin makes your heart feel like it’s going to melt into the floor, all of your senses hyper aware of every part of him, wanting and craving more even when he’s right next to you.

He makes you laugh at unexpected times, encourages you to keep speaking if you ramble on for too long about something completely random, and his smile—oh man. Maybe Felix was right to be worried. Not about you messing up, but about you being absolutely head over heels for this guy.

By the time Changbin pulls into an empty parking spot, the two of you have settled into a natural back and forth that has your head reeling with how much fun it is.

“A bowling alley?” you ask, turning to him. Changbin turns the car off, stares at you in expectation. “You spent, like, five minutes telling me that you were taking me to the one place you feel most at home and it’s a bowling alley?”

“Woah, hold on. Are you mocking me?” Changbin smiles again, and suddenly nothing else matters.

“No I’m just—I feel bad.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Bad? Why?”

“I’m gonna, like, kick your ass at this. You know that right?” You say, chuckling.

Changbin stares at you for a moment, and then he’s laughing. A high pitched, steady trill of laughter that sends you into your own fit of giggles just from the residual joy that’s oozing out of him.

Once he’s composed himself enough, he points a finger in your direction, “Oh you are so on.”

The alley is pretty empty, the only other bowlers being at a far lane at the end of the building. Changbin takes the liberty of paying and grabbing both of your shoes, and you silently follow behind him as he leads you to your assigned lane.

“Weight?” he asks, tying his laces.

You glance up from your own shoes, watching as he shucks off his jacket. His arms flex nicely under the material of his shirt, straining against the fabric as he ties a knot.

“Huh?” you ask, not entirely present.

Changbin stands, smirks slightly. “What ball weight do you use?”

“Oh, uh, an eight please.”

He nods and disappears off towards the racks of balls, leaving you alone to scold yourself.

“Christ. Get a grip.” You mumble, smacking your forehead lightly with the palm of your hand.

It’s been a while since you bowled. When you were younger, your dad used to take you every once in a while and marvel at how good you were. That was a long time ago, when you had the time to enjoy things rather than work nonstop to keep yourself afloat. It’s kind of bittersweet being back in an alley, different circumstances but still the same familiarity.

Changbin comes back with two balls in his hands and places them on the ball rack. He glances over to where you’re keying in the names, smiling softly when he notices that you put him down as BIN.

“Ready to have all of your hopes and dreams crushed?” you ask, knocking your shoulder with his.

Changbin fakes a stumble, rubs his arm like you full on punched him. “Oh God, I don’t think I can play now.”

“Nice try sweetheart,” you scoff, picking up your ball just as the screen signals for the game to start, “Watch and learn.”

You move up to the beginning of the lane, trying to ignore the way Changbin whistles playfully when you do. The ball fits perfectly in your hand, round and smooth. One deep breath, you pull your arm back, slowly walk forward, and bend at just the right moment to send it off with a thud as it hits the lane. You watch with your breath held, hope that you’re able to prove you’re not all talk, and smile proudly when the ball goes crashing through the center pin, knocking them all out.

Changbin’s jaw is on the floor when you turn around. “Your turn, hot shot.” You say sweetly, patting his shoulder as you plop down in the seat next to him.

He clears his throat. “Alright.” He grunts, stretching his arms for dramatic effect. He lets out a loud yell, one of those Hoo! noises that people make before they’re about to do something crazy.

As he lines up to go, he turns, kisses his hand and blows it in your direction. “This one’s for you!” He shouts, winking when you hide your face in your hands out of embarrassment.

You watch as he rolls it forward, leans his body to the left when it curves way too far to the right, and then your hand is flying to your mouth to stifle your laughter when the neon pink ball goes straight into the gutter.

“Ah!” He screams, throwing his hands up and behind his head. He whirls around, points an accusatory finger in your direction, “You did this!”

“Me? What’d I do?”

“You distracted me!”

“I did not!

“How am I supposed to focus when the most beautiful girl in the world is watching me?”

“I—” you scoff, fighting the blush on your cheeks as Changbin walks toward you with a shit-eating grin, “Shut up. Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He crouches in front of you, trying to catch your eyes when you avert his gaze.

“Stop sweet talking. That’s a violation of the game rules. Cheating. You’re trying to distract me.”

“Trying to distract you or trying to get you to fall head over heels for me?”

You blink, “You don’t have to try and do that.”

Changbin searches your eyes for a long while, like he’s trying to decipher whether or not you’re being sincere. It looks on his face is one of disbelief, like it’s hard for him to be convinced that you reciprocate any of what he feels.

“Now who’s sweet talking?” He laughs.

“I’m not sweet talking, I’m just being honest.”

“That’s my line!”

“Well,” you say, standing to take your turn, “I wasn’t gonna steal your bad bowling skills was I?”

The game continues on after that. Changbin somehow manages to score three more gutterballs until you decide to take pity on him.

“Here, like this,” you say, walking up behind him. Changbin freezes when you press yourself up against his back, your hand steady on his forearm as you adjust his positioning.

“This is a little—”

“What? Don’t like it?” You giggle.

He clears his throat, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

When he sends the ball straight into the middle of the pins, earning his first strike of the night, he can barely contain his excitement as he yells, picking you up and spinning you around while you laugh and throw your arms around his neck.

It feels like floating, being with Changbin. He’s goofy and sweet and he knows exactly how to push your buttons all while making you feel as though you’re the only girl in the world. His smile is as bright as the sun and the way his eyes lock on to yours at any given point in time have you wishing you could lose yourself in them forever.

🎳

In the end, you win. It’s not a surprise to either of you, but Changbin couldn’t be bothered to care less. It doesn’t matter to him, not when he feels like he’s won the lottery every time you smile in his direction. And if that wasn’t enough, when you silently slip your hand into his as the two of you walk back to the car, he swears that he’s the richest man alive.

The feeling is mutual for you, too. Changbin has a way of making you feel like nothing else exists, not when he’s grinning at you from ear to ear and making you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. He’s unprecedented, a stroke of good luck, someone who came into your life when you least expected it.

Changbin, to you, is uncharted territory. He laughs loud and smiles unabashedly. If there’s a lull in conversation he’s not afraid to fill it with one of his many noises or silly dances. He says what he thinks and doesn’t care if it’s too cheesy or makes your cheeks turn just a shade darker with embarrassment.

Changbin is consistent; the first guy that hasn’t thrown you for a loop when it comes to figuring out who he is and what he likes. Changbin is someone you could see yourself falling in love with, one terrible pick up line at a time.

“So…” he says as soon as he walks you to your front door, “I had fun.”

You laugh, glancing down at where he has your pinkies linked on both hands. He’s so cute, everything about him. Changbin, Changbin, Changbin.

“Mmhm, it was really fun teaching you how to bowl.”

Changbin groans, leans his head against your front door. “I was under pressure.”

“That’s okay, I thought it was cute.”

“Hm. Does that mean I didn’t ruin my chances at a second date?”

“Depends,” you say, moving your hands up to clasp behind his neck. Changbin’s immediately fall to your waist, almost like second nature. Right, right, right. Everything feels right. “You could come inside and show me if it’s worth it or not.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles, “Don’t do that. You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

Changbin’s words are slow, each one more breathless than the last. It’s almost intoxicating.

“Maybe I want that.”

“Good,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against yours in silent question, “Because I’ve been crazy about you since the moment I first saw you.”

When his lips finally connect with yours, you’re thankful for the grip he has on your waist that prevents you from stumbling. Sweet like the syrup he bought for you that first morning, kissing Changbin is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not hurried or messy; it’s not done with the intent of something more to be given. It’s slow, purposeful, Changbin takes his time like he’s worried if he doesn’t you might break right beneath his fingertips.

He hums softly when you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulls you closer until you’re flush against him. Chest to chest, heart to heart—Changbin holds you like he never wants to let go.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are glossy, shining with adoration. You could get used to that.

“So you don’t want to come inside?” You ask again, smiling when he bites his lip.

“Not tonight babe, it’s only the first date. I don’t put out like that.”

You scoff. “Yeah? Well you definitely put something somewhere when I was—”

Changbin cuts you off with a palm over your mouth. “What kind of pancakes do you want tomorrow?” He laughs.

“Mmrrnnf.” You say, muffled his hand. When he removes it, you push your lip out into a pout. “I don’t want pancakes—just want you.”

Changbin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then lets his forehead fall against yours. “You’re making it really, really hard to hold myself back right now.”

You giggle, jutting your lips forward to give him a quick kiss. “Good, it’s working.”

He sighs. “Second date, and then maybe we can talk about…other things. But right now, I just want you to enjoy this. Let yourself settle with the fact that I really, really like you. This wasn’t just a one night stand for me, nor did I ever want it to be.” He plants a kiss on your nose, “I’m kind of, like, crazy about you.”

“Me too,” you say quietly, “About all of it. I want to keep seeing you, Bin. I want to see where this goes.”

Changbin beams. “Good.” He leans down to kiss you one last time, nothing more than a press of his lips to yours, but it’s more full of emotion than the last.

When he pulls away and starts walking backwards to head back down to his car, he feels like he’s on top of the world.

“I’ll text you in the morning?”

You nod. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Good,” he says with a wink, “The pancakes are on me.”

There’s a tug in your chest at his words. It’s crazy how something so small, something so simple can make you feel so strongly for someone. But you guess that Changbin is just like that.

And when you open the door, Felix’s entire body falling over the threshold from where he was leaning against it, you can’t even be bothered to get mad.

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie @drhsthl @shays-library @giuliadesu @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @snowyquokka @caitxx1 @skzstarnet] **colored tags indicate my inability to link your account. this could be due to an error when you filled out the google form or you do not have tags on.

#changbin x reader #skzstarnet #changbin fluff #changbin smut #changbin angst #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines #changbin au #changbin one shot #changbin fanfic #changbin fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #skz x reader #first date series #first date series : gutter ball

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mwahmimi · 21 days

Text

Telling secrets, there on the mattress. 💋

Taking another sip of the Merlot that Emily had kindly poured out for you into your lipstick-stained glass, you felt dizzy. You were somewhat seeing double in your inebriated state, but you didn’t mind, what’s better than one Prentiss? A second, obviously.

Tenderly she leans forward, you gaze into her eyes, each coffee coloured iris just sparkling under the big central light. Her lips pin up into a smirk, exposing her dimples on either side. Intoxicated and confident, you match her movement but let Emily lead the way. She was always the one in control, every time you met up, she took care of you.

It’s a dance the two of you have done for years, she takes to dinner, douses your stomach with too much red wine and pasta, shyly holds your hand down the street as she brings you home. It’s always the same excuse; “come and see how much Sergio has grown!”

In all fairness, you do get to cuddle with Sergio every time. But he lays between the pair of you, both of you, exhausted and nude, with the light from the cheap nylon curtains peeking through and gracing your bodies in sunlight.

This evening was no different, her crimson nails trailing up your wrists leaving your arms decorated with goosebumps under her fingers.

“You look so gorgeous tonight.” Emily all but purrs her compliment into your ears, her breath tickling over your neck causing you to shiver. She always knew how to get to you, her touch made your body ignite, no matter how little or gentle it was.

Her hands find your thighs, squeezing softly and skittering her nails in between them, feeling the pudgy flesh under her fingers and your conscious collapsing underneath her. Her smirk only grew wider with the knowledge you were hers, putty in her hands once again. With her lips marking your neck, biting heart shaped bruises into your porcelain complexion, you shuffle closer. Tearing her lips from your throat, crashing your lips into hers.

She tastes like the wine you shared and your fondest memories, no matter how much you try to deny her, you can’t deny the hold she has over. Pushing the thoughts of what your mother would think of you right now, your tongue makes its way into her mouth. Oh you could never resist her, and with her kiss she calls for you like a siren song. Every single brush of her tongue more sensual than the last.

“You missed me?” Emily teases, letting her knee push against your heat when she notices you squirming. Holding you closer and undressing you like you were the best present on Christmas morning. Watching her pupils widen as she glances over your now-bare breasts, she shakes her head and chuckles, leaning down to suckle over your rosebud nipples.

Unable to escape the pleasure, you rut yourself against her knee like a bitch in heat for as long as you’re allowed before Prentiss pushes your back to the mattress. Pinning you down with her hips as she plants gentle, wet kisses over your belly. Taking her time to tease around your belly button, twiddling with the piercing that resides there as you gasp and groan. With each kiss she travels further and further south, before her mouth meets your underwear-clad cunt.

Peeling away your already soaked thong, she brushes her finger over your clit, her touch featherlight and teasing. Noticing the way your head falls back in ecstasy as she taunts you with what you were both wanting.

“Tell me you want me.” She husked, twirling her fingers either side of your heart, just touching so close to where you wanted her most. The sensations were maddening, your core clenches around nothing as if it was asking for her fingers itself. You mewl out a few sweet nothings about how you’ve waited for this since the last time, how you can only get yourself off if you think about her standing at the end of your bed. With her hair tied up and her makeup a little messy, her strap-on tied tightly around her hips as she orders you to suck her dick. How the only thing that can make you cum alone anymore is the thought of looking up at her through your lashes and reminiscing of the feeling of her hand scratching your scalp as she praises you.

“Then you can have me, all of me.” The taller girl cooed before her fingers find your pussy once more. She traces circles over it softly, knowing how much you enjoy the build up and how much it drives you crazy when you get needy and beg for more. Your hips jerk up, searching for more of her, needing all that she could give you. She complies, making herself comfortable between your thighs before she tilts her face forward and passionately begins making out with your pussy. Each gentle stroke of her tongue flickering over your bead makes you beg. Thighs wrap round her head like a spider caught in a web, but Emily is not the prey and you are not a spider. For as long as you’ll let her, she’ll eat you out until you cry for mercy. You belong to her.

Emily flattens her tongue and licks stripes up to your clit, swirling her tongue around it with every stripe, completely unfazed by the bucking of your hips up into her face. They crash and collide like waves in the ocean and you were desperately to ride that high, your orgasm approaching quicker and quicker. When it hits it’s a tsunami, the mental memories flash before your eyes when the fireworks go off inside your belly, rutting your hips into her lips begging for more whilst your hands tug at her hair and caresses the back of her hair as gentle as you could be.

“P-Please.. Em please.. Again… Need to so bad.” You choked on your own words, sobbing in pleasure as you clench your thighs around her. Her hands make their way to your waist, pushing her thumbs into the depths of your hipbones, forcibly restraining you with her strength. Looking up at you through her eyelashes and nodding her head, you let go.

Coming undone on her tongue like it’s what you were born to do. You groan and writhe on her bed, soaking into her sheets you feel paralysed in pleasure. And she just won’t. Let. Up. She knew your maximum was two, you were never able to reach a third peak, by the end of your second orgasm, especially with Emily, you were exhausted.

Prentiss sucks on your clit through your orgasm, pushing your limits to see if she could get another one out of you. Over sensitive and now over tired you lay back, defeated. Letting her toy with you, using you as her very own sex you, you feel it. That familiar, wobbly feeling deep inside. You shriek, “N-No more, it’s too much.” Your demands fall on her deaf ears, lapping over your heat and suckling on your clit harshly.

Lightening strikes inside you again as you orgasm a third time. Convulsing, arching your back high off of the mattress you practically scream out for her. “Oh fuck Em! Yes! Right there!” With each word your pitch gets higher and squeakier, your thighs go limp underneath you and shaking through the after-shocks. You look down at the wet patch you’ve made on Em’s bed sheets, peeking through your squinted eyes, you examine her. Her lips now plump and swollen but still oh-so kissable, pussy drunk on the mix of her own saliva and your juices. Pulling her in for a gentle, you taste yourself on her breath.

Still blissed out, you fall back onto the mattress beside her. Her arm sneaking around your shoulder, pulling you close to her chest and letting your face rest on her breasts. Giggling softly with your noses rubbing against each others, all because you called her breasts your pillows. Taking turns being the little spoon to each other because how can you not want to hold her after she’s given you everything. Emily flutters her eyelashes against your cheek, butterfly kisses under the moon light with her would bring world peace, you thought silently.

You slip your hand into hers once more, interlocking your fingers and turning off the light. You sleep in her arms, her musky scent filling your nostrils and you just wish you could bottle it to keep forever. When you wake up, she’s gone.

A post-stick note on the bedside table reads, “Called into work early, I’ll be home around 6. Make yourself at home.” With a badly drawn love heart underneath the emergency contact number, you smile. This time, you’re not her’s for one night.

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sunny44 · 2 months

Text

Sparks and spats

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Warnings: Unrevised chapter, English is not my first language

Summary: Y/n and Lando can't go a minute without fighting with each other, but that's just a flawed way of hiding the sexual tension between them.

The tension between Lando and me was palpable. Since we first met, it seemed a simple glance could spark a heated argument. Our mutual friends, including Max F., had grown accustomed to the frenetic and fiery dynamic between us, who oscillated between teasing and almost kissing. The chemistry between us was undeniable, but both of us insisted on hiding it behind a facade of fights and barbs.

In recent months, our arguments had become almost a daily ritual. Any small comment could ignite another round of provocations. In the paddock, Lando would often tease me about my career decisions. I, in turn, would always find a way to jab at Lando in a sensitive spot.

"Do you really think that move in Padel was as amazing as you're making it out to be?” Lando asked, clearly provocatively.

"And do you really think driving poorly like that will get you the title?" I retorted, without losing my composure.

Our friends were no longer surprised. Max, especially, found amusement in our arguments, though he sometimes had to intervene to prevent things from going too far.

It was a Friday night, and the group of friends had decided to go to a nightclub to unwind after an intense week of training. The loud music and flashing lights created a perfect atmosphere to forget our problems and just have fun. However, the peace was interrupted when a rumor started circulating at our table: a mysterious blonde had been seen with Lando recently.

"I heard you've been seeing a girl, Lando,” Max said with a mischievous smile.

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, visibly irritated by the insinuation.

"It's not true. You, of all people, should know not everything online is true. Besides, she's not my type.” He replied, trying to stay calm.

"So, what's your type then? Flirty blondes that boost your ego?” I said, with a challenging smile and a penetrating gaze.

Lando turned to face me, and for a moment, the club's noise seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of us immersed in the tension between us. He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Nah, more like sassy brunettes who roast me every chance they get,” he replied, his voice low and full of intensity.

The silence between us seemed to electrify the air around us. Max, noticing the situation, tried to shift the focus of the conversation but not before exchanging a complicit look with the other friends, who also noticed the charged exchange.

I looked away for a moment, feeling my heart race. Lando's provocation had hit me in a way I didn't expect. Maybe, behind all the fights and barbs, there was something deeper. Something neither of us was ready to admit.

The night continued, but the tension between Lando and me was now even more palpable. His words echoed in my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder what else was hidden behind those bright eyes and challenging smile.

As the night progressed, the dance floor became the club's focal point. The friends dispersed, some dancing, others chatting in smaller groups. Lando and I, however, remained at the table, the tension between us visible to anyone watching.

Max, always the mediator, decided to intervene.

"You two need to dance. Come on, get up. Enough provocations for one night, let's enjoy being together." he said, pulling me by the hand and pushing Lando towards the dance floor.

Reluctantly, we both followed the flow. When we reached the dance floor, the music changed to a slow, sensual beat, and Lando took the opportunity to pull me closer. His hands rested on my waist, and I, hesitantly, placed my arms around his neck.

"You really can't help it, can you?" I murmured, my voice barely audible above the music.

"Help what?" Lando asked, leaning in to hear better.

"Provoking me. Making me confused," I replied, my eyes shining under the club's lights.

"Maybe because you do the same to me. Maybe... because I like seeing how you react." Lando smiled, a genuine smile, different from his usual teasing grin.

"That's not fair, Lando," I sighed, feeling vulnerable.

"I know," he admitted, his expression softening. "But what if... what if all this is just a way to hide what we really feel?"

"And what do you feel, Lando?" I stopped, my eyes locking onto his, trying to decipher the sincerity in his words.

"I feel that, despite all the fights and barbs, there's something between us. Something real. Something worth exploring." Lando stepped closer, our bodies now practically touching.

"Do you think we can give this a chance? Stop the provocations and see what happens?"

"I don't think we can stop the provocations because that's already part of us,” he said, and we both started laughing. "And I want to try, if you do too."

I hesitated for a moment before finally smiling.

"Okay, Lando. Let's try." With that, he smiled and pulled my face closer to his and kissed me.

The music changed to a more upbeat rhythm, and Lando twirled me around the dance floor, laughing. For the first time in a long time, the tension between us seemed to be dissipating, replaced by a new feeling.

Our friends, watching from afar, exchanged satisfied looks. Max, in particular, couldn't hide a broad smile. Maybe, finally, the incessant fights were over, though it made the nights more entertaining for them. He knew Lando deserved someone who was sincere and cared for him as a person, not for his fame.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“I think I like him”

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samandcolbyownme · 8 months

Text

Summary: Anon request - "virgin!reader x Sam"

Warnings: soft SMUT18+, some strong language, mentions of wine, fingering, protected first time sex, hair pulling, sensual smut, fully smut

Word count: 4.2k | not edited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"You don't have any plans tonight, do you?" Sam asks as he slips his big sweater over his head. You purse your lips as you think for a second before shaking your head, "Not unless they're with you."

You smile as he smiles and he walks back over to you, "Good. I made us dinner reservations, I'll be back at six to get you."

"Fancy or casual?" You turn around to rest your arms on the back of the couch, eyes watching him as he comes over and leans down, "Slightly fancy."

He peck your lips, "That okay?"

You nod, "more than okay, baby."

He brushes hair from your face, "Okay." He presses his lips to your forehead, "See you later."

You hold your hand up, watching as he walks towards the door, "Bye." As soon as the door closes, you pull your phone out, texting your best friend to call you.

A few minutes later, your phone rings and you answer, "Sam has a dinner planned tonight." You blurt out, "I think.. I think he wants to, you know."

"Have sex?" She asks with a slight laugh, "There's nothing wrong about that word, y/n."

"I know.." you say resting your cheek in your palm, "I just.. we've been dating for almost- we'll, it'll be three months tomorrow and I.." you let out a sigh, "I haven't told him yet."

"Told him wh- wait." She pauses for a moment, "You haven't told him that you've never had sex before?"

You loved your best friend because you can talk to her about anything, no shame at all.

She was your safe place.

No judgment at all.

"I haven't.. I just didn't know when, not like there's a right or wrong time or anything but mainly because I'm scared to tell him."

"Why are you scared, y/n?" She asks, pausing so you can answer, "What if he thinks I'm weird?"

She laughs, loudly, "I highly, and I mean high-ly doubt that he'll think you're weird. Someone who has never had sex before is hard to come by."

"I just.. I don't want to embarrass myself with him, you know, like I really want to with him, I just let my mind get the best of me, I guess."

"I want you to listen to me, y/n." She sighs, "The way Sam looks at you, is the way someone who knows they have a forever in their hands looks at someone, and that's even more rare than someone who still has their virginity."

You smile, "I know it's probably way too soon, but I honestly do think I love him."

"I wouldn't doubt it. You guys are tooth rottenly perfect for each other." She laughs slightly, "I'm sure he feels the same way about you."

You take a deep breath, "I'm going to tell him tonight, I mean it it all goes wrong and he does find me weird-"

She cuts you off, "He's not going to find you weird." She laughs, "I'm sure that will turn him on even more."

"Oh gosh, no. Stop it." You close your eyes, shaking your head, "I'm already nervous as is."

"Sorry, but no. I think it'll be okay." She pauses, "Just remember, that good things take time, and I'm sure that you being such a pure little angel will make it even better."

You smile, laughing slightly as you nod to yourself, "I'm sure you're right and I'm just overreacting."

"Isn't that what usually happens?" She laughs and you your eyes, "Mhm."

"Alright, well let me know how it goes. If you need, my door is always open for you."

You smile, "Thank you. I'll call you tomorrow or something."

"Sounds good. Now go pick out a pretty dress."

"I'll send you pictures. Thank you." You stand up and she sighs, "You got this. He isn't going to go anywhere."

"Okay." You nod, "Talk later."

"Talk later."

You hang up, letting out a long sigh as you make your way into your room to rummage through your closet.

After a while of holding up dresses to your body, you settle on a white knit dress with a cropped sweater attached to it.

You lay it on the bed, walking over to find a pair of shoes that go with it nicely. You pull out each pair of heel you have, nervous that nothing will go with it.

You set a pair of tan ankle boots next to it and tilt your head as you take a picture to send to your friend.

You smile at her reply, That is the cutest dress ever and the light tan color of those boots go so well. You'll look great, y/n!

You text her back and look at the time, it's almost four, which means you have two hours until Sam is back to pick you up.

You head for the shower, hoping to wash some of the anxiety you have, away.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You set the curling iron down after curling the last strand of your hair. You look into the mirror of your vanity and let out a sigh, "You got this."

Your phone vibrates and you pick it up, smiling when you see a text from Sam, On my way, sweetheart.

You text back, See you soon, baby.

You set your phone down, applying any last minute touches to your makeup before you stand up to smooth out your dress.

You grab your purse, hooking it onto your shoulder before snapping a picture to send to your friend.

She replies back as you walk out of your room, telling you that you look pretty and what not. She was your biggest support, besides Sam.

Sam has been there for you through everything that's happened these last two, almost three months. You guys clicked instantly and just like your friend said, you felt like you had forever in your hands when you looked at him, too.

There's a knock on your door and you stand up, walking over to open it. An instantly smile on your face when your eyes meet Sam's.

"Wow, you look gorgeous." He smiles as his eyes move down your body, "These are for you."

Your lips slightly part as your eyes move down to the bouquet of red roses in his hand, "Sam." You whisper looking back up at him as you take them, "They're so beautiful."

You open your arm, wrapping it around his neck. His hand lays on your hip and he turns his head to kiss your cheek, "Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful girl. You ready?”

You smile, "Yeah, let me just set these on the counter." You turn, walking back into your apartment to set them down on the counter, "Okay. Ready."

You walk over to him and link your arm with his. You pull your door shut before he leads you down to his car. He opens the passenger door for you, giving you a smile before he closes it.

He walks around, getting into the drivers seat, "That dress looks beautiful on you."

You run your hand over the fabric and look up at him, "Thank you. I got it a few weeks ago, figured now was the perfect time to wear it."

"Any time would have been the perfect time, babe." Sam smiles as he lays his hand on yours, interlocking your fingers together.

You bring your other hand over, tracing gentle circles on top of his hand. Your mind starts racing, but you quickly shut it down by reminding yourself of what your friend said.

You rest your head back, staring out the window at the lights of the city. Sam squeezes your hand, "You okay?"

You look over at him, "What, babe?"

"I asked if you're okay." He glances over at you, "You're quiet."

"Oh, I'm fine. Just enjoying the lights." You nod towards the window and he tilts his head, "You sure?"

You nod at him, "Yes, baby. I'm good." You smile, giving his hand a squeeze back. He smiles and pulls up to the doors.

You look over at him, "Valet?"

He smiles and nods, "Uh huh. Now wait here." He gets out, walking around to your side. He talks to the attendant before opening your door, "This way, sweetheart."

He holds his hand out and you take it as you exit the car, "Sam. This place is fancy."

He wraps an arm around your waist as you walk in, "You deserve it."

You smile as you walk with him to your table. He pulls your chair out for you and you sit down. He helps move your chair in before moving to sit beside you.

Your eyes scan down over the menu, "Everything sounds so good."

He nods, "I came here with Colby a few months ago, it was very good."

You set your menu down, looking from it to Sam, "I have to tell you something."

You can see it in his face that he doesn't like the sound of that but you quickly reassure, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad."

He lets out a sigh, "Oh god. Okay." He laughs slightly, "What's up, babe?"

Just as you're about to say it, the waiter comes over, "Good evening, my name is Frankie, I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?"

"Hello Frankie." Sam gives him a smile, "Actually, yes." He looks over at you, "How does a bottle of Sangria sound?"

You smile and nod, "Please."

Sam looks back at Frankie, "Well do a bottle of Sangria, red." He nods at Sam and smiles, "I'll be right back with that."

"Thank you." You and Sam say as he walks away. Sam looks at you, taking your hand, "So you were saying?"

You laugh nervously, "Oh, yeah. That." You brush a curl from your face and sigh, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, and I think you need to know before anything happens-"

He cuts you off, "Anything, sweetheart. You can tell me anything." You catch the hint of worry in his voice so you lean in, "I'm.." you pause, laughing slightly as you build up the courage.

You look up at him, "I'm a.. virgin."

He lets out the breath he was holding, "I thought you were going to say you can't see me anymore or something."

You lay your other hand on top of the one that's in your hand, "No, baby." You shake your head, "I just thought I should tell you, I'm not trying to rush anything by saying that, I just.." you raise your brows, "I just don't have any personal experience and I figured that that would be embarrassing on my end."

He reaches his hand up, thumb brushing your cheek, "There's nothing embarrassing about that, sweetheart." He smiles, "I think.. that's kind of sexy."

Your friend was right, you think as you bite your bottom lip, "Really?"

"There's a first time for everything, darling.." Sam smiles, "And if you are willing, I'd be honored to show you the ropes." He winks, causing a slight blush to take to your cheeks.

"Considering we're celebrating our three month anniversary tonight.." you rest your elbows on the table and lean forward, "I think tonight would be the perfect night for you to do that."

He tilts his head, "It's been three months already?"

You laugh, "I know. Time flies when you're having a good time." He laughs, sighing as he looks up at Frankie, "Thank you."

He nods, "Are we ready to order yet?"

"I am." Sam nods and looks over at you, "You know whatcha want?"

You motion to him, "You go first." You look back down over menu as Sam orders. You look up, ordering what you want before Frankie walks away.

You feel Sam slip his hand under yours and you look over at him as you sit your wine. He stares at you for a few seconds, "Why were you nervous to tell me?"

You shrug, "I didn't want you to think I was weird."

He laughs slightly, "Oh baby, why would I think you're weird? I think that's a good thing, you know?"

"Well.." you sigh with a smile, "That's certainly a relief."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·

As you leave the restaurant, your arm linked with Sam's, you can but feel a rush up nervous excitement.

You were more than ready to give yourself to Sam.

You wanted him to be the one to have you for the first time.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like it was meant to happen this way.

You watch as the valet attendant brings his car around. Sam leads you down, opening the passenger door for you.

"Thank you, baby." You give him a kiss on the cheek before getting in. He smiles, "More than welcome, my love."

He shuts your door, waving to the attendant and yelling a quick 'thank you' before getting in, "Alright. So where to now?"

"We can go back to my place." You bite your lip as you look over at him. He smirks, "say no more." He starts to drive, his hand finding yours like it always does.

You can tell he wants to ask something, but chooses not to.

"You can ask me, babe." You laugh slightly, "I'll answer any question you have."

He glances over at you, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable by asking anything."

You shake your head, "You won't."

"Why haven't you.." he pauses, "i don't know how to word it." He laughs nervously and you rest your head back, "Why haven't I ever had sex with anyone before?"

He nods and you shrug, "I just.. I don't know, really. It just never felt right with anyone. I was thinking about it, after I told you, and I honestly feel like it was meant to be this way."

He smiles as he comes to a stop, looking over at you, "Really?"

You nod, "I haven't felt this way with anyone. I actually told my friend earlier today that-" you stop once you realize what you're about to say.

You look over at him and he nods, "Keep going."

You take a calming breath, "I was just telling her today that I think.." you smile slightly, "I'm falling in love with you."

A smile takes over his face and he shakes his head, "I actually had sorta the same conversation with Colby the other day."

"You did?" You can feel your cheeks heating and he nods. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing them against the back of it, "I love you, y/n."

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, "I love you, Sam."

He presses a few kisses onto the back of your hand as he comes to a stop at a red light. He lets go of your hand and reaches up to pull you over as he leans over, and that's right when you knew that you definitely have the kissing at red lights kind of love.

"When we get back to my place.." you whisper as you lean back, "I want you to take me into my room and show me just how much you love me."

You were shocked that those words came from your lips.

But you weren't arguing about it.

"Anything for you, baby." Sam takes his hand back into yours as he continues driving.

Your stomach fills with, what feels like a thousand butterflies and he pulls into the parking space in front of your building.

He looks over at you, reaching up to cup your cheek with his hand, "I've never felt this much love for someone."

You lay your hand on his, "Me too, Sam."

He pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours before whispering a small, "Come on, sweetheart." He gets out, and like usual, comes and opens your door.

You cling to his arm, smiling as you walk up to your door. You unlock it, immediately pulling him in. He kicks the door shut as your hands go to the sides of his neck, lips meeting his.

His hands go to your waist, backing you up a few steps before he pulls your body into his.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, leaning his head back a little to look at you.

"I've never been more sure of anything before, Sam."

He smiles, brushing hair from your face, "Okay." He leans down, gripping the back of your thighs so he can lift you up.

Your legs circle his waist, arms wrapping around his neck as he walks you into your bedroom.

The most you’ve done with Sam is an old fashioned high school make out. Nothing more. He never pressured you into more, with him, it just feels so right.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, pressing little kisses onto your cheek as he lays you down on the bed. Your legs fall to his sides and he leans up to shrug off his jacket.

You watch was his hands move to undo each button on his white shirt as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

Your eyes move up to meet his as he slides it down his shoulders and drops it to the floor. He leans back down, body over yours as he presses his lips to yours again.

He grinds against you, earning a low moan from your lips, “That’s it, baby.” He kisses down your neck and back up, “If it feels good, tell me.”

You nod, tilting your head back as he attaches his lips to the skin of your neck, sucking to leave a mark.

You moan out quietly as your nails dig into his shoulders. His hand moves down to pull your dress up, letting it lay high on your thighs.

His hand dips in between them, gently dragging lines up and down your clothed, but soaked center.

“Please.” You whimper as you move your hips, “Please, touch me.”

He nods once, tilting his head slightly as he watches your face. He slips his fingers into the crutch of your panties, pushing them over before gently gliding a finger up and down, “This what you wanted, baby?”

You nod quickly, moving your hips up and down, “Y-yes.”

You thought him just grazing the outside of your pussy felt good, but it quickly heightened when he slowly plunged his finger into you.

You arched your back, letting out a whine as you squeezed around his finger.

“Feel good?” Sam asks rubbing your thigh with his free hand. You look up at him, lips parted as you moan to him slowly moving his finger out and back in, “Fuck, yes.”

Sam bites his lip, watching your body move from the pleasure he’s giving you.

He was in awe that you were his.

He slid his hand over, palming himself through his suit pants because the image of you was making him ache.

“Fuck, I know I keep saying it, but you look so beautiful.” He leans down, hand still between your legs, “So pretty.”

He gently presses his lips to yours and your hands move to his neck, sliding one hand up to tangle in his hair.

He lets out a groan as you tug, “So mine.”

You smile against his lips, arching your back as he curls his finger, “Fuck.” You slide your hands down his chest, “Please, Sam. I need you.”

He nods, “Alright.” He slowly pulls his finger out, “Take this off for me.” He tugs the hem of your dress before getting up to take off his pants.

His eyes are glued on you as you sit up to reveal your body to him. You let the dress drop to the floor before reaching behind you to unhook your bra.

He slips his fingers into the band of his boxers, pausing to just take a good look at you.

“What?” You ask, a shy tone consuming your words.

He shakes his head, “Nothing, I-“ he sighs and smiles, “You’re just.. ravishing.”

You give him a smile and look down, “Oh, thank you.” He strips away from his boxers, “Do you have a condom, by chance?”

“Actually.. I do.” You laugh, “my friend gave it to me a few weeks ago, long story but it pertains to you.”

He chuckles, “Oh jeeze, okay.” He walks over to the stand you pointed to, pulling out and putting it on before walking over to crawl up between your legs again, “You okay?”

You look up at him, laughing nervously, “Just.. kinda nervous.”

He brushes your cheek with his hand, “I got you, sweetheart.” He leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, “If it hurts or gets to be too much, I’ll stop.”

You nod, lying back as he moves up to hover over you, “Tell me when.”

You take a deep breath, giving him a nod, “I’m ready.”

Sam gathers some spit onto his fingertips and reaches down to coat the tip of his cock, “Just try and relax, baby.”

You spread your legs, laying your hands on his biceps as he positions himself at the entrance. You close your eyes, the rollercoaster of emotions hitting you at once.

Nervous.

Excited.

Happy.

But, you were ready for him.

You close your eyes, squeezing his biceps as he slowly slides into you, “Fuck.” He breathes out, “You okay?”

You nod quickly, eyes still shut tight, “Yeah.”

He pauses for a moment, reaching up to tilt your head up, “You sure?” You give him a smile, “Yes.” You lay your hand on his cheek, “K-keep going.”

He brushes hair from your face before reaching for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. He continues to push in, earning small moans from you.

You wrap your leg over his waist, squeezing his hand tight.

“Sam.” You moan out quietly, “That feels so good.”

He leans down, peppering your face with kisses, “That’s good, baby.” He pushes all the way in, resting for a moment, “You feel so good.”

You lay your free hand on his cheek, wiggling your hips ever so slightly, “Okay.”

He tilts his head, “Ready?”

You nod and gasp as he pulls out, gently thrusting back in, “Fuck, y/n. You feel incredible.”

His words send the anxiety and nervousness away. You feel so much closer to him already. You now know that this was the way it was supposed to be.

“I love you.” You whisper out, “I love you.”

Sam rests his forehead against yours, “I love you so much.” He lifts his head to plant a kiss, “So fucking much.”

You snake your arm under his, laying your hand in the center of his back as you moan out, louder than they’ve been.

“You sound so pretty.” Sam whispers in your ear before kissing down your neck. He groans lowly, “I want to get you off before I do, okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out, “Fuck.”

He thrust a little bit faster, still holding your hand in his. He reaches down with his other hand, pulling your arm away from his and holding your other hand.

He pins it by your head, forehead on yours, “I can’t get over you.” He whispers lowly, a moan following his words.

You smile slightly, brows furrowing as you feel an intense pleasure building up in your stomach, “I-I think I’m close.”

He nods, “Whenever you want, sweetheart.” Sam kisses your lips and you moan into his mouth, “Shit. Shit.”

You tighten your leg around his waist, bringing the other one up to lock around him. Your eyes roll shut as your back lifts off the bed and you squeeze his cock.

You drag your moan out, “Fuuuck.”

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.” Sam encourages, “That’s my girl.” He lets go of your one hand to brush hair from your face, “So fucking beautiful.”

Your chest rises and falls quickly as you come down, Sam not too far behind you.

His throws slow down, almost to a completely stop and you feel him twitch inside of you. He presses kisses over your face, “You okay?”

You nod, laying your hands on his cheeks, “I’m wonderful, baby.”

He smiles, “Alright, I’m gonna..” he nods down and you brace yourself before he slowly pulls out. He gets up, walking over to your bathroom to discard the condom and to grab a towel for you to clean up with.

You toss the towel down and turn back slightly to move the covers of the bed down. You move up and slide your legs under them, “Are you staying the night?”

You look up at him with a smile and he smiles, “You know it.”

He walks over to you, sliding in beside you and pulling the blankets up around you both. You snuggle into his chest, letting out a content sigh, “I definitely believe now, that this is the way it was to happen for me.”

Sam rubs your back as he smiles, “You think?” He looks down at you and you look up at him, “I know.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

I hope you enjoyed! I think this is one of my favorite Sam one shots that’s I’ve written so far.

As usual, let me know what you thought and thanks for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🖤

318 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 1 year

Text

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty.

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension.

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees.

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said –

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen.

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him.

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part.

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all.

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine.

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?”

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin.

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.”

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed.

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.”

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?”

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has.

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.”

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.”

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat.

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod.

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places.

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway.

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him – running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night.

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense.

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips.

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win.

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest.

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet.

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest.

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates.

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper.

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you.

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough.

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.”

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass.

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command.

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you.

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall.

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing.

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need.

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks.

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him.

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?”

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh.

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.”

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs.

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!”

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles.

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life.

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh.

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.”

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks.

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more.

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.”

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing.

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all.

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in.

If you just –

“Come for me.”

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot.

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck.

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again.

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down.

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely.

But that is something he is not capable of right now.

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse.

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them.

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days.

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open.

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off.

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest.

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.”

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission.

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands.

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again.

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you.

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you.

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.”

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end.

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him.

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips.

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick.

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you.

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,”

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.”

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips.

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb.

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls.

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning.

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs.

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth.

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth.

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?”

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.”

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.”

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s.

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted.

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open.

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week.

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you.

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release.

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.”

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking.

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted.

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his.

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken.

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels.

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake.

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek.

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change.

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs.

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles.

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock.

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.”

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you.

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession.

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?”

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck.

“Not at all.”

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while.

Noonan is annoyed.

Murphy is not.

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.”

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.”

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.”

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