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royalsweetteaa · 2 months

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Title: Thinking about us all

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following story contains: Explicit smut, MMF threesome, petnames (doll, sweetheart), dom/sub/switch roles, establishing polyamory, stucky, bisexual!Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes, oral sex (M/F receiving), cum eating, anal sex, rimjob (M receiving), unprotected sex, P in V/P in A sex, creampie, spitroast, love confessions, fluff, aftercare.

Sequel to: ‘Thinking about her’

Summary: Steve and Bucky finally confess their feelings to their female secretary, and luckily everything goes in their favor.

2nd person POV

It was another day at the Avengers Tower, and you were as per usual at your office handling the two super soldiers’ routine work such as letters and other paper work. Steve and Bucky had appointed a time in the afternoon to have a meeting with you.

While it was just a regular meeting of the week going over important future events they have to be prepared for, you always looked forward to those meetings.

You couldn’t help but thrive in the feelings the two men gave you as you sat alone all three, occasionally talking about personal things like the friends you had grown to be. It felt good, and you thought it was harmless to have a crush on them.

Okay, ‘crush’ could be an understatement, but it was still harmless if you kept it to yourself, right?

It wasn’t like you had expectations of them returning those feelings to you. You could tell what they had lied so deep, there was no way they would leave it for anyone else.

And you were completely fine with that. Seeing the two together made you believe soulmates for life was a real thing, and you looked forward to the day you would find your own.

But until then…

You kicked your feet giddily as you were waiting for the two men to arrive in the empty meeting room. A stack of files were in front of you and you kept a mantra in your head of all the topics you had to inform them about.

They finally came by the door minutes later, apologizing for their slight delay as they sat on each side, putting you in the middle.

You felt butterflies swirl in your stomach as they smiled at you ever so kindly, making small talk of asking how your day was and if you’ve eaten or drank enough water.

You respond saying you’re feeling just fine as you bring forward the folders, a copy for each to look at before you begin going through them.

It was much of the same schedule the super soldiers had followed for months, most importantly noted being that there was an international conference hosted by T’challa on Friday for them to attend to and a gathered Avengers meeting on the weekend.

As you rounded up the report of their upcoming schedule, you looked up at them, expecting that to be the end of the meeting as they thanked you for the report. But as you were about to stand up and conclude the meeting, they stopped you from rising up from your seat.

Bucky and Steve exchange each other confirming glances before they faced you again.

“Y/N, Bucky and I have something important we’d like to share with you…if you aren’t otherwise in a hurry to get home for the evening.” Steve begins.

You stared at him, your heart noticeably skipping a beat from the super soldiers’ ears as you say, “I’m not in a hurry…what’s up, boys?”

“We uh…”

“Well, you see…um…”

The men turn to each other again as if they are now realizing how difficult it is to lay out their confession of love to you compared to how they had imagined it in their heads. You all the meanwhile stared at them dumbfounded, not sure what was going on between them.

“…Is everything okay?” You ask with a hint of worry in your voice. “Has something happened that I should know about?”

“No, - I mean yes, everything is fine, it’s just…” Steve says. “We are a bit nervous to tell you, because…”

“…as it turns out…” Bucky slowly fills in.

“…we have feelings for you, Y/N. Both of us.”

“….Oh…wait, what?” You ask as you pull a double take when you let their words sink in. “How? - But -…aren’t you two together?” You ask the question with a confused frown. “I thought you had each other?”

“Well yes - of course we still love each other but, - we have kind of mutually developed feelings for you. And we aren’t just interested in you for ‘curious’ reasons - we genuinely like you, more like you’ve captivated us beyond just liking you, you know?”

Steve clears his throat as he speaks over Bucky, “What Bucky is trying to say is we both absolutely adore you, - how sweet and caring you are towards us in what feels like is something beyond just your job as a secretary and friend. It has come to us realizing we have more love to share, and we would like to share it with you. But we would also like to take you out on dates first as the three of us to explore our dynamic…with a romantic viewpoint.”

“That is…if you feel the same.” Bucky quickly adds. “Do you?”

You’re left in awe after everything they have told you, and you close your mouth as you try to gather your thoughts. “Wow, I…I’m in shock honestly. I didn’t expect this at all…” you say, causing Steve and Bucky to stiffen as fear starts to settle in on a possible rejection.

Had they read you wrong? Had they misunderstood your physical reactions for something else?

Steve shakes off the worries as he fills the paused silence with a thoughtful reminder, “You can think about it for as long as you’d like. We understand this might be all too overwhelming for you, so if you’d like for us to give you some space while you consider -!”

You shake your head as you dismiss Steve, “Wait, no…I…- truth is, I’ve had a huge crush on both of you for a while. But I never spoke or tried to make a move on any of you because I respect your relationship, and I would never, and I mean never try to ruin what you have. What you have is beautiful and I…” you sigh as your eyes get glossy. “I can’t believe you’re both interested in bringing someone like me into it. Like, do you truly mean that? Because I swear if you’re pulling a prank on me, I’m quitting today -!”

“We’re not!…we promise you that.” Bucky chuckles at your doubts, but also pulls a face of fondness. “And why would you think ‘someone like you’ wouldn’t be perfect for us? Sure, we are the super soldiers here but there’s only one of you in the entire world.”

“We have lived for a very long time and met all kinds of people. We know what we want.” Steve says. “We want you, as much as we want to be yours.”

“So what do you say?” Bucky asks as he gets closer to you, gently placing his hand on yours at the table. “Can you at least give it a chance?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you know already the answer to that, but still you take a moment to give it to them. “I…yes. I absolutely want to give it a chance.” You answer with a bright smile, and you witness as they pull gleeful smiles of their own.

The two men pull you into an embrace, surrounding you with excitement. You chuckle as you welcome them, pulling them closer with your own arms.

“But, that doesn’t mean I’m jumping into bed with any of you on the first week.” You clarify in a playful manner. “I’m not that kind of girl, you know.”

Both men hum as Steve comments, “Of course, we don’t expect any less, doll. I don’t know about Buck but I can wait for as long as you want before doing any of that if it means you’ll be ours.”

Bucky bumps into Steve’s shoulder, huffing, “I can wait too just fine!”

Steve narrows an eyebrow and teasingly replies, “oh really? I seem to remember back on you being particularly needy one night and expressing how -!”

Bucky shoves his palm over Steve’s mouth, making him unable to finish his sentence. “Okay, that’s enough oversharing, Steve…”

Giggles erupt from you and the two men turn to you, smiling somewhat confused.

You shook your head, “Don’t you worry James, I’m not going to lead you on. Just work for it and you might get some of me soon enough. That includes you too, Steve.”

Both men nodded, saying in unison “Yes, ma’am” before they wrapped an arm around each of her side and left to the parking lot to drive off for some more spend together.

The next few weeks consisted of dates in romantic locations and dinners at each other’s places.

As true to the men’s word, they never pressured you into anything, - so much so that you had to engage in your first kisses with them. Kissing would develop into sweet long-drawn kisses, then eventually into full make out sessions.

While they were heated and breathless by the end of it, nothing went beyond of what you wanted and you continued your conversations like it was nothing, - except the noticeable big bulges between their legs said otherwise when they so easily dismissed it.

One night during the usual ‘at home’ dinner though, you felt you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer either from what you desired, and one thing led to another involving the new founded throuple relationship.

You were on your knees, bare as the two men had gloried over your body earlier, seeing you bare for the first time. You had to stop them from taking it further as you were eager to please them first and have them reveal their naked selves too.

Before you knew it, they had unbuckled their belts and zipped down their trousers, revealing their huge semi hard cocks, twitching out of their restraints.

You took notice of how Bucky’s cock is thicker while Steve’s is longer, and even then your small hands struggle to fully wrap around both. You swallow as you ogle their lengths, licking your lips at the sight of them leaking pre-cum already. The men chuckled lowly, gesturing you to touch them any way you wanted to.

“Get closer to each other. My hands are too small to pleasure you both properly at the same time…” you pointed out with an undertone of nervousness.

Steve and Bucky could tell you were a bit anxious with the pressure on you as you were giving them pleasure by your own, so they encouraged you with tender strokes on your shoulder.

“You’re doing such a good job honey, don’t worry your pretty head…” Steve reassured.

“But don’t mind if we do get a little close...” Bucky added smugly as he got closely to Steve, letting you guide his cock to rub against Steve’s as you stroked them both in the same pace. You licked and sucked their cocks, taking turns as you swirled your tongue to have a taste of their pre-cum.

They grunted and held a hand on each side of your shoulder, encouraging you to keep going.

“Fuck, look at her…she’s more amazing than I imagined her to be..”

“Mmm, she’s perfect. You’re perfect, doll.” Steve redirected to you.

You looked up at them with doe eyes as you sucked their tips together, and the men thought they were loosing it at that moment.

“Oh fuck….Bucky…” Steve called after his lovers’ name to catch his attention before leaning in to kiss him, moans and whimpers leaving their mouths as you kept pleasuring them where it mattered.

You hummed around their cocks as you were sending down vibrations to their shaft, making them receive a shockwave of pleasure.

“Fuck! M’gonna cum, Y/N…milk us…take our cum…shit!” Bucky cursed as he felt his balls tightening. Steve followed suit too, releasing himself into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Steve groaned at the sight of you trying to swallow their loads, but ultimately spilling some down your chin.

“Language…” Bucky joked through a murmur, making Steve roll his eyes with a smile.

With the use of his thumb, Steve gathered what had spilled up from your chin to between your lips, having you suck his fingers clean lewdly.

Steve purred in delight, “What a good girl you are…taking us both like a champ.”

“Now you’re about to receive twice the reward, sweetheart…you sure you’re ready for it?”

You nodded eagerly, “oh fuck yes, don’t hold back on my account…”

The men smirked, knowing she was in for it all.

“Holy shit!”

Bucky had a wicked grin as his tongue glided along your folds, not holding back with the way his tongue explored you as per your request.

Steve cooed, “Look at her cute little button…so puffy and sensitive, isn’t it?” He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb, making your whole body twitch in pleasure. Bucky hummed against you in response just then, not leaving his lips from your quivering heat.

He managed to mutter something in the lines of ‘tastes so good, doll’ while his tongue found the source of your wetness, lapping up every drop of pussy juice that threatened to leave for the mattress beneath you.

“I can’t - I don’t wanna cum before I have a dick inside of me..” you whined, and the men stopped as they grinned, looking at each other.

“Who’s dick do you want in you first, doll?” Steve then asked teasingly while stroking your cheek.

“…I don’t know…” you answered, suddenly pondering. “Do I really have to choose?…”

“Well you can’t have us both at the same time…you’re not ready for that.” Steve spoke, humored.

Bucky held his gaze at Steve, “I think…it’s best if you take her first, Stevie. You have better control than I do and I wouldn’t want to ruin the mood or hurt you, Y/N.” He then turns to look at you for a brief moment.

Your face falls at Bucky’s words and you’re about to open your mouth to speak but Steve beats you to it. “You couldn’t hurt her, Buck…but if you feel doubtful of yourself, I’ll take it into my own hands for now until you feel more sure. Does that sound good, doll?” Steve asks as he looks at you too.

You nod, agreeing to the solution as Bucky encourages it with a soft expression. “Sounds good.”

Steve sucks in his breath as he pushes his tip through your folds, holding your hips graciously with you on your back. “Gonna give it to you long and hard…you’ll never want for anything other than us, doll.”

A whimper escaped your lips as Steve impales you. “S-So big…you might split me in half..”

He chuckled at the underlying compliment and strokes your cheek gently. “I won’t move until you say so, love…take your time in getting used to my size, okay?” He says and strokes your clit gently.

You groan and nod in response, “mhm, just give me a minute…”

“We’ve got all the time in the world…” Bucky reassures as he gets behind Steve and caresses his body.

You groan at the sight, “Apart from the love between you two which I adore, - you look so hot together.”

“Yeah? You have always enjoyed watching us being intimate haven’t you?” Steve teased as he leans back a little more against Bucky. “Since the very beginning, we could smell it on you…”

Your face turned red as you realized, shit, of course they could tell when you were aroused. They are enhanced in everything to smell such things…

Bucky interrupted your overthinking with his chuckle, “don’t let it embarrass you, doll…your bodily reactions only ensured you felt the same…thanks to your honest body, we’re here together at all.”

“Now, while we wait for you to get ready, how about we give you a show?” Steve suggested with a seductive grin. You nodded feverishly as Steve turned his head behind to give Bucky a loving kiss, with Bucky’s hands wandering around Steve’s pecs and stomach. Steve then sneaked his hand below and stroke Bucky’s cock as Bucky stared down at you, mesmerized.

“Fuuck, seeing you buried inside Y/N makes me so fuckin’ horny…” at Bucky’s confession, you blush profusely.

“Yeah? Well, if you’re so needy and desperate, you know what you could do about it.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered down to Steve’s ass. “Oh, don’t I know it…” He reached for the lube on the nightstand and inserted some into Steve’s puckered hole with his metal finger, making Steve grunt with arousal. Bucky positioned himself, towering over Steve’s back.

“Just shove yourself in already…you know I can take-!” Steve’s sentence is cut out from a sharp hiss as Bucky slides home.

You witness before your very eyes as Steve closes his eyes tightly, a high pitched moan getting choked as he grits his teeth. His long drawn ‘fuuuuck~’ is the confirming evidence you gather that he’s feeling absolutely amazing.

You can’t help yourself and cover your mouth to hide how turned on you are by this very scenery. Your attempts are due to fail as you feel your core growing wetter and tighter. “…I’m…”

“Fuck, you’re hugging my cock even tighter than before…” Steve purred as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Mmh, does it turn you on to see me between you like this? - Shit…” Steve cursed as Bucky got himself fully seethed inside of him. Steve’s once self assured look was growing twitchy and fading into one of a bottom.

Steve’s cock pulsed inside of you, making you mewl, “Y-Yes! It’s so hot and - god, I need you to start moving, Steve. I’m so ready to be fucked…”

“You hear that? Our girl wants to have her sweet pussy fucked…let’s fulfill her needs, shall we?” Steve nodded and Bucky started to move, causing Steve’s hips to move with him, creating a thrust.

You bit back a loud moan, your breath growing shallow as Steve’s length drags through your tight channel.

Bucky smirked as he looked over Steve’s shoulder, his eyebrows knitted in pleasure, “damn, Stevie…look at what you’re doing to her…”

Steve moaned as he didn’t take his eyes off of you, seeing the way your face scrunches in pleasure for each thrust. “…don’t hold back any noises, love. We want to hear all of it…”

You nod and let a whimper escape you. Bucky starts to move faster just then, encouraging Steve to go along the rhythm as they stay connected. While Bucky leaves rough grunting noises, Steve and you left ones of whines and moans of various pitches.

The pleasure of being deep inside of you while having his prostate hit was overwhelming for Steve, “oh my…” is all he can mutter out as moans take over his speech.

“Steve…aahh!~” you moan as you feel Steve’s cock nudging against the deepest parts inside of you, and you become flushed from overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Please, cum inside, Steve…I’m on the pill, it’s fine…mmmh~ need it…”

“A-Alright whatever you want, doll…- fuuuck!” Steve aches his back behind as he becomes overdriven, feeling his male lover’s cock continuously hitting his prostate which makes him all the more weak.

Bucky can only snicker from pride as he picks up the pace. “Found your sweet spot, huh? I always do…”

Steve could only groan in response as the sex gets more intense. He feels an overwhelming pleasure being between his two lovers, one piercing inside of him while he’s deep inside the other.

It feels absolutely ecstatic.

“Gonna dump my cum inside you any moment, Stevie…” Bucky suddenly announces while he grunts and pounds relentlessly into Steve’s ass until he reaches his climax through a loud gasp.

You gasp, “Oh shit, I’m going to…”

Steve whines just then, feeling you become close too as he shouts, “C-cumming!..” while biting his lip.

Steve spills deeply into you, coating your walls in hot sticky cum while Bucky does the same inside of him. It’s all too much for the three of you as you go through your highs, remaining still as you catch your breaths from your first round of mutual orgasms.

Bucky pulled out of Steve, making him whimper as his cock slips out of your oozing pussy, exposing what he had left behind. Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve’s shoulder, watching down on you at your post orgasmic expression. He chuckled when he caught your playful smirk, and he pulls up Steve with him to sit up before parting Steve’s legs a little.

“Look at that…” Bucky pointed out as he spread Steve’s ass cheeks, showing the sticky mess he had left behind. Bucky took notice of the way you licked your lips at the sight, and immediately suggested in his husky voice, “Would you like to clean him up? I’ll clean Stevie’s mess on you in the meantime…”

Steve turned around as he understood what Bucky was proposing and blushed, “You don’t need to do that, doll…it’s probably new to you and -!”

You shake your head, "No, I want to do it. Bring America’s ass over to me.” you interrupted, determination showing through your features as your lips form a smirk.

Steve blushes even more furiously at your confidence, not expecting to hear that at all. “Oh…well, since you’re offering and only if you want to…”

Bucky snorts as he nudges at Steve with his shoulder, “You’re catching Stevie off guard and it’s making him all flustered…been a while since I’ve seen him this red.” He comments, snickering as he pulls your lower body over to him and licks up Steve’s and yours mess between your legs, making you groan.

Steve simply huffs, and Bucky adds an order, “Get in front of her face, Steve. Our naughty girl said she wants a taste, so let her have it…” while he spread your thighs wide apart, his mouth eagerly meeting your pussy again and sucking out the cum dripping out of your cunt.

You moan from the pleasure Bucky provides you, but you stay composed to take care of the other big man beside you.

Steve helps you gain easy access as he spreads his ass cheeks apart, anticipation written all over his face as you inch closer to his hole, your nose nudging against his balls in the process while your tongue makes its way. He groans when he feels you licking around his rim where Bucky’s cum is dripping out, and he shivers when you hum against his sensitive skin from savoring the taste.

“Ahh…that’s it…” Steve speaks through a low rumble and he spreads his legs wider as you get closer to him. “Oohh, I’m so in love with you…”

You snicker as you tease him with your tongue techniques, but as you feel Bucky forcing his own wet muscle inside of you, you begin to crumble yourself. “J-James…”

Bucky coos at your whine, assuming you’re feeling overwhelmed. “It’s okay, sweetheart…m’just cleaning your insides, that’s all…won’t leave ya overstimulated…”

“N-No, that’s not it…” you whine once more while shaking your head, “I want you inside of me.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he feels his cock harden by this very plead, but he still restrains himself, “Are you sure? Doll, you just had Steve and he’s no bigger than me…besides, I’m not sure I’d be able to hold back…”

“I don’t care.” You say, biting your lip at how needy you make yourself sound, but you’re desperate. “I need your cock…please, I need you to fuck me before we call it a night.”

Bucky glances at Steve who has a growing smirk on his face, “I think you should give our doll what she wants, Buck. You don’t want to deny her when she’s begging so nicely, do you?”

Bucky hums in thought before he shakes his head, “no…I don’t.” He rises up above you as he strokes his shaft, his cock pulsing with anticipation. “Turn around, sweetheart. I’m taking you doggy style.”

You grin seductively and do as he says, raising your ass up. A moan leaves your lips as you feel Bucky’s cool metal arm wrap around you while he uses his other hand to guide his cock to your heat.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long, doll…I’m going to savor every moment of taking this cunt…”

You mewl as Bucky takes a hold of your hips almost possessively while he guides for your bodies to meet. His tip intrudes against your entrance as he pushes forward, and before you know it, his whole length seeps in, making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve kneels in front of you as he takes in Bucky picking up a rhythm, his thrusts quickly going from gentle to desperate. He then turns his gaze at you and notices you’re looking up at him directly, as if you’re pleading for something. Steve caresses your chin with a smirk growing on his face, and he gives you what you want as he inches himself closer, his cock stiffening again when your lips meets it.

The room becomes filled with filthy moans, grunts and curses for the next moments as they engage in the spitroast.

“O-One thing for sure…I’m never gonna be needing that pussy pocket ever again.” Bucky breaks the silence from behind you as he stutters his hips desperately into you. You moan as it dawns over you what he was implying. They had fantasized about you before.

“Yeah, we won’t have to…you’re such a good girl for taking care of us…so, so proud of you…” Steve murmurs his praises as he takes in the sight of you sucking his balls before licking your way up to his tip again where you continue sucking him off.

Bucky clenches his teeth as he realizes he’s far too gone to hold it any longer, and he announces through a weakened whisper, “I’m about to bust…”

“Right behind you…want to be fed with my cum, doll?” Steve asks, his breath now shortening.

Your head bobs, giving an eager ‘yes’ as you swallow him inside your mouth some more. Steve guides you to take more of his cock down your throat, his hips bucking forward with neediness while he reaches his own climax.

Bucky fills you to the brim with a final thrust, emptying himself as he throws his head back. “Ah fuck!!” The senation Bucky provides makes your orgasm crash over you, having you quivering underneath him.

You roll your eyes to the back of your head as Steve’s cum spurts down your throat, what feels like buckets. You pull your mouth off of him and gasp for air as you swipe your tongue around your lips, gathering any drop that managed to escape. Steve leans down onto the bed to cool down, his cock finally softening after what felt like hours of sex.

Bucky brings you carefully with him to lie down too, his cock slipping out of your pussy as he softens, allowing his cum to escape and drip down between your legs.

As you catch your breath, you can’t help but laugh a little, making the super soldiers perk down at you curiously.

“You guys cum a lot…and it’s what, your third orgasm? How is that even possible? Never met guys who can do that.” You share as you chuckle, amused.

“We’re enhanced, sweetheart…we’re supposed to be above average in several aspects. That includes going for several rounds without tapping out.” Steve explains as he sends a wink your way.

You giggle at that while they bring you closer between them, nuzzling against you as you go into a session of aftercare.

“This has to be the best sex I’ve had in a long time…” you sigh with satisfaction, “I don’t think I could ever get enough of this…” the men simply hum, agreeing with your thought.

“Trust me, there’ll be more of where that came from….plenty of it, every day if it’s what you desire.” Bucky speaks in a teasing tone as he steals a kiss from you, holding his gaze at you ever so lovingly.

Steve hums in agreement as he adds, “or, even if you would only want it once in a while, we will to our best abilities make you crave more and more each time we do it…” he leans in to take a passionate kiss from you too, not being able to help himself from joining the soft intimacy.

You express fondness by your smile alone as you look in between them, and when Bucky and Steve reach for each other above you for a final sweet kiss, you’re settled in for a good night sleep, the three of you feeling so closely connected like never before.

N/A: This turned out incredibly filthy…so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 🤭

Hearts + Reblogs are incredibly appreciated! <3

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #stucky #stucky smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader

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bigfatbimbo · 4 months

Text

And I saw sparks —

1.2k Words,, Lucifer x reader

a/n — So this was actually a request at some point but it was literally lost to the tumblr void. I cannot find it for the life of me but it had to do with brushing Lucifer’s feathers so here we are.

summary — Date night for the reader and Lucifer quickly turns into a bonding session where the reader grooms Lucifer’s unkept and touch starved wings.

warnings — Fluff, gn reader, obnoxious flirting, getting together (officially), Lucifer being touch starved and sad.

Lucifer groaned as he tried uselessly to comb the feathers on his far back. He didn’t know if he had enough time to finish pruning when he started, and now, barely a third done, he was sure he didn’t.

His third date with you was in ten minutes. In ten minutes you would show up at his door and expect a fully prepared, well put together, king of hell to sweep you off your feet.

How could he do that when he couldn’t even brush his own damn feathers? What are you going to think when you see him? Maybe, he thought, you’d simply scoff and leave him totally alone with poorly groomed wings.

How pathetic would that be? He grumbled to himself, dreading the last few moments he had to prepare. What was it now, six minutes? If he’s lucky, eight.

Lucifer was so wrapped up in these pessimistic thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind him as he scrambled and whined over his knotted feathers.

“Lucifer, you okay over there?” You asked from the door way.

He jumped back, brush getting caught up in the fluff of his wings and yanking two feathers out, making him let out a yelp and fall over.

“Jesus christ, Luci—“ you laugh going over to help him up.

A blush spread across his cheeks. “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon,” he explained brushing himself off, “Wait how did you—“

“You left the door open and I heard very loud groaning so—“ You gesture to him, “—I thought i’d figure out where it was coming from. Oh, and you being demon royalty and all, I don’t think you should just leave your door open like that.”

He could tell you were joking and he was overjoyed that your attention hadn’t fallen to his exposed wings yet, so he played along.

“Actually, i’d argue that’s the very reason I can leave the door open,” he puffed his chest in his attempt to gloat his power.

This backfired when your gaze drifted to his roughly unkept feathers. Embarrased, he drew back.

“Uh, I was just finishing brushing them. They’ll be going away now, bye bye feathers,” he awkwardly laughed and rambled as he turned around him to hide his wings.

“Wait, if you’re trying to groom them then,” your hands hovered over the wings before retrieving the brush from the table, “I can help with that. I had a friend way back when who—“

“Nononono,” he chirped, scooting back slightly, “I’m supposed to be taking you out and— and I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Lucifer, it’s seriously no trouble. Shit, if anything it’s fun. Let me see,” you gently sit him down and take a seat on the floor behind him.

Your hands find his feathers and begin combing through the unkept bits Lucifer couldn’t reach himself.

He tried with all of his might to stop his wings from flapping about. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel incredibly soothing having someone else care for his sensitive wings.

“Oh god,” he sighs, letting his head fall back slightly as you work your way through his feathers. He collected himself seconds later, not wanting to seem weird, “Sorry, it’s just been a while since anyone’s…”

He trailed off so you took pity and finished the sentence for him, “No, it’s okay. It’s cute how flustered you get over shit like this, anyways.”

Your teasing smile makes his shoulders tighten and his head snap back in your direction, “I am not flustered,” he corrected, cheeks reddening, “maybe just discombobulated.”

“Uh huh,” you grin, “Of course, your highness. Are you too good for a little flirting, now?”

“Oh, Lucifer Morningstar is never not ready for a little flirting,” he smirked, trying to hold himself together under your gentle touch.

“Oh yeah? Hit me with your best line.”

“I—“ He struggled, “Uhm. Okay, well maybe I’m a little rusty.”

You rake your fingers through his feathers once more, softening them to the touch, “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that the king of hell had game.”

“I do ‘have game,’ excuse you,” he did air quotes with his hands, “You just put me on the spot. It doesn’t help what you’re doing with my wings, either.”

His snobbish royalty tone was alarmingly present and he had his arms crossed as he pouted.

It’s true, usually, Lucifer was quite the flirt. If there’s one thing he knew about himself is that he was a hit with the ladies, in his experience, at least.

But maybe it’s because you’re the first person he’s been on a date with since Lilith. Or maybe it’s the way you’re softly raking your fingers through his knotted feathers. Either way, it was making his brain feel fuzzy.

“I’ll believe when I see it, Luci,” you laugh to yourself.

“Oh, i’ll get you good when I catch you off guard, believe me.” Lucifer bragged.

After a moment, the laughter died down as you focused on your work. Every now and then you drew long content sighs from Lucifer.

Although you seemed happy enough with the silence, Lucifer squirmed uneasily. He felt guilt build up in his stomach.

“So this is some date, huh? Curtesy of the King of Hell, you’re welcome,” he said glumly, picking at a scratch in his marble floor, “Sorry I couldn’t have made this more enjoyable.”

You caught him off guard with a deep, warm-hearted laugh. The kind that made him else feel like he’s missed a totally obvious joke or reference.

“What’s so funny?” Lucifer asked, clearly perplexed by your response.

“Luci, we’re in literal hell. Compared to everyone else in shit-hole, you’re one of the better people I’ve dated.” You smiled, freshening up a few feathers, “There, done. Good as new.”

Lucifer grabbed a mirror from off the table and examined your work before realizing what was just said.

“Dating?” his spirits rise, hands coming up to his chest before turning to you, “Are we dating?”

The surprise on your face makes him smile cockily. “Catch you off guard, with that one?” he brags.

“In your dreams,” you recover quickly, “And, yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” You look at his expectant face, he grinned brightly.

“Well, you heard it yourself, pretty boy. It seems like we’re dating now,” you laugh and caress his cheek with your thumb.

Completely dumbly, he giggles and leans in your touch.

“Wow,” he simply says. He rests against your hand for a while longer before you pull him in for a kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet while it lasts, and when you break apart, you pepper kisses on his cheeks and nose.

“Stop it, stop!” he laughs as you come to another finish on his lips. “So, uh, do you still want me to take you out?”

“Actually, where’s your tv in this place? Let’s watch a movie, instead.”

And so you do, cuddled up on the couch together with Lucifer’s newly groomed wings draped over you both.

He nuzzled into your chest, desperate for human contact after being alone for so long. And oh, he was especially glad he was getting it from you.

a/n — Was listening to sparks by coldplay ON REPEAT while writing this, so that’s why the title is like that <3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #luc

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caxde · 3 months

Text

yellow | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, you used to go out with Steve, but the distance broke you off, you're back in Hopkins, for good, and destiny makes you bump into eachother. (3.9k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes! to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

“Since when do you own this?” Dustin asked as he pulled a yellow crewneck out of one of the boxes.

“Oh, uh…” You hadn’t seen it in a while. It fell on your hands as Dustin gave it to you, the softness of the fabric still holds a reminder of his cologne. “It’s not mine, it’s Steve’s.”

He grew quiet for a second, looking at you intensely. They were still friends, Steve had seen him grow up, and was close to him, almost like a brother, and when you broke things off, you begged him to not leave him. He kept his promise, he always did.

“Sorry.” He muttered, an apologetic look stayed on his face even when he stopped looking at you, you shook your head. He didn’t need to apologise, not to you anyway.

“How is he?” The curiosity always took the best of you, and you had left quite some time ago, not really thinking about him. Running away so you wouldn’t have to think about a broken heart.

“I haven’t told him that you came back home.” Your little brother blurted out, with a grin on his face, letting you know he is really glad that you’re actually back, his way of telling you he’d missed you. “He’s doing good. He’s working, and he went back to studying… He’s happy.” He smiled back at you, seeing how your face was no longer expressing grief or melancholy, but a pleasant smile.

You were unsure of a lot of things, but one thing that you were certain of, he deserves all of the happiness in the world.

“That’s nice to know.” Your attention went back to the sweater. The coldness of the night he left it to you seemed to reach your fingertips, and the warmth of the memory reached your gut, butterflies that you thought dead flew for a second. “You should give it back to him.” You added, lifting your head up to look at him.

“You sure?” Even if he was the youngest, he always treated you in such a delicate manner, it made you softer, you had missed him.

“Yeah, it’s been long enough.” You chuckled as you said it, and he nodded along. You hadn’t been home in years, hadn’t seen him in two of those.

“I’m meeting him in a bit, I can give it to him then.” You nod, and he mouths a soft okey before leaving the room.

You had a moment, for the first time since you had arrived back home, where you were alone. No music, no noise, no one else with you.

You left so you could go to college, that was your excuse. Then he broke up with you, the distance only exposed other problems, in both of you. When you did break up, he told you that he still loved you, but it wasn’t enough.

The echo of his words still with you, it isn’t enough, am i not enough?

The sweetness of his voice shocked with his broken tone, tears fell from his eyes when he said goodbye. That was the last weekend you came down, and you had been avoiding coming back ever since.

The walls of your room were empty, the new coat of paint now dry, half full boxes of clothes and shoes and memorabilia were scattered around the floor, the bed half done, the cover still having to be put. It seemed like a new beginning, a new chance for yourself.

Not a lot of people knew you were back. Dustin knew, of course. It had been funny seeing him finally drive, his hands still a bit insecure behind the wheel, but he looked so happy being able to pick his sister from the airport, it had made you beam with happiness when you saw him.

And you had called Eddie as soon as you woke up today. He was ecstatic, begging you to come to a party tonight, telling you that he’d come pick you up as soon as his shift at the garage was done. You knew he’d missed you, even if he’d come often to the city, and vent over everything he had going on. Avoiding to bring him up, even if you did.

So you laid down on your floor, staring at the same ceiling you did as you grew up in that same house.

Before you were aware of what you were doing, or why, a pen rested on your hand, scribbling down on a piece of paper.

Hey, I’m sorry it took this long to give it back, guess I wasn’t ready to let you go. Maybe I’ll never be. I hope you’re happy, and that you have everything you deserve. I’m also sorry if it stinks of me, it has been with me for a while now. Bye.

PS. Don’t be a stranger. I’m here if you need me.

You signed it, and folded it one too many times before dropping it inside the little bag that had his sweater in it, the green clashing with the yellow fabric.

Dustin grabbed it before he left, you smiled when you heard that his car sounded the same.

Loud music, sweaty people and colorful lights.

Your drink was empty, it had been for a while.

Eddie smiled while he danced and took a sip of his drink, happy that you’re finally back, his head swinging back and forth. His attention was split, between you and an unknown blonde girl that was on the bar. You smiled when you caught her staring.

“You’ve got a fan Edds.” You chuckled as you teased him. Raising your voice so he could hear you.

“Who?”

“The blonde”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He laughed, his shyness coming in as it always did when the attention was on him.

“I think it will if you actually go talk to her… buy her a drink?” You shake your head in her direction, he knows you’re actually telling him it’s okay, you can go, i’m okay.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to the other bar and get a drink, wait for you there.” He nodded, and you smiled as you saw him blush.

He looked back at her, he rubbed his chin in a nervous manner, before actually walking over to her. You laughed at him, smiling deeply seeing your friend acting the same he always had.

As you shook your head to yourself, stifling another laugh you left him on his own, Eddie flirted better when you weren’t around anyway. You started walking to the other bar area, the only problem, you had to find your way through the dance floor before you could reach it. You looked at the people there, all of them dancing mindlessly, some couples that had been formed, kissing or dancing together -it always made you smile, seeing people loving each other, publicly, without fear- and some doing what you were doing, looking around while downing their drink.

You were halfway through, when you saw him.

Everything else became fuzzy, the only clear image in your vision was him, wearing the yellow sweater.

Steve saw you too.

And time seemed to stop for a moment, and before it started again, there was a few seconds of slow motion. His hair flicking to the beat of the music, as his lips curved upwards at the sight of you, his eyes softening. He’d missed seeing you. He looks the same he did. You thought, though taller, broader, happier.

Before you knew it, you were face to face.

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at each other. Years of not seeing him, of avoiding him, it all didn’t matter now. His smile had the same effect on you as it always had, melting you on the spot. He broke the distance, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close for a hug, your arms laying behind his neck, your fingers stroking his hair.

I miss you.

“Hi.” Steve whispered into your ear. An excited but yet calm tone could be heard in his tone.

“Hi.” You whispered back, holding on to him for a second longer before pulling back.

“Dustin told me you came back.” He raised his voice now that your head was no longer close to him. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I can tell.” You joked, as you grabbed his sweater, and you saw him chuckle in response.

“D’you wanna go out? And talk?” He pointed at where the exit was. Of course you wanted to, you almost felt like you needed to. Hear his voice for once, not just remember it.

As soon as you nodded, he started to head out, grabbing your hand as he passed in front of you. The same tingling feeling comes back to you, as if it was the first time you went on a date with him. The excited nervousness, the hopefulness, the wishing.

Cold air hitted your chest, even if it was an unseasonably warm night, you blamed the alcohol because anything else would be too confusing, and you were really trying to not get too much into your head. Not now, when he was standing against the wall and his pretty brown eyes were fixed deep into yours.

“So, how have you been?” He broke the silence, and the moment of admiration between the both of you.

“Good.” You smile shyly to yourself. “I’ve been good.”

“How did the big city treat you?”

“Chicago is… Interesting.” You chuckled, as you scratched your forehead. He knew that was your anxious tick, the way you had when you had too many thoughts swimming around inside your mind. “Uh… You’d hate deep dish pizza.”

He laughed, and the little butterfly hidden in your stomach came alive again. Warmness and goosebumps on your skin.

“I did hate it.” He recalls, looking up for a moment, the street lights shining on him. He looks like a statue, you thought, unaware of how pretty he is.

“When did you try it?”

“I was waiting for one of your classes to end, got hungry and saw a little place that was selling them, disgusting.” He shook his head in a funny manner, it made you giggle, so he did it again, wanting to hear you again.

“I ended up liking it, y’know.”

“Of course you did.” He teased, a finger poking your cheek, your face leaning into his touch.

“You get used to it.” You shrugged, your hand reaching for your purse, searching for the pack of Marlboros you knew you had.

“You’re good at that.” He grinned as his eyes became softer, he couldn’t stop looking you up and down. “You’re good at everything.”

“‘M not.” You laughed as you took a cigarette out, placing it between your lips. “I still can’t cook as good as you can.”

“You miss my cooking?” He raised his eyebrows as he asked, a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I dream about those meatballs you made.” You confessed, trying to hide your truthfulness with a giggle, that he saw through. His head tilted back for a moment, as his Adam's apple moved as he sifted a laugh.

“D’you remember when I tried to teach you how to make Napolitanian pizza from scratch?” You started to laugh at the memory, failing to light your cigarette, hiding your face on the palm of your hand.

His heart started to beat again, louder, stronger, faster. If you weren’t too busy trying to quiet yours down, you’d hear it.

“God… I ended up covered in flour.”

“Your hair was all white.” His tone softented, as did his eyes. His body seemed to be closer to yours, itching for contact. “I missed that laugh.” He finally confessed, even if the thought had been on his mind since he first heard it that night.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

It happened then. The wave of nervousness, relieved in an instance.

He missed me. Hemissed me. Hemissedme.

The excitement that came with it, the realisation that what you felt in some way was reciprocated. And that the complicated feelings were felt by the both of you.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hope, your eyes shining bright at him.

“Yeah.” He was blushing now, as he smiled. A wide upside down grin that made your stomach flutter. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.”

How could you not? He has been the best person that has ever stood by you. Even if things had ended, you could only remember the good times, the fun times, the soft ones. How loved he made you feel every single day. How wanted. How cared for.

“When we broke things off…” You started to rumble, as smoke escaped through your lips, finally having ignited the cig. “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I know.” He muttered, his tone letting it known that he had a knot in his throat. “I still loved you.”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his, a needed familiar contact came back. “I needed to be okay.”

“Are you?” You knew he was worried about your answer, in a weird way, Steve never had stopped caring about you. And neither had you.

“I am.” You nodded, the curve your lips made made him know that you couldn’t be lying. “I don’t have panic attacks every night, I’m fine being on my own. Honestly.”

“I believe you.” His hand squeezed yours, the soft touch telling you he trusted you, implicitly. You felt yourself falling back into him. “And I’m proud of you, really.”

“I’m proud of you too.” You finally took a step closer to him, your legs touching and a love sick grin on both of your faces. “Dustin told me you’re studying.”

“Yeah well… I finally decided, I guess…”

Even if your attention was on nothing else but him, when the doors opened and people started to come back to the street, smelling of alcohol, smoke and sweat. A chattering invaded the quiet street, and your focus changed.

“Shit.” Your eyes were scanning the multitude, trying to find Eddie, or the blonde girl, or any of her friends.

“What?” Steve’s eyebrow furrowed again, not really knowing why the swarm of people had made your demeanor change. Your hand letting his go, your body taking a step back.

“I came with Edds… Do you see him?”

“Oh, you’re with him?” You scoffed at the question, rolling your eyes lightheartedly, as you shook your head no. Steve nodded as the smallest grin appeared. A relief appeared in his face, and you chuckled at his question and reaction.

“He’s a friend.” You still were trying to find him, people kept passing you by, taller, shorter and drunker. “D’you see him?”

“No.”

Steve left his hand on your shoulder, asking for your attention, knowing that you were getting into your head, and you were worrying too much too soon. And he also knew that once you felt his touch, your shoulders would relax and drop. Your mind stopped spinning.

“D’you remember where he parked?” As soon as he speaks you feel grounded. You nodded, and he replicated the movement. “We’ll wait for him there then, come on.”

You started walking, comfortable silence was one of your favourite things. Just knowing that he was there made you feel better, glancing at him from time to time, catching him staring at you everytime you did so. Making your lips curve everytime you catch him.

The van wasn’t there.

“Fuck.”

“He left?” His tone was a bit agressive now, not at you, if anything he just was protective, so in consequence he seemed pissed that he had left you stranded. Alone.

“I’m guessing he got lucky with the blonde.” You chuckled out of nervousness. Your hand playing with your hair, placing a strand of it behind your ear, trying to look everywhere but him. “S’fine, I’ll just call a taxi and wake Dustin up.”

“Shut up.” He scoffed, his arms crossing in front of his chest, looking down at you, a look of decision in his eyes. There was no way you were going home alone. “I’ll drive you, c’mon.”

“I don’t have my keys.” You mumbled. “Dustin has mine. I was supposed to sleep over.”

“Then you’ll sleep over. Let’s go.” His hand reached out, an invitation you weren’t sure you should take, but do anyway.

The car ride had been filled by music, and soft touches. Loving stares, and nervous chuckles.

It really did feel like old times.

It didn’t help that his house smelled the same, and time seemed to not move in the Harrington household.

The only difference was the most noticeable of them all. All of the family pictures had been put down.

“You changed it up.” You whispered as soon as you walked in, seeing the bare walls, were paint was darker where frames used to be.

“They don’t live here anymore. So…” You knew he wanted to tell you about it, just as much as you knew he didn’t want to talk about it now, so you just nodded, and he understood what you knew. Words weren’t even necessary.

“Who does?” You changed the topic, slightly, once you saw a jacket that wasn’t his hanged on the wall.

“Robin.” He smiled, his face relaxing and becoming brighter. “Her parents didn’t really get the whole… uh… liking girls things.”

“Right, how is she?” You had wanted to reach out to her, but you weren’t sure if she’d wanted to hear from you, you worried, and Steve’s voice echoed in your head you worry too much.

“She missed you.” He confessed with a smile, starting to climb up the stairs, finding his way to his bedroom, you followed him closely. “We all did, I guess.”

His head hung low for a second, remorse in his voice. Looking back at you for a moment before he turned on his bedroom light, his skin glistened under the moonlight that sneaked through his window. You smiled, seeing him in this light again, with the same background that you had becomed so familiar with once before.

His walls where still the same colour, and bedsheets were still stripped. It smelled and felt the same as it had always done, and for a moment -however brief- you were back in time.

You were eighteen again, and you were sneaking into his room for the first time again.

The orangy bedside table filled the room again, and Steve had his boyish grin that had made you fall in love with him all those years ago. He looked at you, fondly, lovingly, melancholically, as you looked around, noticing the new photos on the wall.

“Most of them are from Jonathan, some of them are your brother’s” You chuckled as you carefully looked at all of them, seeing what he had been up to.

Him working at Family Video with Robin, him with his hands on his hips, apron on and full of flour with a rag over his left shoulder. Him asleep on the back of Eddie’s van.

And your favourite one, Steve laing on your bed, looking straight through the camera, a smile that he was hiding behind his arm still evident by the way his face looks, barely woken up. You took that one, when he came to visit you, before you ended things.

“You looked really beautiful.” You whisper, a tone of sadness could be noted on your voice. But your body relaxed when you felt him stepping closer to yours.

“I don’t anymore?” He halved joked, the same lovesick look all over his face, his hair falling messily now that he had took his sweatshirt, hanging it back to you. A gesture that said you’re always cold before sleeping, you can wear it.

“Thanks.” You mutter before taking it, your body feeling his warmth through that piece of clothing. “You do. You always are.”

He stood there for a second, and you could tell he wanted to say something he didn’t quite have the courage to do so.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed. You scoffed as you shook your head. He knew that you were saying don’t lie, i know you better than anyone. “Think I’m still drunk.”

“Maybe.” You admit with a half laugh, as you feel the weight of the alcohol that you did drink, and how it had swapped for tiredness not that the clock was closer to four. “You still have something in your mind.”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you. His voice was softer, quieter, sweeter. And his eyes couldn’t stop looking at yours. Well, that might have been a lie, he did look at your lips once or twice. His hand reached for yours, nervous that you might pull away. But you never did. You never could. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You squeezed his hand tighter, wanting that gesture to make his frown disappear, but you only see his anxiousness shine for a second.

“I don’t know. Nothing? Everything?”

“You’re not making that much sense, Stevie.” It had slipped out, the old nickname. You felt a bit embarrassed until you saw him smile. A true deep fond smile.

“I know, honey.” His didn’t, he chose to say it. The dopiest grin that made your heart skip a beat came back, while his fingers played with yours. You could feel the warmness of your cheeks staying there. “I just… I meant everything I said, when we were together.”

“What-?”

He interrupted you, too iger to let you know what he had been thinking since he saw you through the club lights and the sea of drunk people.

“I told you, you were the one I love. It hasn’t changed. I’ve tried, believe me. I tried to stop loving you, and move on, and be with someone else, anyone, but they never came close to you. Nobody knows me like you do, nobody can read me like you do, and I don’t think I can love anyone else like I have loved you.”

With every word, with every breath your body came closer to his, excitement and electricity growing with every word that reached your ears, you couldn’t really believe that it was really happening.

And you weren’t conscious about what you were doing before you did. You just knew that your right hand was tangled with his, and that your left one was cupping his cheek, looking fondly at his eyes before closing the distance between your lips.

They were as soft as you remembered. And he still tastes the same as he did.

You enjoyed it, for as long as you could, your heart beating as one, as your breathing synchronized, and his neediness became yours. Your kiss, this gesture, was enough, more than words could even say.

“I haven’t stopped.” Your voice comes out lower, softer, quieter than you intended to. Your forehead pressed to his. Your eyes still closed, enjoying the way your breathing was mixing with his.

“Thank god.” He giggled as he pulled you close once again.

The second kiss was longer than the first one, but it still made your heart flutter, and your skin warming up in familiar desire. His free hand found his way to your waist, holding you closely, afraid that if he opens his eyes you might disappear.

“We can talk about us, tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

You buried his head on his chest, as he pushed you closer to him. A warm hug that you didn’t want to see the end of, a closeness that you’d missed, and that you hoped you didn’t have to miss again.

The promise that tomorrow you’d wake up next to him again, and his warmth wrapping you up under the sheets let you actually rest for once.

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

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freedomfireflies · 6 months

Text

Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe.

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.”

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right.

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed.

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick.

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air.

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand.

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes.

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel.

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration.

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels.

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything.

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door.

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes��it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms.

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head.

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed.

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits.

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.”

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself.

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in.

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second.

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you.

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life.

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen.

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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xxblairexxss · 2 months

Text

Cookies!

Pairing : dad!Jude Bellingham x reader

Them : Angst, I think.

Word count : 2k

Jude had a bad day and it seemed like a cookie wasn’t enough to cheer him up.

I haven’t written in soooo long. Apologize for any mistakes. Might delete this one. I don’t know. Sorry! Should start writing more. 😔

Jude and you were highschool sweethearts. Back when eveyone thought you guys wouldn’t make it because kids in love? Yeah, who would have thought you guys could pull through.

But you did.

There were ups and downs especially at the beginning of his career. Those multiple rumors and gossips came flooding all at once and you went from a normal girl to someone who was known to have a famous boyfriend. They ven called you “the girl who hit the jackpot”.

Some even called you lucky.

A few months after your marriage, Jude and you were blessed with a little girl named Aaralyn. Jude was a perfect father figure to her though to be honest, her arrival wasn’t really align with the immense growth of his career but he managed to balance it all out.

But there were still ups and downs.

The small little hand was flipping through pages of pages from your baking cookbooks whilst her other hand kept on tapping on her chin. Her soft little hums filled through the air.

“Have you make up your mind, honey?” You asked whilst rummaging through the cupboards to take out every baking tools needed.

Jude had been feeling under the weather these days. He tried to hide it from you as he always did but you always catch on it. You knew him very well.

And so did Aaralyn.

Apparently, your little girl was fully aware of it too. Aaralyn woke up this morning and came up with an idea to bake cookies for Jude because it was her favourite and based on her logic, whatever foods that made her happy, should made others happy just as much.

“Mommy, we… bake choco cookies!”

You let out a cackle. “You flipped through the whole book just to decide with a basic one?”

“It’s Alyn’s favourite!” Her small little hands started patting on her chest with a proud expression written all over the face.

“Of course, baby. Can you let mommy see the ingredients, please?” You were about to pull the book closer to your side but your duaghter was quicker.

She snatched the book back with her lips jutting out. “Alyn can read!”

“Okay, read it out loud while mommy gather all of the ingredients, yeah?”

“This one says..powder!” Her little finger pointed to the first ingredient on the list.

“What kind of powder?”

“Co— cocoa powder, mommy! This one..” The little finger then slid to the second ingredient.

••

Your little girl’s eyes widen when the sound of a car came from the garage. There was no other car that could have parked in the garage except for your husband’s.

“Daddy is here! Mommy, daddy’s here! We need to be faster!” She made a hop sound as her dangling little feet touched the ground and scrambled to get her princess plate from the cupboard.

“Use Alyn’s plate!” She lifted her pink coloured plate up high for you to place one of the baked goods.

The sound of the door slammed put your little conversation with Aaralyn to an end. There were no words exchanged as both of you stared at Jude. He threw his bag on the couch, the things inside hit with some of your daughter’s toys.

“Alyn, I told you to clean up your toys, didn’t I?” The tense in Jude’s voice was enough to make his mood known to the rest of the family members.

“Uh-oh, mommy wait!” Your daughter tiptoed to place her plate back on the kitchen counter before scrambling to the living room.

You were looking from afar as she straighten her arm to grab on her little toy whilst Jude was ignoring her existence, eyes solely on his phone.

“Daddy, can help me? Please?” Aaralyn mumbled a little as she patted on her dad’s laps.

“You should clean up your own mess. We talked about this yet you still refuse to learn.” He stood up, picked up the bag which he threw earlier and headed straight to the bedroom, leaving your little girl alone.

You saw she brought her little hands close to her chest, lips pouting as she stood there, completely baffled with what just happened.

“Baby, it’s alright. Mommy will help you.” You picked up your daughter’s toy box and brought it closer to the couch, Aaralyn then made a little noise as she jumped on the couch to gather all of the toys left.

“Daddy might be feeling a little sad today. I’m sorry about what happened, sweetheart.” You cupped on her chubby cheeks to give them a little kiss.

“It’s awright! Daddy will be happy after my cookie!” She squealed.

Your brows lifted, smile widen as she mentioned the main point of the day. “You are right! I forgot about the cookies. Should we bring it to daddy?”

“It’s okay! Alyn will do it.”

You trailed behind as she ran back to the kitchen, boths arms high up in the air to get her plate back.

“Be careful!” As soon as you handed her plate back, she already made her way to the room where Jude went.

“Alyn will come back after I make daddy happy!” Her voice sounded afar as she ran to the hallway.

Aaralyn’s pace stopped in a sudden as she nearly hit the closed door. There came a new problem as she couldn’t knock on the door whilst holding the plate.

“Uh-oh..” The soft little mumble slipped out from her mouth.

“Daddy? It’s me!” The back of her hand hesitantly knocked on the door as she took a step back, waiting for a response.

Jude heaved a sigh, arm propped up to cover his eyes. He wished a second for himself and he got was continous knocking sound greeting his ears.

“Daddy…?”

“Daddy!” She crouched down to carefully put the plate on the floor before bringing both of her fists thumping against the door.

“It’s me, Alyn!”

“What do you want from me?!” The inside of the door banged agaist the wall of the bedroom as Jude opened the door. There was nothing but tense in his voice.

Jude saw his little girl struggling to stand up straight with the plate of cookies right as he brought his gaze on her.

Startled by the sudden loud noise, some of the cookies in the plate fell onto the floor. Most of the perfect sized cookie now turned into little bits and pieces.

“Alyn just— just wanna give daddy a cookie…” Your little girl immediately cut the vexed gaze from Jude, her head hung low and she bit on the inside of her cheeks.

“You are making me suffocated. I need a fucking break and I can’t even do that in my house?!”

“Sorry daddy…” Her words turned into a mumble, lips started trembling.

Jude heaved a sigh when he spotted the cookie crumbles now all scattered on the floor. “Great, another mess. Clean it, Alyn. Now!”

Hearing the voice of your husband gradually got louder and louder, you immediately flipped the main valve. You barely had any time to wipe your hands as you scurried to the bedroom where you saw your little girl crouching on the floor, her little chubby hands quivered as she picked up the mess she did.

“Jude! What was that for?!” Fuming, you pushed him by his chest, tears welled up in your eyes.

“I just need a rest, Y/N,” He rolled his eyes with no hint of guilty.

“You could have just said so instead of cursing to my daughter. She did nothing wrong!”

“She should have just left me alone. No one gives a fuck about a fucking cookie right now! I couldn’t play for 2 months and you didn’t even ask me if I’m doing fine!” Jude responded back, not giving any sign to back down nor to tune down his voice.

“I know you aren’t doing fine. Alyn knows it as well. In fact, she knows it better than me. She planned all this. She planned a movie night, we waited for you to come home only to find out you spent a night at Vini’s without telling us beforehand. Alyn wanted to cook your favourite food. We did and you weren’t able to come home again. She then decided to bake her favourite cookies, thinking it could cheer you up only for you to shout at her face. Is it her fault that you have to rest for two months? That you had to lash it all out on her? Do it to me! Scream in my face, Jude! Do it.” Jude didn’t flinched when your fist repeatedly hit on his chest.

“This isn’t about you, Y/N.” He breathed out.

“So, is it about your daughter? Is that why you lashed out on her?”

Instead of saying anything else, he heaved a sigh and made his way to the bathroom.

You went back to where your little girl was sitting. The tears stain were immediately gone as you quickly wiped of your cheeks before crouching in front of her.

“Come, baby,”

Your little girl pulled her hand back from you and went back to picking up the crimbles. “Daddy— daddy asked Alyn to clean up this mess first or daddy will be mad again…”

Your heart broke when she kept her head low. Aaralyn always loved to make eye contacts, she had always been the mood maker in the house.

“Mommy will clean up the mess. Can you go back to your room, please, baby?”

“Daddy won’t be mad..?” She lifted her eyes and you were greeted a pair of puffy eyes, her cheeks were more round as she jushed her lips forward. She looked exactly like Jude and it broke the dam of your tears.

“Daddy won’t be mad at you anymore. Go back to your room? Mommy will see you once I clean this all up, alright?”

Jude clearly forgot what happened after. He was literally losing the grasp on time as soon as he woke up from his nap. The blanket was pushed aside as he grabbed on his phone. The brightness made him squint his eyes. The picture of you and your little girl greeted his sight.

3:02

Even in the dark, without him having to turn his head aside, he could still feel the bareness. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. Not until he tapped on the other side of the bed.

It was empty. Untouched even.

“Honey?”

His heartbeat gradually turned even faster as every call was left unanswered. You were a light sleeper. Even a slight noise could have woken you up. Soon as he left the master bedroom, his feet bought him to your little girl’s room. The light was left on but there wasn’t any sight of his baby girl too.

“Aaralyn. Honey?”

Jude went uneasy. His skin turned sticky as he broke intol cold sweats. Part of him wished all of this was just a dream. Before he reached the main door, he caught a glimpse of a pink coloured plate on the dining table with some sort of yellow coloured paper by its side along with a box of crayon pencils.

“Daddy’s

— Aarlyn ❤️”

••

You could have brush it off if it was only between you and him but not to your little girl. Aaralyn was clearly upset. Even when you packed her stuffs, she remained seated at the dining table, staring at her remaining cookie.

As you rearranged her folded clothes into the luggage, she came back into her room, looking determined as if she had to get something done. You let her be as she ran back outside as she took out her crayon set with a piece of paper from her notebook.

Unknown to you, she actually wanted to leavr a little message to her very first love.

“There! For daddy!” She mumbled, the crayon in her hand was slipped back into the rest of the set as she left the paper right beside her plate. Her little hand then rearrange the cookie right in the middle. Not before she took a small bite at the corner of it.

“Daddy will like it…” She murmured with a small smile on her face.

“Come, baby. We gotta go.” You called out to your little girl, voice half whispering not to wake Jude up. After all those things that he did, you dtill couldn’t believe he had the audacity to just call it a night.

“Okay, mommy!” Aaralyn hopped off the chair and ran to you as you crouched down to put on her shoes. As she remain still with her little leg on your lap, she sticked her index finger in her mouth, eyes locked at the dining table area.

“What are you looking at, sweetheart?”

“Alyn forgot to keep my crayon…” She answered.

“That’s alright. Just leave it be.” You picked up your luggage bag, your free hand locked on your little girl’s wrist.

“Mommy, where are we going? Aaralyn asked.

“Daddy needed some time alone so it’s just gonna be you and me.”

#football imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fics #football imagines #football fics #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagines

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astralnymphh · 3 months

Text

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

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avis-writeshq · 8 months

Text

03 — labyrinth

summary: “uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?” pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining warnings: drug usage & addiction, talks about relapsing, therapy, tobias hankel, talks about weight (not reader’s), panic attack/night terrors wc: 3.8k a/n: as always, special mention to @astrophileous for beta-reading SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you gently lay a hand on Spencer’s forearm. You offer a soft squeeze of reassurance, your gaze meeting his.

He nods dismissively, averting his eyes but not shrugging your hand away. His tone is cold as he responds, “I’m fine.”

You know better than to believe him. Ever since his kidnapping a few short weeks ago, he’s been acting strangely. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot most of the time, with dark bags beneath them. He’s lost weight, not that he wasn’t already skinny to begin with, but he’s thinner than usual. He gets distracted more easily, he doesn’t spout out about random facts or statistics, and he’s now almost always irritated about something.

He’s been spending more and more time at your apartment, not that you don’t blame him. The two of you would spend your mornings at the dining table, eating half-stale cereal and sipping coffee from the premium machine you splurged on a couple years ago. The closeness is nice, and at times it feels a little too domestic to be platonic, but you’ve learned to control yourself around him.

You open your mouth to say something else (you’re mainly hoping to call him out on his behaviour), but he moves his other hand on top of yours, lightly pressing your fingers. Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks flush at the contact, effectively making you go quiet. He glances at you, his face softening and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the ‘old Reid’ resurface.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, his voice wavering with each syllable. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Even before you were a profiler, you prided in being able to read people well. Spencer is no exception to this; he’s always been easy to read, and his tells are only obvious to the trained eye. In other words, in your long five years of knowing him, you could smell his lies from a mile away. You don’t comment on it, just allowing yourself to bask in the comfort of his touch and the warmth he exudes.

The two of you head off to work minutes later, climbing into your car with you in the driver’s seat. He holds your hand the entire time.

***

Spencer thinks he’s going to throw up. The moment he gets onto the plane, he thinks he’s going to hurl. He locks himself into the bathroom, fumbling with the little vials of clear liquid in his satchel. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret for– he’s always been a bad liar– especially from a team of profilers. He gathers that they probably already know.

His vision blurs and his head grows foggy as soon as he feels the liquid enter his bloodstream. He squeezes his eyes tightly, relishing in the artificial feel of serenity when there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh… Spencer?”

Fuck, he wants to scream as he scrambles to put everything back in his bag. Not you. Anybody but you.

“In– in a minute,” he responds hurriedly, flushed and woozy from his high. He feels nauseous again and he wonders if he should actually just throw up to make the story more believable.

“Um, okay? I was a little worried; you’ve been in there for a while. Did you need anything?” You ask again through the door as quietly as possible, glancing at where the team were sitting. “Water? Tea?”

He swings the door open, and his voice is a lot harsher than he expected it to be. “I’m fine.”

He almost misses the way you step back uncertainly, and the way your fingers twitch at your side. Almost. He knows you don’t believe him. He knows that you know him better than anyone and at times it scares him. He feels like Pandora’s Box and it’s only a matter of time before you release the demons within him. His heart lurches as he watches the way your face falls into confusion and hurt– hurt that he is responsible for.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer now. “Just– just tired.”

He watches as you pause and give him a once over. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your eyes over every inch of him, and for a second he feels incredibly exposed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You say slowly, cautiously, and you reach a hand out to gently graze against his forearm. “I’m here for you.”

The contact is enough to get him to calm down, and his shoulders visibly relax and his eyes close for a moment. He nods, looking at you with a softness he didn’t even know he could muster.

“I know,” he responds, touching his fingers to yours. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you respond with a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You pause for a moment before nodding towards the seats of the plane.

Spencer follows you there, sitting beside you and as he relishes in your warmth and, in your company, he doesn’t feel quite as lost. The nausea begins to dissipate and he suddenly feels a lot lighter– and it’s not because of the drugs. This is different, a better different. A different he could get used to. The pressure from the plane doesn’t seem to affect him as much anymore, and his ears are no longer ringing.

He leans into your touch, his head pressed against your shoulder and his eyes begin to close. He feels your fingers gingerly hold his own, squeezing lightly in an effort to help him relax. It works. It always works. He feels the way your thumb grazes against the back of his hand and he feels both full of air and breathless at the same time.

“You okay?” You ask into his hair, continuing to rub your thumb back and forth against his hand.

He nods, not being able to bring himself to speak. He’s tired, so unbelievably tired, and he thinks that if he speaks he’ll begin to cry. He doesn’t realise that his grip on your hand has tightened.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He hears you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

He only brings himself to nod again, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. Uh oh. He’s falling in love.

***

Spencer knocks on your door at half past two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and feeling as if he was suffocating. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least, he doesn’t right now. He would usually enjoy the feeling of solace, considering that it was unlikely he would be able to experience those moments, but lately it feels as though he is lost inside of his own mind. He misses the moments where his head would swirl with unnecessary statistics, or random animal facts that he knows you adore. Now, the only thing stuck in his mind is the rush of the high– and the plummeting feeling of the low.

He holds a breath as he watches your feet come to a stop at the door before the doorknob jiggles and opens. His eyes hesitantly meet yours and he swallows thickly.

“Can I come in?” He asks, the words barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” comes your response, and you open the door a little wider. “Yeah, Spence, of course.”

He watches as you boil water and prepare two cups of tea– one chamomile and the other peppermint. He sits on the couch, fiddling with his fingers and his eyes darting around nervously.

“Spencer.”

Your voice echoes through the room, and suddenly he feels very grounded. He forces his eyes to meet yours and he feels himself stop breathing. Have you always been this beautiful?

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” you say, setting down the cup of peppermint tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

He laughs humourlessly, sipping at the scalding tea and he grimaces at the burning sensation. “You sound like a therapist.”

“I studied as one,” you counter, dipping your teabag up and down in the cup. “The others… they can’t say anything. But I’m leaving the BAU soon, so I’m technically allowed to ask you this without any federal obligations.”

“I don’t know–” he begins to deny, but stops short at the way you give him a warning look.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you? And you were on the plane.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, but he expects it from the words that leave your lips. Your gaze softens as you continue. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

He flinches and he knows there’s no way out of it. “I tried.”

“I know.”

“I just– I can’t and I want to and I wish that I was… that I was stronger.”

“You are strong.”

He shakes his head. “I should be able to get over this. Get over everything he did to me.”

“Spencer, you were kidnapped and drugged and then you came back to the BAU like nothing even happened.” You pause and lick your bottom lip. “No one is expecting you to get over it, especially not this quickly.”

He doesn’t respond, a strange sense of deja vu filling him at your words and he sits rigid on the couch with his hands in his lap. His eyes don’t leave your face, his gaze shifting from your eyes to the curvature of your nose and then to your lips. For a split second, he wonders how they would feel against his, or how they’d feel against his neck. His head goes heavy at the thought and he pushes them away.

You don’t seem to notice where his eyes have settled, or you’re very good at acting as if he isn’t staring at your face because you continue to speak. “Well,” you say slowly, putting the cup of tea onto the table, “it’s a good thing I’m leaving the BAU then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this job without you,” he confesses, shifting his eyes downcast as he stares into his tea.

You laugh a little, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “You act as if I’m dying or something.”

“I’m serious,” he presses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I want to be happy for you. And I am! But at the same time I feel– I feel so selfish for wanting you to stay.”

He feels you sit beside him and he instinctively leans into your touch, burying his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Spence,” you whisper, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And I’m always going to be there for you. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

He nods deftly into your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume.

“Spencer.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, an arm wrapped around your waist. “I know. I promise.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Good.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, but for once it’s no longer the uncomfortable silence you were tormented with back home. You could feel everything from his hot breath on your neck to the way his fingers squeeze your sides as if you’d disappear if he held you any looser.

“We still need to talk about this whole issue at some point though. You know that, right?” You murmur into his hair.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“… please.”

***

It has been two weeks since you finished up at the BAU and started work at a clinic, working as a children’s therapist. It’s been a good change of pace for you; a lot slower and much more routinely. The hours are a million times better, and you find that you’re able to get home before seven on most days. The amount of free time that’s been handed to you is something to get used to, now that it’s no longer filled with completing paperwork or getting onto a plane.

Despite all the positives, it feels strange not seeing your former team everyday. It feels strange not being able to see Penelope’s brightly coloured outfits, or Derek’s dumb jokes. You missed Emily’s sarcasm and JJ’s stories about Henry, and you missed seeing Hotch’s rare smiles whenever he sees someone in his team succeeding. A lot of the time you find yourself craving Rossi’s famous pastas accompanied with special wine. But most of all, you miss seeing Spencer in his element every single day.

He’s been doing better, or so he says. He’s been going to self-help groups and you’ve been sending him summaries of help books written by former addicts. It seems to have helped because he’s been acting more and more like Spencer Reid than a weird limbo version of him. He still spends a lot of time at your place, sleeping on your couch despite your constant protests. He ends up taking turns with you after you bribed him with multiple chocolate donuts.

Although he insists that he’s been doing better, his constant night terrors say otherwise and more often than not you find him sweating and sobbing in his sleep. Today is no different.

“Spencer,” You whisper, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Spence!”

He jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he almost knocks his forehead with yours. He groans, his fingers flying to his eyes as he rubs them. Fresh tears slip past his closed eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you pull him into your arms.

“You’re okay, I got you,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blade as he sobs.

He keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want it” as he sobs against your shoulder, clutching your shirt in the palms of his hands.

“Breathe in,” you guide gently, running your free hand through his hair, “breathe deep… breathe out…”

He takes in a shaky breath before exhaling through sobs but he continues to follow your guide. He wraps around you tightly, taking deep breaths in before releasing them. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he finally speaks.

“I relapsed yesterday.”

He expects you to push him off and start screaming. He expects you to start yelling at him for not being able to control himself and for wasting all his progress. He reckons he deserves it. But you don’t do any of those things.

“That’s okay,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “Have you talked to Meredith about it?”

Meredith Gray is a therapist you introduced Spencer to. She’s a good friend of yours and specialises in addictions as well as post traumatic stress disorder, and she even wrote her final thesis about it. Even though you work in different fields, the jobs cross over a lot when there’s speculation that a parent could be sick. After explaining the situation to her, Meredith was more than willing to take Spencer as a client.

Spencer shakes his head, the guilt creeping into his chest and lacing his words. “No… I have an appointment with her tomorrow though.”

“Okay, good,” you nod, continuing to rub soothing circles on his back. “Relapsing is normal. It’s just another step to healing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But–”

“It’s normal,” you repeat firmly. “You acknowledged it, and you told me. That’s good, Spence, better than most people.”

He’s quiet, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he speaks again. “Did you know I’m scared of elevators?”

You can’t help but laugh at the change of conversation and you squeeze his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

“Morgan and I got caught in one the other day. On a case,” he muses. “On average, elevators are inspected once or twice a year, but some could go up to three years without inspection. There are approximately ten thousand elevator related injuries per year, and twenty seven deaths.”

“Now I’m never going into an elevator again,” you respond with jest, poking his cheek. “It’s late. Take the bed, Walter.”

He huffs. “It’s your turn.”

“You need it more than me.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“I never said that you are.”

“(Y/N).”

You give him a pointed look. “Spencer.”

He stares at you for a moment, holding your gaze before he swallows and looks away. You watch the way his Adam Apple bobs in his throat and you suddenly feel faint.

“Take the bed, Walter,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Please?”

He says your name again, and he reaches up to rest his fingers against the collar of your pyjamas. Your breath hitches and you can’t help the way your cheeks grow warm and your head starts to spin. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder. You resist the urge to shudder as you relish his skin against yours.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pleading, and his eyes glance from your collar to your eyes.

“You hate sharing beds,” you remind him.

His thumb grazes against your jaw and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was going to kiss you. But you do know better, so you avert your gaze and push the thoughts out of your mind. An indescribable look flickers on his face but it is gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“It’s okay if it’s you,” he says earnestly, and you find yourself agreeing because how could you say ‘no’ to that?

You climb into bed, one leg outside of the covers because everything felt so warm, especially with his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath against your shoulder. The thin line between platonic and romantic love has blurred indefinitely now, and at times like these you feel as if it has disappeared entirely. Guilt creeps into your veins as you feel him bring you closer to him, his nose buried into your shoulder. Is this considered coercing? He’s in the middle of healing, working towards sobriety, and here you are taking advantage of his vulnerability. Well, technically you’re not ‘taking advantage’ of him if he seeks you out first but it still feels inherently wrong. Morally wrong, maybe.

It takes you another thirty minutes to fall asleep, your head rushing with thoughts and questions as you do. He’s gone when you wake up in the morning.

***

“Someone is looking happy,” Derek comments with a teasing grin, slinking an arm around Spencer’s neck.

It has been about a week since the ‘sleep in the same bed’ incident and he was promptly whisked away to a case in Nevada. He felt guilty about the whole ordeal, considering he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time. It still made him feel like a sleazy college student who had a one night stand with some random person and then bolted (even though there was no contact of that sort that night). Despite his initial guilt, his head is spinning with the sheer peace and comfort that he experienced when he was sleeping in the same bed as someone. And that someone was you! He could barely even believe it. It all felt so right and perfect… and the way you would shuffle closer at times… it was enough to get his heart racing (he thinks that it’s terribly cliche and horribly cringe-worthy, but therapy has told him that he needs to ‘embrace’ his gross sappy feelings).

“What? No– I mean yes but–” Spencer coughs in response to Derek’s teasing, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag.

Derek cackles at his fumbling, grinning ear to ear. “Alright, so… is it a girl?”

“What?!” He shrieks, his voice raising by two octaves as he does. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh so there is a girl,” Emily joins in with a smirk.

“There is– there is no girl,” he responds briskly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Derek hums in thought, a mischievous look in his eye. “Did you catch up with Lila again?”

“No!” Spencer bristles at the thought. Ever since he almost destroyed his friendship with you over her, he hasn’t even bothered to give her a call. “I haven’t seen her since her since– since her case.”

“What about that girl you picked up at a bar?” Emily offers with a sly laugh. “What’s her name again?”

“Austin,” Spencer recalls instantly, his cheeks flaring up again as soon as she says her name. “B-but I haven’t spoken to her either!”

JJ rounds the corner, all too happy to join in the fun (much to Spencer’s chagrin). “I bet it’s (Y/N),” she says with a knowing smirk.

Spencer considers his brain to be a well oiled machine of facts and logic. It’s one of the only things he could rely on– and the only thing people seem to respect him for. As of late, his ‘well oiled machine’ hasn’t been functioning as well as he would have liked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not functioning at almost full capacity. But JJ’s comment, no matter how well functioning his brain was, rendered him speechless.

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, JJ,” Derek cackles, clapping Spencer’s shoulder.

He lets out a small grunt at the contact, almost stumbling over his feet before he catches himself. “There is nothing going on between (Y/N) and I. We’re just friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue and he resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure,” Emily says with a short laugh. “Totally believe you. How long did it take for you to realise you’re in love with her?”

JJ snickers along. “Yeah, before or after you had that make out session with Lila?”

Spencer groans at their relentless teasing, covering his face with his hands as they walk along to the bullpen. They’re definitely a lot calmer once they enter their official place of work, but it still doesn’t stop the way they poke fun at him through sly smiles and tasteful words.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Spencer reiterates with a frown. “She knows just how difficult this job is; she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with it again.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to decide that?” Emily asks gently, no more teasing in her tone. She’s always been good at giving advice.

He pauses at that, a frown etched upon his features. His mind rushes with memories; the constant leaving, the torture, the trauma, the drugs… his fingers run through his hair.

“It’s not a good time right now,” he explains softly.

“When will it ever?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze.“I don’t know.”

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full work

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #taylor swift #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader angst

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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give you my wild, give you a child | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x pregnant fem!reader oneshot

summary: your second trimester while pregnant with baby bear is way sexier than you expected.

warnings: smut, breeding kink, language, 18+ only, barely proofread.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi it's me with the second trimester sexapalooza smut i promised @starbritestarlite and @carmensberzattos. and with this new season, let me know if you want to be added to my carmy taglist!! i wrote this as a companion piece to the 'make my heart heart surrender' universe, specifically for the 'carmy as your baby daddy' headcanon/social media au series. anyways, i've been thoroughly enjoying season 2 and am sitting into the fact that i've created my own universe inside of their universe. god we love fanfic. anyways... this is nsfw so 18+ only.

Today 2:21 pm

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: On the way home for lunch.

You: Hurry, baby.

Carmy “my baby daddy” Berzatto: You good, sweet girl?

Your reply is almost instant, and Carmy wonders what could possibly come next as he sees the three dots appear below your message, indicating that you’re still typing.

It’s a link, his eyes widening as soon as it appears in his iMessage history with you.

You: Hottest Sex Positions For Pregnant Women | Cosmopolitan

Before he can notice that it feels ten degrees hotter in the room, that his face has turned cherry red, that his pants are beginning to feel unbearably tighter, he’s interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“You good, chef?” Marcus asks, as he passes by, noticing the red tones that have risen to Carmy’s cheeks.

“Wh-, oh yeah!” Carmy answers, almost too quickly, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

Marcus shoots him a strange look, examining his boss’ face.

“Just uh… gotta go home for lunch.”

3:03 pm

“What took you so long?” you practically growl as soon as Carmy gets through the door.

He hasn’t even had a chance to close it properly before you’re on him like a moth to a flame. Dressed in the cutest pair of white shortalls, you’ve been working from home all day – or rather, mindlessly clicking through your e-mail while waiting for Carmy to come home all day, your mind preoccupied with the fact that Carmy hasn’t been home to give you exactly what you want.

What you need, may be the better description.

It’s as if the spirit of Eros himself has taken you over, unable to focus properly as your rapidly changing body needs is practically screaming out for one thing and one thing only:

To be properly and thoroughly fucked by the man that got you here in the first place.

“I-,” he begins, attempting to explain that he was running a little behind and got caught up giving feedback to one of his new line cooks before your mouth is on his in an all-consuming kiss.

Now that he’s here, you regret even asking him, careless for the why when it feels this good to have him pressed up against your body. Your lips are desperate, hungry, intense, as you tangle yourself into him. It’s as if you can finally relax, like you can finally take a breath, now that your husband is finally here.

He lets out a little groan of surprise against your mouth, as if you’ve charged towards him like the sexual equivalent of a tasmanian devil.

And in his defense, you have.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips. “Should we-, can we even-, shouldn’t you be working?”

He’s not wrong.

You should be working.

But the unbelievable and insatiable need for sex – for sex with Carmy – is the only thing driving you these days, holding you hostage to its unbelievable and all-encompassing power. You’re like a woman possessed as you reluctantly pull away from him to put his mind at ease. Your lust-filled eyes look him over, his curls already wild from a long day at the restaurant, as you shake your head ‘no.’

“I finished all my work for the day and signed off early. Perks of being a start-up sellout,” your well-kissed lips inform him.

Carmy’s head spins in response to your answer.

Maybe it’s the prospect of the sex.

Maybe it’s the way it’s the way your mouth feels against him as you kiss down his jawline and his neck.

“Okay, but I gotta be back at the restaurant at 4:15,” he smiles in agreement, more than happy to oblige.

“That’s plenty of time,” you coo, nibbling on his earlobe.

This time it’s Carmy who initiates, using both of his hands to cradle your face before his mouth is over yours again. The kiss starts slowly this time as he inhales deeply, taking you in. You shift closer, pressing your slightly-rounder-these-days belly against his body once more. He moans, his hands immediately traveling down your body, to your hips as he breathes you in again, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with you forever. His touch ignites something in you and you allow yourself to surrender, lost in the feel of his hands against you. His hands are everywhere – your hips, traveling up your belly, dancing across your fuller-than-normal breasts – and finally the drawn-out unrest of your mind can finally find peace.

He’s starting to get used to this.

And he’ll admit that he really, really likes it.

Carmy changes positions with you so that he can press you up against the front door as you continue your passionate makeout.

Your first trimester had been hell – mornings spent on the bathroom floor together while you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, days where you barely had the energy to get out of bed, nights where you were too hot to sleep that all you could do was lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, frustrated tears pouring out of the corners of your eyes – your body undergoing the hardest reset of your life.

So when the fog and tumultuousness of your first trimester subsided, it was a more than welcomed change – and in so many ways. You’ve traded mornings of flat ginger ale, saltines, and sympathetic back rubs, with mornings spent tugging on Carmy’s perfect curls while you cried out his name.

“You smell like sandwiches,” you giggle in between kisses.

“Ah shit. I should shower,” he sighs, reluctantly.

He knows your sense of smell has been heightened lately, and he can’t imagine that smelling like a spicy Italian sandwich would be much of a turn on for you. He begins to pull away, but there’s now way in hell you’re letting him go as you grab his hands in yours.

"No, Carmy, I can't wait,” you whine, the sound of your voice the most needy, beautiful thing Carmy’s ever heard in his life.

“You could join me,” he offers with a raise of an eyebrow, presenting a solution you can absolutely get behind.

“Uh huh. Yes please,” you nod eagerly, a girlishness to the way you answer him.

Please.

Your usage of the word’s got him harder than a rock and he loves this side of you. Your sex life had been great before the pregnancy, but there’s something different about it now. Something about how needy you’ve been – the only thing that can possibly quell the fire inside of you being him – has him unraveling at the seams.

How could he possibly say no when he’s more than eager to give you exactly (and then some, if it’s up to him) what you want?

Your fingers are still tangled in his, licking your lips as you add, “My baby daddy thinks of everything.”

Carmy shakes his head, tugging at your hands as he leads you towards the bathroom, mentioning that he still can’t get over the fact that you’ve chosen to call him that in front of everyone you’ve ever known. You remind him that it’s cute, and though he’s not sure he gets it, he lets you do it anyway because it makes you happy.

As you both reach the bathroom, you patiently wait as Carmy turns on the shower, running a hand through the stream of water to check the temperature. One minute he’s focused on the cool water coming down from the showerhead, and then next he’s caging you in between his body and the bathroom sink.

“You miss me this much, pretty girl?” he murmurs dreamily, his hand trailing up your inner thigh.

You nod, taking note of how perfectly his top lip fits in between yours.

“Yes, baby. Thanks for coming home for lunch,” you manage to get out, in between desperate kisses.

“No need to thank me,” he smirks, a newly-found confidence in his voice.

His hands are tugging at the hem of your shorts, as if he could slide the overalls down your body this way, a small pang of frustration welling deep in his stomach as he realizes that’s not going to happen. He kisses you with a fervor that makes you dizzy, as Carmy fumbles with the straps of your overalls. Trying his best to unclasp one side, he tosses the strap over your back, a clang sounding out within the four walls of the small room as the metal of the claps hits the porcelain of the sink.

Carmy lets out a groan as he tugs at the second strap, causing you to giggle.

“These stupid things,” he huffs, a look of embarrassment running through his brilliant blues.

“Here, baby,” you say, slipping one of your arms out of the tangled strap.

He groans as soon as his eyes meet yours again, more than happy to help you out of these damn things.

He pulls the overalls down with a rigor that stops right as the overalls drop to your waist, revealing your white tank top – one that you’re not wearing a bra underneath.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hands ghosting over where your nipples stand erect against the fullness of your breasts.

“You been like this all day?” he mutters against your skin, leaning down to drag his mouth over your still-clothed breasts.

“Mmmmhm. Needed you,” you moan, your eyes closing as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you.

He’s so incredibly hard right now it’s not even funny.

“Yeah?”

By the time you open your eyes again, Carmy’s on his knees, so gentle, so tender with the way he slides the rest of the piece of clothing over the bump that’s been growing inside of your belly.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

You shimmy out of your overalls as Carmy jumps back to his feet, removing your tank so that the only thing you have left is the pair of panties you’re still wearing. Before he can kiss you again, you’re tugging off his shirt, a sacrifice, an offering to the bathroom floor.

“Should be warm enough, yeah?” you ask, gesturing towards the shower.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, removing his shorts.

You feel all the blood in your body rush south as you see how hard he is already, swallowing hard. Carmy helps you into the shower, like the gentlemen he is, and you hope that’s where the gentleness ends.

Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you towards him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist as the warm water begins to wash over the both of you.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl,” he hums as his nimble fingers slip between your legs. He groans as soon as he feels how goddamn wet you are.

“Fuck, honey.”

“See? I told you I needed you, Carm,” you pant, letting out a high keening moan as he draws lazy circles around your clit. You’re already bucking your hips into his hand and he’s barely started touching you.

"You're so sensitive. So responsive, sweet girl,” he teases you, as he drags his fingers through your folds. You are so unbelievably wet that he’s not sure how he managed to get so damn lucky.

"I just want you to fuck me, Carm. I’ve needed it all day. I need you to make me feel good," you beg, completely lost in the way his fingers feel as he slides two into you already.

It’s like his touch sets fireworks off in your brain, setting your nerves on fire as you cry out.

"Yeah?” he taunts you, an almost amused tone in his voice as he sets the slowest rhythm. “Think that’s how we got here in the first place, pretty girl.”

"I know,” you whimper, moving your hips against his fingers for any kind of friction. For something more. For something faster. For something deeper. But at this rate, with how much he seems to enjoy teasing you, with how horny you are, you’ll take anything.

“But nothing feels as good as you, Carm.”

Your words go straight to his dick and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to leave you alone ever again – might as well quit his day job in exchange for this all-day never-ending second trimester sexapalooza you both seem to be caught inside of.

He’s practically choking on his words as he manages to ask you:

"What’s that, baby? Did you touch yourself while I was gone?"

You nod pathetically, moaning as he buries his thick fingers deep inside of you. He pauses, feeling the way your walls pulse around him as he stays inside of you, wanting to memorize this moment forever.

In any other circumstance, he’d make you fall apart on his fingers, and then his tongue before you even went there, but with your recent admission, he’s decided that he has to have you now. In one swift motion, Carmy pulls his fingers from you, releasing his grip on your leg, eliciting a whine at the loss of him.

Before you can even protest, he’s turning you around in the shower, and you can feel his hard-on pressing against your backside as he pulls you close.

“Sweetheart, you can’t just say things like this,” he taunts you, playfully, as he drags his cock through your folds a few times.

“Carm,” you whimper, bracing your hands against the shower wall. “Don’t tease.”

“What’s that?” he coos, pressing his thick tip against your clit.

“I don’t think I can take it. Please, baby,” you whine, so desperate for him to be inside of you. You push your ass back against him, offering your body to him for the taking.

“Fuck!” he grunts out, because he just can’t resist you like this.

You let out a sharp cry, as Carmy pushes himself inside of you, finally giving the thing you’ve wanted all day long.

Carmy sets a slow pace at first, burying himself all the way to the hilt, so that you can feel all of him – every single ridge, every single vein of his cock with each thrust – and with how sensitive, how turned on you are, you’re already seeing stars. His hands hold onto your waist, controlling the speed of your lovemaking, as you press your hands against the shower wall, bracing yourself. You want him everywhere, all around you, consuming you with every fiber of his being, as if all you can do is hold yourself up and let him know how good he’s making you feel.

Carmy’s lips are on your neck, leaving love bites across your shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings about how well you take him and how good you feel. And then he’s speeding up the pace of each thrust, pulling you back towards him. His hands are all over you: pressing you back against his chest, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples as he takes care of you.

His wife.

The mother of his child.

The love of his life.

You turn your head just enough so that you can kiss him as Carmy’s hand reaches up to cup your face, making sure that he can kiss you properly too. This time you’re standing up taller, grinding against him, wanting to touch your husband more than you need to hold yourself up against the wall. Your hand slips behind you, grabbing at whatever parts of him that you can, bracing yourself against him, as if you could get Carmy even closer to you, while the other is guiding his across your body, your fingers tangled together.

He’s perfect.

This is perfect.

It’s what you’ve been aching for all damn day.

“I need you, Carm,” you moan into his mouth, as the consistent feel of him thrusting in and out of you has you delirious.

"You have all of me, baby,” he reassures you in the tenderest tone of voice he can muster, his other hand resting just underneath your breasts as he fucks you.

"More."

"More?"

He’s not sure what ‘more’ could mean at this moment, but the dirty talk is so hot that he’s more than willing to find out. He slows down his pace, dragging his cock in and out of you and the most delicious pace.

"Yes,” you pant, pulling away from the searing kiss, your head hanging low. Your hands return to the shower wall as you arch your back, bending at the hips so that you can take him deeper as you add:

“I want to make you a daddy."

His hips stutter for a second, caught off guard by what you’ve just said.

"You-you are, sweetheart,” he chuckles, slowing his pace down for a moment as he watches himself disappear inside of you over and over again.

“Carmy,” you groan, in response to his change pace.

You’re grinding your ass against him, begging him to speed up, but his hands return to your hips, stopping you.

The sight alone, and what you’ve just said, he thinks to himself, might kill him.

You whine as Carmy brings his movements to a halt, trying to get him to fuck you again. But he can’t let what you’ve just said go unrecognized as he stills your hips.

"What was that? You like walking around like this, hmm? Everyone knowing what I've done to you?" he asks you, holding your hips so that you can’t move.

You’ll give him anything to get what you want.

Even if it means saying it again.

“Yes, baby,” you sigh, and Carmy lets out another moan as you squeeze around him.

“I want to make you a daddy. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Oh fuck,” Carmy mutters, knowing he’s not going to last much longer if you keep that up.

He pulls out of you, and before you can protest, he’s slamming back into you in a way that makes you sob. He sets a brilliant pace this time, and you're arching your back, pressing your hands against the wall even harder – and all you can do, all you want to do, is take it. Hearing you chant his name over and over takes over him. He’s a man determined, with a single-minded focus on giving you exactly what you want.

He’s reduced you to a moaning, mumbling mess, as you chase both of your orgasms.

“Touch me, Carmy,” escapes your lips, and he’s more than happy to oblige, his fingers immediately coming to your clit.

He’s so goddamn talented, using his cock and his hands to make you fall apart.

You feel a familiar coil in your belly, and with the way you’re squeezing around him, Carmy can tell your close.

“Come on, sweet girl. Go ahead and let go for me,” his voice sturdy, confident, strong.

And seconds later, your eyes slam shut as you’re crying out his name, falling over the edge as your husband pulls the most delicious orgasm from your body.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.”

He’s right behind you – literally and figuratively – as Carmy’s thrusts become more erratic, finally letting go after exercising an impossible level of self control. He spills inside of you with a grunt, holding you against him as he pauses.

Breathless, you throw your head back, grateful that his shoulder is there to catch you. With the slightest turn of your head, you’re able to kiss him, placing the gentlest kiss against the corner of his mouth before Carmy’s hand comes up to lift your chin towards him again, so that he can kiss you properly.

“Holy shit, Bear,” you sigh, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Yeah,” he pants, trying to catch his breath with you.

You both take a beat, a moment to let your brains catch up with your bodies, just holding onto each other – savoring the way it feels to be in each others’ arms.

“I should uh… I should probably still shower,” Carmy starts, beginning to come back down to earth.

You turn back towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, entertaining him with slow, lazy kisses in between words.

“But why don’t you dry off and get into bed?” Carmy suggests, using a quiet yet direct tone, almost as if it’s an order.

It’s as if he knows that, though the last orgasm he’d just given you had been world-rocking, there’s no way in hell you’ll be satiated today with just one.

“Really?” you ask, hopefully with a giggle.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Heard, chef,” you tease him, eliciting a playful eye roll from him.

He releases you, giving you the time and space to wring out your hair and step out of the shower.

And as you do what he says, he rewards you for it, spending the rest of the afternoon with his face buried between your legs until he’s ready to go again.

“And we’ve got a special tonight. Lemon chicken piccata. We’re talkin’ major Berzatto family recipe, ok? So let’s make sure we’re talkin’ up, alright?” Richie announces, following it up with a reminder to all of his servers of the main talking point during tonight’s pre-shift meeting.

Carmy thinks he’s been stealthy as he attempts to sneak back into the restaurant, considering he’s thirty minutes late. He feels lucky that since everyone is preoccupied with the pre-shift meeting that they couldn’t possibly notice him slipping in this late. He hears the meeting end, making a mental note that tonight’s mise has been done right, praying that tonight’s service goes smoothly.

He has, afterall, been using up a lot of extra energy lately….

“Hey, Jeffrey. We were wondering when you’d be in tonight,” Tina comments, as she returns to the kitchen, ready to lead service tonight.

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry, got caught up with some stuff,” he mumbles, avoiding her gaze as he doesn’t have an excuse or a cover story.

“Mmmhhhmmmm,” she sounds, passing him by, because it’s no secret what Carmen Berzatto’s been up to lately.

“Yo, cousin!” Carmy calls out, in search of Richie.

Carmy makes his way into the dining room, and as soon as Richie sees him, knowing what time it is – knowing that Carmy’s running late – he smirks. A blush runs over Carmy’s cheeks as Richie shakes his head with a laugh.

It’s as if Richie can see right through him, and suddenly, Carmy’s feeling incredibly exposed.

Richie wags a finger at his cousin, his laugh beginning to build.

“Ahhhh man, cousin,” he sighs, an amused look on his face as he continues. “No one warned ya, huh?”

“I-,” Carmy starts, searching for any and all excuses he could make up on the spot, to no avail.

“Men can’t resist a pregnant woman. Sheesh. Enjoy it while you can, jagoff.”

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penelopepine · 1 month

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Don't be a stranger!

Part 1 Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship

Summary:

“Coming! Just one moment!” The voice calls out. Simon is quick to adjust his stance trying to make himself appear less intimidating as he could before the door is suddenly swung open.

That was when he saw you.

Returning to his flat was never easy for Simon; it was always dark, cold, and empty. It was harder to distract himself while he was here than it was back at the base where there was always something that needed to be done.

The one good thing about this place was that the neighbors were generally alright when he was here. No one was ever being especially loud; allowing Simon to silently drown himself in whiskey and sorrow.

Which is why he was confused when the neighbor to the right of him couldn’t seem to stop causing a ruckus. The whole morning has been filled with muffled curses and the sounds of things being dragged about.

He vaguely starts to recall talk of that flat being open soon. This must be the new guy then; from the sounds of it they just moved in within the last few days.

Damn his leave couldn’t have fallen just a week later when they were already settled in?

Simon tried to ignore them he really did, but there are only so many times one can hear an exasperated “god dammit” through the walls followed by an annoying screeching or banging sound. If something needed to be moved he'd move it himself and put everyone out of their misery.

Which is why he was here now standing in front of his neighbor’s door. He had confidently stormed out of his flat, but now that he was standing in front of yours he admittedly wasn’t sure if he should knock or not. He didn’t want to, but at the same time your noise level was starting to grate on him.

After a few minutes of silence from the flat he was about to turn around and leave them be.

“Fuck!” A feminine voice calls out from behind the door.

“Never mind” Simon thinks to himself, and knocks on the door.

“Coming! Just one moment!” The voice calls out. Simon is quick to adjust his stance trying to make himself appear less intimidating as he could before the door is suddenly swung open.

That was when he saw you.

You took his breath away. Standing there face slightly red and clearly still in your pajamas; you looked beautiful.

“Hello…?”

Right. He was here to see why you had been making so much noise all morning; not to just look at you. Even if that is all he wanted to do now. “Is there anything you need help with? I’ve been hearing you all morning.” Simon clears his throat, “I’m your next door neighbor.”

The red in your face only continues to grow the more he talks. “Oh! I'm so sorry- I just moved in and I’m trying to organize everything! I didn’t realize you could hear me.” You also tell him your name. He feels as if he could listen to you talk for hours.

“I’m…I’m Simon, and it’s no worries. This building is old and the walls aren’t the thickest; I can try and help though with whatever is causing you so much trouble.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you; I’ll quiet down-.”

“It’s no problem.”

You seem hesitant to accept his help; which looking at the situation makes a lot of sense. Here is a strange man essentially asking to be let into your place. Simon clears his throat and continues, “I’m the door to the right,” tilting his head towards his own door, “Feel free to knock if you change your mind.” Simon then turns and begins to walk away not wanting you to think he’s some kind of creep.

“Wait!” You call out to him, “If it’s really alright, I could use some help moving some things.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t alright.”

With that you open the door to let him inside, “Uh welcome in then; don’t mind the mess I’m still in moving chaos mode.”

Stepping inside your flat layout seemed to match his perfectly. Your living room was filled with half opened boxes. Simon tried to give you a reassuring smile, “Just tell me what you need me to do, love.”

Before he knew it he had unintentionally spent most of the day with you. Which unfortunately led him standing where he once stood merely hours ago now saying goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger!” You say smiling up at him before finally closing the door. Leaving Simon standing in the hallway wishing that he didn’t have to leave.

It’s crazy to Simon how something as simply knocking on your door can lead to this. After the day he helped you settle into your flat it seemed like the two of you were doing everything together; even unintentional things.

First, he had just stepped out his door planning to go on his usual morning walk. Which of course as soon as he had stepped out of the building there you were. Standing on the sidewalk messing with your bag. Simon had debated if he should say anything to you, or simply continue as he was. That choice was quickly taken from him though when you had looked up and saw him. The smile that bloomed on your face was all it took to draw himself to your side.

“Simon! It’s good to see you; what are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same; I’m just going on a walk.” Should he ask you to join him?

“Sounds better than what I’m doing, on my way to work right now myself.” You gesture with your left hand down the street. Assumingly in the direction of the way you're going.

Simon had to decide here and now what to do. He himself usually walks the same direction as you. He can simply say goodby right now and walk in the opposite direction, or he can take a chance. “I’m going the same way. We can walk together if you want.”

“I’d like that!” That smile you give him is making Simon think he’s slowly losing his mind.

Of course this event led to Simon walking you to work every morning. Enjoying the calm air and each other's company.

Next, after a few days of walking you to work, you had invited him over for dinner.

“You’ve helped me so much with my flat it’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have to repay me for that love.” In all honesty he would love to have you make him a home cooked meal, but it worried him how much he was already enjoying your company. Simon was scared to get any closer to you. He couldn’t say no though when listening to you ask so nicely for his presence.

One meal turned into two, then three. Until finally you and Simon were having dinner together every couple days.

He had to admit that things were moving fast when it came to you, but at the same time he didn’t feel as if he was drowning with you. It feels strangely natural to be around you.

Having you here made it easier for him to pretend that all was good; that you were his. For the first time in a long time coming home didn’t have to mean being alone anymore. It’s a shame that he’s leaving in just a few weeks.

#simon riley x reader #x reader #fem reader #neighbors #tf 141 #task force 141 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #female reader

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anniemika · 1 month

Text

No one else

Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: explicit sex, cunnilingus, cursing

…..

"Mommy! Daddy’s here!” The sound of tiny footsteps echoed through the apartment, causing your maternal instincts to kick in. Worried that your daughter might trip on the stairs, you hurriedly made your way to the hallway. To your surprise, you found her standing by the door, her little backpack neatly packed, and her favorite plush toy clutched tightly under her arm.

"Sweetheart, what have I told you about running down the stairs?" you asked, trying to hide your smile at how adorable she looked.

"I know... sorry," she replied, giving you the most irresistible puppy eyes, swaying on her feet as if she knew exactly how to melt your heart. Just like someone else you knew.

"Mr. Poodles is coming with you, huh?" you said, kneeling down to help her tie her shoes properly.

"He can't wait to see Daddy, just like me," she grinned, hugging her stuffed animal. "Wish you were coming too."

For a moment, you froze. "This is your time with Daddy, baby. You've spent the whole day with me."

"But don't you want to have fun with me and Daddy too?" she asked, her innocent eyes searching for an answer. Right as she finished her question, the person of your discussion knocked on the apartment door.

"Daddy!" Your daughter practically pushed you out of the way as soon as you opened it, throwing herself into her father's arms.

"Wow! You're getting bigger every day!" he exclaimed, holding her tightly. "How's my baby girl?"

"I can't wait to go to the ice rink!" she squealed with excitement.

"Oh, me too, baby. Do you have your skates ready?"

"Umm, I think they're upstairs."

"Then go fetch 'em!" releasing her from his embrace, you both watched as she sprinted towards the stairs.

“Remember what I said!” you said after her, but she was too eager to hear your reminder.

You turned your attention back to her father, who was still smiling goofily, his eyes fixed on the direction your daughter had gone.

"She's been talking about this all day," you said to him, your lips curving into a smile.

Eren turned to face you, his gaze lingering a bit too long on your features before he spoke. "Yeah, she's been wanting to go for some time now."

"Just keep an eye on her, please. You know how hyperactive she can get, just like-"

"Me?" Eren tried to hide his smile, but it was evident, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yes, just like you," you replied, a hint of affection in your voice.

You stare at each other for a few moments, before Eren grabs his backpack and begins to rummage through it. “I, uh.. got you something.”

You adjoin your eyebrows in confusion, but then he clarifies. “For your birthday.”

“Eren, you shouldn’t ha-“

“I wanted to.” He declares with a tone that suggests there’s no point in fighting him about it. After he gets a tiny present box out of his backpack, he moves closer, handing it to you.

"Thanks." You smile timidly, trying to escape his gaze. When you open it, your eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, Eren..”

You put your hand against your mouth in awe of the golden necklace positioned in the little box. It’s a lock necklace in the shape of a heart, with your daughter’s picture right at the center of it.

“Eren, this is... it’s beautiful.” Your eyes are still large as you inspect the jewelry, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Eren casts a warm smile your way. You exchange glances with him, something you can’t quite decipher shining in his jewel eyes. “I was thinking-“

“I’m ready!” Your little bundle of joy appears in front of you, showcasing her pink glittery skates in her hand.

“Yeah?” Eren kneels next to her, giving a kiss on her puffy cheek. He looks at her, then at you, and then leans closer to your daughter’s ear, “Say, sweetheart.. don’t you think mommy should come with us, too?”

She doesn’t even waste a second, “Yes! Mommy, please come with us!”

You shake your head, “I can’t, sweetheart, I have work to do.”

“But it’s Saturday! Saturday is for fun!” Your daughter purses her upper lip, giving you the cutest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“She does have a point.” Eren nods his head. “Come on. I’ll be making pasta later.” He tilts his head the same way he does every time he tries to persuade you about something. And you hate that you’re debating it. It’s been four months since the last time you allowed yourself to spend time with Eren, and it was the same time you decided that it’d be best to co-parent instead of trying to fix your complicated relationship. He’d agreed to it, although it took him some time to understand what that actually meant. No more touching, kissing, spending nights together. It was hard for him, but with time, it seemed like he accepted it. Your kid was the most important thing for the both of you.

But even so, you could feel that there was still something. He was the father of your kid, and it didn’t help how amazing he was with her. Every time you saw them together, your heart would skip a beat. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad for your little girl. He did everything for her, helped her with school, taught her how to ride a bike, spent an enormous amount of time just playing with her and paying her attention. You were so grateful for that.

And you knew he still had a thing for you. He hadn’t gotten a new girlfriend even though women ogled him left and right, and when he would come to pick your kid up, he’d always talk to you, not being so smooth in trying to find out if you were dating someone or not.

Eren can see you’re still debating it, so he raises his arm in the air, “Everyone who wants mama to come, raise your hand.”

Your daughter follows suit, one tiny hand in the air, the other one holding onto Mr. Poodles’s hand. And you want to cry because this is the cutest image in the entire world.

“See, three against one.” Eren smirks your way, and of course, your cheeky daughter mimics it. That’s when you know, you’ve lost.

“Fine.” They both erupt into cheers, giving each other high fives. “Only for a little while, though.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

…..

The ice rink wasn’t as full as you’d expected for a Saturday, which was a welcome surprise. You couldn’t even remember the last time you went, but it was probably with Eren. He was the one that taught you, and then taught your little girl as well. It always amazed you how even though he was pretty impatient as a person, he was always so patient when it came to her... and to you, too. You really liked that about him.

You watched your daughter grab onto her father’s hand as they slid their skates across the rink, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart get full.

“Mommy! Come on!” She shouts to you, waving her little hand as Eren turns to look at you, a soft smile gracing his lips.

And if you really think about it, this is all you’ve ever wanted.

…..

“I should go.” You say as you gather your skates in one hand, watching as Eren helps your daughter undo hers. You’d been skating for the past two hours, and it was beginning to get cold, so after having spent the best time laughing and doing circles around the rink, with your bundle of joy holding you and Eren by your hands, you’d decided to call it a day.

“Don’t,” Eren basically jumps from the ground, his reaction surprising all three of you. Trying not to cringe from his sudden actions, he moves a bit closer, until you can faintly smell his cologne. “Please stay.”

You’d be lying if you said you expected the vulnerable tone those words came out with. He locked his gaze with yours, the pleading look in his eyes striking something deep inside your chest.

You still don’t say anything, so Eren tries again, “We’ll drive you afterwards. Right, sweetheart?” He turns to his daughter, who’s already giving you her irresistibly green puppy eyes.

“Please, mama. Mr. Poodles is gonna be sad if you leave.” She’s bringing the plush toy to her chest, her pointy chin resting on the animal’s head. They’re both really working you today.

You move your stare back to Eren’s, who looks like a little boy waiting for his parents to allow him something he really wants. You ignore the nestled feeling inside your chest, the one that seems to know why he’s acting this way. Finally, you sigh, tilting your head to catch your daughter’s expression again, “Well, I guess I can’t let Mr. Poodles be sad, now can I?”

…..

You hadn’t been to Eren’s new place ever since he left your shared apartment. You knew where it was because you’d often pick your daughter up from there, but you never felt comfortable enough to go in. Deep inside, you knew why you never wanted to. Not that you’d admit it to yourself or anyone else, but truth was, you were scared. Scared of accidentally bumping into a hook up, even though you knew he’d never allow that while your kid was there. But still, you were always on edge. You were afraid of him living the bachelor life now that you officially weren’t together, because as much as you wanted him to be happy, seeing your daughter’s father with another woman was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to be ready for.

But now, as you make your first step inside, you’re instantly washed with a sense of relief. The place isn’t big nor small, there’s just the right amount of space for a single dad whose kid comes over a couple of times a week. It’s tidy, there is no cereal on the table or alcohol bottles scattered around the shelves. There are a few plants positioned next to the window, their leaves as green as their owner’s eyes. You can even see the little cherry tomato tree you gave him as a gift after your third date—you’d made cherry tomato pasta that he absolutely loved, begging you for the recipe afterwards. Even though it was pretty simple, his reaction made you so happy, you gifted him the tree the next time you guys saw each other. You’d told him that whenever he wanted, you could make it for him with homemade tomatoes.

“Mommy, look what daddy and I drew!” Your daughter breaks your train of memories when she sprints towards the coffee table in the living room, grabbing what you suspect is the drawing, “Look! It’s us!”

She proudly presents the painting to you, smiling from ear to ear. You crouch down next to her, examining what you presume is all three of you holding each other by the hand, with wide smiles drawn on your faces. You can’t help but grin.

“Oh wow, you’re quite the artist, aren’t you?”

“Daddy helped!” She goes to grab her father by the hand, and you exchange glances with his handsome face, emerald eyes shooting arrows right through your heart.

“I bet he did.” You look down at the picture again, memorizing every little detail. How your hair is in your usual hairstyle, how Eren’s shirt is in his favorite green, how your daughter has a huge grin on her face, the same one she has on right now in front of you. And even when just looking at this drawing is enough to fill your heart with joy, you know that it’s not really similar to your real life. Because you and Eren.. you’re separated. You don’t take your kid for walks in the park together. You don’t go to the movies as a family. You don’t fall asleep in his arms after you’ve read your kid a bedtime story. The only time in the near past that you felt this way was today.. at the ice rink. It amazed you how life had the unimaginable gift of making you forget all the bad with just a little bit of good.

Eren notices the sudden sullen look on your face, so he quickly changes the subject, “All right girls, go sit yourselves down. I’m going to start dinner.”

…..

The sweet aroma of sizzling garlic fills the air of the kitchen. You’re seated opposite your little girl, who is now drawing a picture of a cat she’d seen outside the ice rink. It was her favourite animal, something she doesn’t keep away from you or Eren, giving not so subtle hints of what she would describe as the perfect birthday present.

“It smells really good.”

You say, trying to keep the conversation light and neutral. You're aware of the tension that underlies these simple domestic moments, but you're also conscious of the need to maintain a sense of normalcy for your daughter's sake.

Eren glances over his shoulder, offering you a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. I'm making that cherry tomato pasta. Remember, the one you taught me?"

You nod, the memory bittersweet. "Yeah, I remember."

Your daughter, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chatters excitedly about the orange cat she’s drawing, her words filling the space with innocent energy. You listen to her, responding with the appropriate nods and laughs, but part of your attention remains on Eren. The ease with which he handles the kitchen utensils and the familiar way he moves around the space remind you of the times you cooked together, a pang of nostalgia hitting you as you watch.

The pasta is served, with Eren sitting down beside you. You take a bite, the flavors just as you remember, and you can't help but compliment him. "You've got this down to a T," you say, a genuine smile touching your lips.

Eren looks at you, his eyes filled with what you can only describe as warmth. "I had a good teacher," he replies before he turns his attention back to your daughter, who is happily twirling pasta onto her fork.

“Do you like it, little miss?” He asks her, removing some stray hairs from her face so they don’t end up in her meal. The sight makes your heart swell.

“Best pasta ever!” She gives him a grin and Eren chuckles, pinching her on the nose.

“You’re the cutest kid ever.”

“Have to agree with that statement.” You chime in, smiling at them both.

“It’s no surprise. You made her.”

Eren's comment catches you off guard, a compliment wrapped in a simple truth, and it brings a flush to your cheeks.

You give a soft laugh, brushing off the sentiment with a playful roll of your eyes, but inside, your heart feels a gentle tug. "Well, I had some help.”

Eren nods his head, attempting to conceal his smile, but it was futile. The warmth of the moment seems to hang in the air and the rest of the meal passes with ease, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful banter. It's a reminder of the chemistry that once brought you together, still present in these small interactions. As you watch Eren interact with your daughter, his love for her evident in every gesture and word, you once again prove to yourself that choosing him as the father of your child was the right choice. Despite the separation, he remains a devoted father in every aspect, and that's something you can't help but respect.

After dinner, as Eren clears the table and insists on handling the dishes, you take the opportunity to spend some quiet time with your daughter, helping her with a puzzle she shows you, one that she’d started with her dad a week ago.

“You’re not ready for what I’m about to show you.” Eren’s voice carries a playful tone as he approaches, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“What is it?” You turn to him, trying to ignore the way he’s rolled up his sleeves, his big, veiny hands on display.

“Just wait here.” He says with a grin, disappearing for a moment into another room. When he returns, he’s holding something behind his back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. You exchange a curious look with your daughter, who shrugs with an amused smile. Then with a flourish, Eren presents what looks like an album, one you instantly recognise when you read the title emblazoned across the cover. It's a photo album you both started when your daughter was born, filled with snapshots of her life, from her very first moments in this world.

You take it in your hands as if you’re holding the most precious thing in your life — because in a way, you are. The album is more than just a collection of photographs; it's a tangible chronicle of your daughter's journey, a narrative woven together by the love and care of her parents. You run your fingers over the title, the letters familiar and filled with a history that only you and Eren understand.

“I haven’t seen this in forever.” You say, with a sort of awe in your voice as you flip the first page. There she was, your daughter, in her very first photograph, a tiny bundle swaddled in a hospital blanket.

“Found it at my mom’s house.” Eren says as he settles on the living room couch beside you. You lean into the comfort of the cushions, the album resting on your lap, and as you turn the pages, you're enveloped by the warmth of the memories it holds.

Each photograph tells a story, and you're struck by the vividness of those early days, the emotions as fresh as if they were just yesterday. The sleep-deprived smiles, the first time your daughter grasped your finger, the countless expressions of wonder as she discovered the world around her—all are captured in these pages.

"It's amazing you found this," you say, looking over at Eren with gratitude. "I didn't even realize how much I missed it until now."

Eren nods, his gaze lingering on the images. "Yeah, I stumbled upon it while helping Mom with some cleaning. I figured we should have it here, where we can all look at it whenever we want."

The two of you continue to reminisce, sharing stories and laughter as your daughter, now more interested in the album than her puzzle, climbs onto the couch to join you. She points to a photo of herself as a toddler, her face painted with an expression of pure joy, and asks about the day it was taken.

"That was your second birthday," Eren explains, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "You had that little cake with the cartoon characters on it. You were so excited you barely let us cut it."

“Can I have the same one on my next birthday?” She asks with that childlike innocence that makes each question so endearing.

"Of course, sweetheart," you reply, matching her enthusiasm. "We'll find a cake that makes you just as happy as that one did. Maybe we can even add some new decorations to make it extra special for this year."

Eren nods in agreement, always ready to make her birthday wishes come true. "We'll make it a great birthday," he assures her. "Maybe we can even look at some pictures together and pick out what you like best for the cake design."

Your daughter claps her hands excitedly, the prospect of planning her cake adding to the anticipation of her birthday, no matter that it was 5 months ahead. "Yay! I want it to be a surprise, though. I want to see it and be like, 'Wow!'"

You both laugh, charmed by her excitement and her desire for a surprise. "It'll be our little project," Eren tells her. "A big, happy birthday surprise."

The evening continues with a warm, gentle rhythm as you turn more pages of the album. Each photograph sparks a new conversation, a new story, or a fond recollection. And as the night progressed and the album came to an end, your daughter ended up falling asleep on your shoulder.

Eren quietly gathers her in his arms and carries her to her bedroom, her head resting against his shoulder as he walks. You follow, watching the tender scene. The house was quiet, save for the soft sounds of your daughter's breathing and the faint creak of the floorboards underfoot.

Once in her room, Eren gently lays her down in her bed, taking care not to wake her. He pulls the covers up to her chin and tucks them around her snugly, ensuring she is comfortable and warm. You stay in the doorway, your heart full, observing this nightly ritual that never seems to lose its significance.

With the stealth and coordination of seasoned parents, you both retreat from the room, Eren turning off the light and closing the door just enough to leave a comforting sliver of light from the hallway. The two of you return to the living room, the silence a stark contrast to the laughter and storytelling that had filled it just a short while ago.

“It's been a good day," Eren says softly, his voice reflecting the peaceful atmosphere.

"Yeah, it really has," you agree, leaning against his kitchen counter.

Eren looks down at his feet, like he’s trying to find the proper words. "I wanted.. to say thank you. For tonight, for this," he gestures to the space around you, encompassing the warmth of the evening spent together, "for everything."

You offer him a soft smile, "I'm glad we did it," you reply. "It's important, for her."

And for us.

“She was really happy, wasn’t she?”

You nod, trying not to look him in the eyes. You felt.. vulnerable. You and him, alone, in this close proximity.. it hasn’t happened in a long time. And with the way your heart is beating, you know what you should do next, no matter if it is the last thing you want to do.

“I should get going. It’s getting late.” You tell him quietly, afraid of not waking your daughter up.

“Wait,” he grabs your hand just before you begin to walk away. Eren's grip is gentle but firm, a silent plea for just a moment longer. You pause, turning back to face him and those beautiful green eyes of his.

“Y/n, I…” he hesitates, searching for the right words, his eyes locked with yours. “I’ve missed you.”

Your mouth opens slightly, but words don’t find you. There’s a flutter in your chest, his words stirring emotions you've tried to keep at bay

You watch his face contort into a melancholic smile, “I barely functioned without you.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. You can see the sincerity in Eren's eyes, the raw honesty that he's allowing you to see. It's disarming, and for a moment, you're transported back to a time when the distance between you didn't exist.

You swallow hard, the flutter in your chest growing into a storm of emotions that you struggle to contain. Nonetheless, you try to keep the conversation light, letting out a low laugh.

“Seems like you’ve been doing fine.”

But Eren doesn’t buy that. He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes unwavering.

“Yeah, well, I had to. Doesn’t mean you haven’t been on my mind the whole time.”

The proximity and his familiar scent make your heart race, and the walls you've built to compartmentalize your feelings feel as though they're beginning to crumble. You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. The closeness is overwhelming, and you're reminded of the intimacy you once shared. It's a dangerous territory, and part of you wants to step back, to reestablish the boundaries that have kept you both grounded in your new reality.

“Eren, we’ve been through this-“

“I can’t be with anyone else.” He spits out, and you’re left speechless. His declaration cuts through the air, leaving a silence that feels both heavy and electric.

“And I’ve tried- fuck, I’ve really tried, but it doesn’t work. You’re my girl.”

Your stomach is doing somersaults. The intensity of the confession sends your emotions into overdrive, and for a moment, you're caught in the eye of a storm that's been quietly brewing. His words, raw and unfiltered, resonate with a part of you that you've tried to keep hidden away, a part that still responds to him with a familiar pull.

“Eren, this isn’t right- things are fine now, for the first time in a long time. We’ve worked too hard for this, for where we are now.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” His eyes convey his apology, but you can see he’s been keeping this inside for way too long. “But I really don’t think I can ever imagine my life without you.”

“You won’t have to, we have a child-“

“Yes, I know.” It comes out a bit harsh, but he doesn’t mean for it to be. “But just the thought that you might end up with someone else.. it’s like a fucking tumor inside my brain.”

The rawness in Eren's voice strikes a chord within you, and you can't help but empathize with the pain he's expressing. It's clear that his feelings are genuine and that he's been wrestling with them for some time. Yet, despite the empathy you feel, you know that the health of your family dynamic is at stake.

“Eren.” You say softly but firmly, “We have a little kid together. I don’t want to screw her up like my parents did me. I want her to be happy.”

“Don’t you think she will be, though? All she does is ask me when I’m moving back. We’ve never fought in front of her. You know I’d never let that happen.”

“Yes, but we did fight a lot last time. I don’t want to live like that, like my-“

“Hey, we are not your parents, okay?” He cradles your face in his hands, and that’s when you realise there were tears forming in the corners of your eyes, “Stop thinking about them and just think about us.”

You stay like that, looking up at him, his touch gentle and comforting.

“I’m so sorry about last time, believe me. I’ve learned from my mistakes. And I know it’s hard for you, but I’ll show you. All I want is for you and our baby to be happy.”

The warmth of his hands on your face and the sincerity in his eyes make it hard to maintain the walls you've built to protect yourself.

“I love you to death, y’know that, right?”

And then, it’s all over.

“Eren..“, you hiccup, crumbling into his arms, sobbing quietly as the emotional dam breaks. The stress of holding back, of trying to be strong and keep everything together, is suddenly too much.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm as he holds you close. "I'm here. I've got you."

The comfort of his embrace allows you to let go, if only for a moment, of the fears and doubts that have been haunting you. In the safety of his arms, you allow yourself to feel the full extent of your emotions—the love, the hurt, the hope, and the uncertainty.

“There’s never going to be anyone else for me. Ever.” He whispers, “I’m willing to do the work. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You feel the steady beat of his heart against your ear, a rhythm that once felt as familiar as your own. He loves you. He truly does, and you know that, you’ve always known. After a moment, he brings you back by the shoulders so he can look at your face.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Stop it.”

You try to hide yourself in your hands, but he catches them softly.

“It’s true. No one else compares, baby.” He brings his hands to your hips, and your heart skips a beat. “No one.”

“Eren..”, you say his name softly, eyes glued to his pretty lips.

“Yeah?” He reciprocates your tone, and you’re sure he’s caught on the change of atmosphere. Of course he has, he’s the one who started it.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You encircle your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer.

“Shit, not as much as me.” He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, “It was like a part of me was gone. The only time I felt happy was when I was with our baby girl.. and when I’d see you.”

“I.. I didn’t know what to do. I thought this was the best decision, but.. I was so sad, Eren.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He rubs soothing circles around your hips, “If I wasn’t such an idiot, this wouldn’t have happened.”

You stay like that for a while before he catches your chin between his fingers, making your eyes meet. “Do you love me still?”

Even if you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“.. Yes.”

You’d never seen him smile like that. It was the purest, most joyful smile you’ve ever seen on a person. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling your face closer until your lips meet, the kiss soft but passionate, one that sends butterflies across your whole being, one that you’ve dreamed about for the past 5 months.

When the kiss ends, his gaze rests on your face, “Then..”, he removes a strand of hair behind your ear, “if you still trust me, give us another chance, Y/n.”

You’re embarrassed by how aroused you feel in this moment, with his body pressed against yours, faces inches away.

“Kiss me again.” You whisper before pulling him to you again, this time taking the lead, your hands leading his to your lower back, signaling for him to pick you up. Eren doesn’t need an explanation with words, he knows exactly what you want. And even though he wants it more than anything in the world right now, he still knows that he needs to be cautious, to ensure that this is what you truly want and not just a momentary lapse driven by old feelings and the intimacy of the moment.

He looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, for the certainty that this step is one you both want to take. "Are you sure?" he asks quietly, his voice a mix of desire and concern. The last thing he wants is to rush you or make a decision that could complicate the fragile progress you've been making.

"Yes," you reply, your voice steady, eyes locked with his. There's a clarity in your decision, a conscious choice that speaks to the connection you still share. You're aware of the significance of this moment, of the potential it has to either rekindle something beautiful or to reignite past pains. But right now, you're choosing to focus on the present, on the longing you feel, and the man before you who still holds your heart.

“Take me to bed, Eren. Please.”

With your affirmation, Eren gently lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he supports you with strong arms. The kiss deepens, fueled by longing and a profound familiarity that has never truly faded. It's a dance of lips and breath, a silent conversation that speaks volumes about the love and tension that have always characterized your relationship.

Eren carries you with a tenderness that belies his strength, each step towards the bedroom measured and deliberate. The world outside this moment—the doubts, the history, the fears—falls away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable pull that has always existed between you.

As he lays you down on the bed, there's a reverence in his touch, a silent promise to cherish and respect the trust you're placing in him. He kisses your lips, your cheeks, your chin, and each kiss is a wordless vow, a gentle affirmation of his love for you. Eren's lips move with a purpose, tracing a path of passion across your neck, your soft breaths an indication that he’s on the right path. When he reaches the buttons of your shirt, his eyes meet yours again, a silent question lingering in them, seeking permission to continue. You nod slightly, watching as he undoes each button slowly. When he realises you’re not wearing a bra, he lets out a low groan before taking a nipple inside his mouth. You moan, his expert tongue drawing circles around the nub, making you feel a warmth at the pit of your stomach. His fingers go to the other breast, squeezing it not too gently, something you understand given the fact he hasn’t touched you in more than five months.

“You have the most perfect tits.” The comment pulls a soft giggle out of you, one that disappears the moment his palm lands on your clothed heat. Now he’s the one smiling, his tongue still working your sensitive nipples. He knew you loved it when he played with your breasts.

When he decides to keep going down, he lets go of your tit with a bop, then kisses down your navel, paying attention to every part of your unclothed body.

“I’ve thought about this every day.” A kiss. “Every night.” A lick. “Every fucking hour you weren’t with me.” A suckle.

Your moans echo through the bedroom as Eren undoes the belt on your jeans, chuckling when your impatient self lifts your hips to help him remove the garments more easily. He does as you wish, throwing your jeans onto the floor, cursing when he sees your white panties are soaked with your essence.

“It’s been so long, huh, baby?” He draws soothing circles around your clothed clit, “You missed me here?”

“Yes, yes,” you’re restless, moving against his hand, trying to bring yourself more pleasure. “Please, Eren, please, I can’t wait any longer.”

“You won’t have to, baby, I promise.” And even if he didn’t, his erection was beginning to feel more painful than pleasurable. He needed to be inside you.

“I have to make you cum first, though.” He says firmly, “I need you to cum on my tongue.”

“No, just- please, can we do that later? I just, I need-“

“No.” And then you feel his tongue on your clit, and you have to put your hands against your mouth to stop yourself from moaning too loudly. He’s always been so, so good at eating you out, always taking his time with it, until you were creaming inside his mouth, trying to get away from him from how sensitive he’d made you after cumming so many times.

When he pushes his middle finger in, you start losing your mind.

“Oh fuck, you’re drenched. Do you want another one?”

He was such a good fucking talker, too.

“Do it, do it, please-“

And that, he did, moving them in and out of you, then spitting on his other hand so it could go up to your breast and rub around your nipple. The combination, needless to say, makes you cum within seconds.

Your whole body tenses as you let out a strained moan of his name, the strength of your orgasm leaving you completely breathless. It’s the kind of orgasm you feel on your fingertips, the type that makes every touch to your body electrifying.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just couldn’t help it.” You faintly hear Eren’s voice, accompanied by the sound of clothes rustling that you believe are his. When you finally have the strength to look down, you see his beautiful, naked body before you, his cock finally free from its confinement. It’s a sight for sore eyes, and yours sure were that. His mouth shines with your liquids, and you don’t know why you’re blushing, as if you didn’t have this man’s child. He smiles down at you before he starts rubbing his tip at your entrance, hissing from how wet you are.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He says, so gently, as if he’s not about to rock your whole world. “It hurt missing you so much.”

You want to kiss him in that moment, tell him it’s going to be fine, that you still love him, but you’re deprived of that opportunity when he pushes in, stretching your walls because of how big he is. Even though you were prepped, it still stung a little, and you think Eren knows because his strokes are slow and gentle, easing his way inside you.

“You feel amazing.” He whispers as he brings himself down to give you a sloppy kiss, your moans synchronising as he moves inside you. Your hands roam around his strong back, unconsciously pulling him down so you can feel him deeper.

“You want it harder, baby?” He asks between kisses, and you nod frantically, like it’s the only thing you will ever want in your life. When he begins to fuck you in a hastier pace, filling you up to the brim, he has to put his palm in front of your mouth so you don’t wake your sleeping daughter up.

“Shh, I know, I feel it too,” he has a hard time controlling himself as well, your pussy sucking him in so deliciously, he thinks he can stay like this forever. “Look at your tits bouncing. Just- if you could see yourself right now. You’re unreal.”

His words go to one place and one place only, making it even more pleasurable when he hits your spot over and over again.

“Rub your clit.” He instructs, sounding more and more out of breath. “I want you to cum with me.”

You do as you’re told, your fingers working on your sensitive bud as Eren stands back on his knees, his abs flexing with every move of his hips. He was becoming sloppier, like he was losing control of his rhythm, his fingers plunged into the fat of your ass as he moved you onto his dick.

“Rub them faster.” He groans, “I’m so fucking close.”

“Oh, god!” Your body bounces on the mattress as you feel the nearing rush of your second orgasm approaching. “It’s coming, I’m- oh fuck, I’m gonna-“

“Me too, shit, shit, I love you,”, he fucks you through both your orgasms, lips swallowing your desperate moans, with a little tear rolling down your face from all the stimulation and his confession. No matter how many times you heard it, it still pulled an emotional reaction out of you.

When Eren’s hips come to a halt, he doesn’t pull out immediately, choosing to stay close to you and pepper your neck and shoulders with open-mouthed kisses. You’re spent, trying to catch your non-existing breath as your hand rubs gentle circles around your lover’s back.

“I still can’t believe this happened.”

You smile against his ruffled hair, “Well, you better believe it because you just fucked the shit out of me.”

Your laughters fill the bedroom air, making the atmosphere lighter after the emotional rollercoaster that was the past hour. Eren cradles your face in his hands, and you just can’t imagine being any less happy than you are in this moment, “I’m never, ever letting you go again. Understand?” His voice is firm yet filled with a warmth that resonates with every beat of your heart.

You gaze into Eren's eyes, seeing the determination and love that shine back at you. His declaration, so full of certainty, wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"I wouldn’t want you to," you reply, reaching your hand up to caress his cheek. "But we have to promise each other something, Eren. We have to promise that we'll communicate, be honest, and work through things together. No running, no hiding—just us, facing everything as a team."

Eren nods, the seriousness of your words not lost on him. "I told you, I’ll do whatever it takes.", and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he means it.

You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a seal to the vows you've just exchanged. It's a kiss that speaks of new beginnings, of forgiveness, and of the love that has weathered the storm.

Eren nestles his head against your chest, finding solace in the steady thrum of your heartbeat, while your fingers tenderly weave through his hair, caressing him with every affectionate stroke.

“What will we tell your mini-you?”

“That I slept on the couch. She’ll be so happy she won’t even care about anything else.”

You let out a chuckle, “That, she will be.”

And as you fall asleep in each others arms, the world outside fades into insignificance. The comfort of Eren's weight against you, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, and the softness of his hair beneath your fingertips are the only realities that matter. That will ever matter.

…..

A/N: I’m having a writer’s strike and this is what came out of it. It.. surely takes a turn lol. But what is love without a little angst😅 byeee

#eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren jaeger fluff #eren angst #eren jaeger angst

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