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chososdiscordkitten · 7 months

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Just A Taste.

Synopsis: Gojo wants to taste readers breast milk •⩊•

Pairing: Gojo xFem!Reader Content: some plot, mostly nasty stuff, no penetrative sex, nursing handjob, ADULT NURSING, he tries to convince reader to let him suck a lil sum, gojo being weird, mentions he didn't have a mom, BREASTFEEDING, mommy kink if you squint, PREGNANCY KINK, whiny satoru, overall just a lot of nipple and breast play

Dedicated to: @busyreader17 , my beloved for hyping me up to write this, ty<;33

(a.n) why do I only ever write about gojo being a pregnancy freak? has to be studied. wrote this listening to very dramatic classical music

MDNI

Gojo has always been hard headed, never thinking twice on talking back or starting an argument just to prove he was right. And that little quirk about him only enhanced when his child was born.

Even if you were the one who spent countless hours in the emergency room trying to give birth to his big headed child- Satoru insisted that he knew best for his offspring. And in extension- he knew what was best for you.

“Formula isn't good enough for my child.” he retorted when you mentioned how painful it was to breastfeed his gnawing child.

And when you'd bring up that you were ready to start working again- “You don't have to work- that's why you have me.”

Little by little Gojo started dictating most of the aspects of your life. There was little to no resistance from you though- you didn't mind his overbearing fatherly tendencies when it came to protecting his family.

But there was one thing, just one thing you'd complain about if you could.

As stubborn as Satoru was in day to day life- he was equally, if not more stubborn in bed. Especially in one specific area.

Gojo begged. Begged on his knees as he watched you pump. Sitting on the couch and bouncing your knee as his hands held onto your calf, “I just want to taste-” he pouted, eyebrows pinched upwards.

“Satoru.” you gritted through your teeth- hearing the whirr of the machine on your chest. He sighed as he placed his forehead to your knee, mumbling something about how mean you were to him.

This newfound need to taste the milk from your breasts was mildly irritating, not being able to take your shirt off without his eyes prying- parting his lips before asking again.

Satoru would be lying if he said that anytime your breasts would leak against his chest midway through fucking- it didn’t take every ounce of strength he had to not trail his lips down to your puffy nipple.

So, so, very tempting. But he'd refrain from acting on his urges, knowing you'd probably shake him off or tell him to stop completely. So instead of doing it without your permission, he settled on asking you anytime he could.

At first you thought this was just him wanting to know what it tasted like, but when you offered him a small sip from a cup he said- “If i'm gonna drink it, I want it straight from the source.” to which you said, “I guess you're never gonna taste it then.” before tossing the small sip down the sink.

He must've asked 3 times a day. Gojo needed it so bad- he would beg on his knees at your feet, looking up at you like an abused puppy that you were being far too cruel to.

And you always said no.

But, your objections sounded like ‘maybe one day’ to his ears.

So one very early morning, 4 maybe 5 am- you were standing at the kitchen counter, holding the little pumping machine to your right breast as your face churned with a grimace. Your nipples were sore, from the machine sucking harshly and from how often you had to do it.

You had just started filling one of the little bottles, and as though Gojo knew what you were doing, he walked in. Squinting at you, almost asking what you were doing at this hour- till his eyes landed on your breasts you didn't bother to cover. “Go back to sleep, I'll be done soon.” you muttered in a groggy voice as the whirring woke Satoru up from the hazy state he was in.

He took a few steps towards you- resting his elbows on the counter as he watched the machine milk you. Jealous that a stupid machine had the right to and he didn't.

The sun not even breaching the skyline made the room dim and dusky.

You didn't mind if he watched- but that's all you'd ever grant him. But directly after sex- when his chest would be drippng with the light cream colored liquid that leaked from your breasts while he fucked you- and as he looked down to his sculped body in the bathroom, the sink running on a hand towel as you waited for him to come back to help clean you up.

His fingers couldn't help but swipe at the liquid before placing it on his tongue. The whisper of your taste on his tongue made one thing clear in his mind. If he couldn’t wrap his lips around your nipple and suck till there was nothing left- if you wouldn’t grant him that one favor, the closest thing he had was to fuck you in missionary from now on. Hoping one day he would ask you mid way through- and you’d be too fucked out to say anything but yes.

True if he really wanted to taste you- he could just reach into the freezer and thaw a bag of the pumped milk to try it. But he didn't just want to taste it- he wanted to feel it fill his mouth directly from the source. How warm it would be as it slid down his throat. And god- from the small tastes he's gotten, it's so sweet. You taste so fucking sweet.

His eyes watched as the plastic bottle filled up with milk, almost hypnotized by the liquid. You winced as the machine sucked at your sore nipple, which only made the cogs in Satoru’s brain start churning with schemes.

With soft eyes he fluttered his white eyelashes up to you, “Does it hurt?” he whispered, looking at your expression that looked more irritated than pained. You nodded your head slowly, “It feels like when your foot is asleep,” you muttered, “but not the ‘numb’ kind of asleep, like the kind that hurts anytime you move it.” you continued as you closed your eyes, exhausted and very ready to go back to bed.

Satoru raised himself from the counter, taking steps over to you as you felt his presence loom next to you. “Nd you have to do it all the time too-” he scoffed, playing the sympathy card so you'd think he was on your side.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “They always look so full,” he murmured against your skin, you hummed in response, agreeing with what he was saying as he wrapped his hand around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder. “So painful.” he hummed as his hands dared to trace up your bare torso.

“I can help, y’know.” The tone he said those words sounded sincere- almost as though he was just trying to make this easier for you, you let out a hum in disbelief, “Unless you're a baby who refuses to latch- no you can't.” you mumbled with a groggy voice.

Your words came out as a retort- but in Gojo’s ears they sounded like a challenge.

It was true, his child had the same stubborness as Satoru, refusing to eat anything that didn’t come from a plastic bottle. Thus the pumping and the overproduction of milk that was piled high in the freezer by now. You had half the mind to sell it or empty them down the drain, I mean what child is gonna drink that much? Even if it was a Gojo heir- no child drinks that much milk.

But the thought pained Satoru, it only reminded him of the times where that frozen milk could have been in his mouth rather than in plastic bags.

Satoru kept a light touch as his hand trailed to the side of your ribs, scooping the bottom of the free breast you hadn’t pumped yet. Feeling the weight in his hand as he lifted it lightly, and you were just tired enough to let him. “They're so heavy.” he whispered in a coo as you blinked your eyes open, fully registering what he was trying to do.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Don't be gross, ‘toru.” you spoke in a clearer voice, earning a small laugh to ring into your ear as his hand gently grasped the side of your full breast. “What's gross about wantin’ to help?” He murmured in your ear, his hand keeping a light graze as his pointer finger brushed past your tender nipple, you hissed at the feeling causing Satoru to hum an understanding ‘I know.’ into your ear.

You couldn't see his face but you were sure he was pleased with himself, “That's all I wanna do.” his words sounded wholehearted. Almost earnest as his large hand held onto your breast with a light touch, “I'll be sooo gentle, I promise.” he closed his eyes feeling your breast fill his palm with ease, “I just wanna help you,” he whispered as he pressed the off button on the little machine, guiding your hand to place it on the counter as he pressed an honest kiss to your ear.

You knew that filling those little bottles would have taken way too long, then the thought of how much faster it would be if you let him- “Let me help you.”

Satoru’s silver tongue was never your favorite part of him, you never liked how easy it was for him to hide the truth behind seemingly sincere words.

His brushing fingertips against your sore nipples didn't help either, his fingers were very, very close to squeezing the suede ring of color around the hardened peak- Satoru wanted to see if small rivulets would spurt out of your nipples if he squeezed.

You inhaled feeling the warm pads of his fingertip caress at your tender nipple. If Satoru wasn't trying to convince you of something, you'd admit it felt nice. You scoffed, “Don't make it nasty ‘toru-” you caved, sighing with an exhausted tone, feeling his warm palms lift your heavy breasts.

Gojo’s mouth had been salivating from the second he walked into the kitchen, and as you said those words he gulped hard. “Course not~” he mumbled, allowing the truth to seep out in his words.

And as he guided you to sit onto the couch as you've done plenty of times when you'd pump, he already knew how he wanted to be fed, he had thought about it over and over again. And settled on this position, his back was pressed against the tops of your thighs. His long legs extended onto the couch- unashamed of his cock rising from staring at the cream droplet that threatened to fall from your nipple.

Even if this act was obscene and borderlining on too far- you were grateful he didn't make any teasing remarks on how little it took for him to convince you this time. That and how his mouth would have been filled soon enough, so you wouldn't worry about that.

Your hand was on the back of his head, fingers filled with lily white hair as he fought back a smile. Only the gleam in his eyes showed you just how excited he was. Satoru’s lips parted as his eyes darted back and forth from your sore nipple up to your face that was warm with embarrassment. All but asking for permission as you watched his bottom lip quiver in anticipation.

With pinched eyebrows, you guided his head towards your aching breast, Gojo’s lips parted awaiting your puffy nipple. His tongue covered the bottom of his teeth- a low groan rumbled onto your skin as he lightly pressed his parted lips onto the skin around your nipple.

You watched with a grimace look on your face, not knowing why he would offer this- let alone enjoy it.

Satoru’s tongue circled at your hardening nipple, lapping softly as he tried to keep his promise of being gentle as the essence of the milk lingered on his tongue. A small huff left your lip as he rested his tongue at the bottom of your nipple, protecting it from his pearly teeth.

His hands rested atop his tummy as you caressed the back of his scalp, you nodded your head as a form of permission, giving Satoru the ‘ok’ that he could start- his lips were slow to start sucking, pulling your nipple further into his mouth with a lactogenic motion from his tongue.

Before now, Satoru wasn't fully sure how to nurse if you let him, he knew it wasn't like just sucking your nipple. But the second he felt the sore apex of your breast press against the roof of his mouth, sucking in as much of your breast as he could, his tongue massaged the bottom of your tit to coax the milk to come out.

The motion came to him as an instinct, as though nursing was engraved in his marrow from the minute he was pulled into this world.

It took very little effort to pull milk to the surface. But the moan that reverberated onto your breast from a fat droplet hitting Satoru’s tongue- it was bordering on pornographic. It was as though he saw the pearly gates of heaven when the droplet infiltrated the taste buds of his tongue.

No matter how much fantasizing he did, or any of the ghost-like tastes- nothing. Nothing, could have prepared him for how fucking heavenly you tasted.

Your milk was warm, thick enough to leave a light cast on his tongue as he tried to suckle more liquid from your nipple. Gojo’s mouth was latched onto you in a way you knew it would hurt to pull him off.

Satoru’s gaze threatened to shut as you looked down at him. His head coddled in your hand as he kept faltering eye contact with you. Only making this feel even more salacious than it should have.

No, this was only supposed to be a way for him to help- a way to remove the aching pressure from your breasts and save some time.

But that look in his eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed- almost as though he was sucking your tit in spite.

That was till a bigger wave of your milk rushed into his mouth, earning an almost anguished whimper to pulse against your skin.

Your eyes squinted trying to figure out if he was exaggerating- only the way his eyes struggled to stay open, the blush across his cheeks and the satisfied smile on the perked corners of his lips, convinced you he was being genuine.

With every ooze of the prized liquid he suckled from your plump breast, Satoru swallowed. Not wanting any to spill from his lips as you placed your hand on his chest that was threatening to start hyperventilating. Too focused on suckling as much milk as he could to even consider keeping a steady breathing pattern. The warmth of his mouth on your tender nipple was soothing, comforting almost.

Gojo’s eyes were half lidded and hazy- trying his very best not to let them roll to the back of his head as the dulcet milk trickled down his throat.

Unwillingly a small whimper fled his latched lips as his eyes closed, chest heaving from the taste of you coating his mouth. You huffed a small breath from his greedy tongue sucking harder on your nipple.

Rubbing your hand on his chest to soothe the little whimpers that rumbled your breast, thankful his eyes were closed when they rolled to the back of his head. His trapped cock was shouting at him for attention, be it instinct or just wanting to relieve the ache- his hand slowly trailed down his tummy, only your eyes were too focused on his seemingly intoxicated expression to notice.

Your hand holding his head up started rubbing gently at his scalp, seeing frustration form on his delicate features- unknowing why. But you were almost trying to soothe him as whimpers vibrated onto your breast. Watching his eyebrows furrow and the growing blush on his cheeks to deepen as his eyes fluttered open.

Looking up at you from the slightly obstructed view from below, your palm on his chest being able to feel how hard his heart was beating. And as your eyebrows furrowed with a breathy sigh- you watched the familiar look in Satoru’s eyes glimmer past white lashes.

You inhaled sharply, feeling his tongue trail from massaging the bottom of your nipple to the little mound that provided the milk. Tracing the tip of his tongue on your bud causing you to hiss his name in a warning.

That's all it took for him to continue suckling on your sore nipple. You were about to rest back onto the couch with a sigh, caressing the back of his head as you felt relief wash over your shoulders, allowing him to take what he needed and then some.

That was till your eye caught his bicep flexing- and you trailed your eyes down his pale arm parting your lips in shock as you watched his unashamed hand palm himself through his gray sweats.

You huffed- only it came out in a breathy sigh rather than in the reprimanding tone you meant it to. Satoru only moaned as he heard his name fall from your lips, feeling his mouth suck rougher in order to pull more milk from your heavy breast that threatened to suffocate his nose.

His hand hesitantly removed itself from the stiff bulge of his sweats, landing on your wrist that was on his chest. His hazy cerulean eyes filled with the kind of mist you only see when he's premeditated something long before you knew of it.

Satoru’s fingers wrapped around your wrist as he greedily drank from your nipple, so greedily that the corners of his mouth were threatening to leak the honeyed fluid- he was suckling so much, he couldn't swallow fast enough.

And as the little droplets stained the sides of Gojo’s jaw, trailing down his pale skin- he led your hand to extend over to his strained bulge. Knowing if you truly were uncomfortable by this, you would've pulled away the second you saw him palming himself.

You inhaled as his hand led you to his cock by your wrist, gasping softly with a tingle on your cheeks from how hard he was. Satoru placed his larger hand atop yours, pressing it onto his painful erection with a whine rippling through your skin.

You flashed your eyes from the gray fabric that trapped his neglected cock, back to his eyes. Threatening to blink shut as you kept a gentle grasp on his bulge. Even if he was the one in your lap, nursing at your breast in a way that can only be described as voracious. That look on his face was smug, almost as though he was right this entire time and you were the hard headed one.

Satoru trailed his hand onto your forearm, smiling to himself as you started softly palming his prominent bulge.

Your eyebrows were pinched upwards, trying very, very hard not to shift your thighs beneath his back to relieve the ache forming between them.

You felt bad, like the only reason he was palming himself- almost in a sad way, was because you allowed this to happen. It wasn't guilt- but you wanted to apologize in some way.

Satoru’s mouth suckled in no pattern, his only goal was to drain every single gush of milk you offered. No matter how fervent he must've looked right now, he didn’t care. As long as he could feel your warmth in his throat- your taste coating the cavern of his mouth- he didn’t care if he looked like a starved man.

You sighed almost in pity as he let out various throaty whimpers, firmening your fingers around the print in his sweats. “Oh ‘toru~” you soothed, knowing how hard he was- it had to be painful. Your cheeks tingling and warm as his hips bucked up into your hand for more friction.

And as your hand cradled onto the back of his head, you maneuvered the hand on his bulge to free it from its torment.

For the first time since he latched onto your nipple, his lips parted from your breast with a low moan. The cold morning air hitting his pinkening tip causing him to furrow his eyebrows, but all it took was for the feeling to settle before he attached onto your draining nipple once more.

You didn't hesitate to place your hand onto his base, feeling the light trails of his precum on his shaft from how worked up he was, tempting a gasp to leave his lips, you looked at him.

And as though he was made to do it- Satoru lightly ran his tongue at your budding nipple, lapping up the white sweetness that leaked from your breast.

You kept a light touch on his cock, his hand on your upper arm before gently resting it on the swell of your other breast. Thinking to himself how rude of him that he was neglecting your other equally tender nipple.

Satoru lightly thumbed your nipple, feeling light drips wet his thumb. Enticing you to slowly start stroking him, stopping your grasp right before your fingers could roll onto his flushed tip. Knowing he wouldn't last long if you worked over his cockhead.

The moans that rumbled from Gojo’s throat and onto your sensitive skin were full of desperation and bliss. You watched him in almost pity- trickles of your milk falling from the sides of his lips, making trails of white drip down his cheeks.

It didn’t take long for him to finish draining your breast, somewhere in his mind he knew there was nothing left in your left tit, but that didn't stop him from trying to slurp up any remaining droplets.

Gojo’s cheeks felt like they were boiling on his face, and with one last lap of your nipple, he unlatched from your breast. Huffing softly as his breath tickled your damp nipple, he looked up at you, an amazed and out of breath expression formed on his face as you wiggled your eyebrows.

It was embarrassing, the way your milk left trails of a light white film on his cheeks, the way he was breathing heavily with his cock in your hand. Vulnerable.

Satoru saw your flushed face- and to comfort you he raised himself from the tops of your thighs lightly, keeping a massaging hand on your unsucked breast as he pressed his plump lips to yours.

It was filthy- Mouths dancing against each other in pure delirium. Being able to taste yourself on his tongue- on his spit laced with milk. It was like Gojo did that to show you just how exquisite you tasted. Only for your hand to keep its snail pace, avoidant of his crying tip.

His lips pulled from yours, looking into your eyes and thumbing your weeping white nipple. Soft opened mouth moans coming from his lips as your hand stroked tenderly.

Rare were the times when Satoru was silent during intimacy, usually babbling teasing nonsense. But this time, the carnal look in his eye told you everything you needed to know. His senseless prattling wasn't even a thought in his mind right now, burning beneath his skin was pure and utter hunger. Hunger, to taste you- to drink from you. To nurse, over and over again.

The one thought that lingered in his mind was to make sure to keep you pregnant- keep you in a state to continue producing the warm comfort he hardly had as a child.

Gojo licked his bottom lip, mouth salivating as he felt the warm liquid trickle onto his palm. He leaned back slightly, looking down to your swollen nipple rolling between his fingers. Then trailing his gaze to your slow stroking hand, Gojo was sure he had never been so hard in his life till now.

He licked his lips before cupping the side of your heavy breast in his palm, slowly shifting himself down to align himself with your right breast. Your hand followed the back of his scap, guiding him to latch onto your dripping nipple.

Satoru opened his mouth, closing his eyes when he felt the skin of your breast fill his mouth again. Running his tongue across your neglected nipple and tasting the essence his fingers had squeezed out. A throaty whine leaving his nose as he started suckling, so enthralled by your taste and the gentle way you stroked him. Keeping his kneading hand on the side of your breast to assist in guiding more milk into his mouth.

Your cheeks were warm, tingling from how lewd he looked at that moment. The little whimpers that came from him didn't help either.

Happily, Satoru let those unfiltered whines pour from him, if it meant you'd know how much he was enjoying himself.

And as your hand slightly passed his tip on the upturn, he gasped against you. Almost as a warning, he sucked harder on your sore nipple in return. Gojo let out muffled cries from your hand stroking past his tip, even if you couldn't see it- his eyes were rolled to the back of his head as he suckled instinctively. You looked away from his face- churned with an insatiable greed.

Looking at his pinkening cock in your hand as the veins on his lower abdomen stood proud beneath his skin. His chest was heaving once more, forced to take heavy inhales through his nose as he felt the knot in his tummy tighten.

Satoru’s whines started to rumble louder against you, watching an inhale reach down his torso, his tummy caving from how hard he exhaled. He was so close. So fucking close and fighting it at this point. You could see it in his scrunched eyebrows and desperate suckles.

You lightly scratched your nails onto his scalp, “It’s okay ‘toru,” you sighed softly, gaining his cerulean eyes to open slightly and look up at you. You were flustered sure, but you wanted to assure Satoru that he could cum whenever he liked. He didn't need to hold off for your sake.

Only when he saw the soft smile on your lips- something deep within him snapped. It didn't click before, even with your hand tenderly stroking him and your tit in his mouth, even as he was nursing directly from your breast. It still didn't click.

But when you soothed his whimpers, the tender smile you had on your lips as he took and took from you. The nurturing tone you assured him with. That's when it made sense. That's when he realized why he had been longing to help you in this way.

Before he didn’t really question it- thought it was just something weird he found hot amongst all his other strange fantasies. But now. Now it made sense.

Your mind was a mess, barely able to process the words that fell from your lips naturally. Gojo’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as you polished his cockhead, his hips bucking up into it in response. You watched as he let go of that final reservation, sucking harshly causing more of your milk to spill from the corners of his lips with frustrated whines. Being able to feel his orgasm tighten in his stomach.

The hand on your breast was practically milking you, squeezing milk into his mouth rather than his tongue nursing at it, his nose was scrunched as he exhaled a ragged breath through his nose. Your nipple was starting to ache from the vibrating whimpers and moans, and instead of telling him to stop, you raked your fingers through his hair gently. “Shh, I know, I know.” you crooned, keeping a steady pace on his cock as he simmered his whimpers.

Ever since Satoru told you he had little to no memories of his mother, you knew he had mommy issues. And when he started asking to taste your milk you were hesitant, knowing once that pandora's box was opened there was no use trying to close it again.

Only as you looked down at him, how content and blissful he looked- unlike anything you've ever seen before, you didn't mind if it didn’t close again.

Satoru parted his eyes, feeling his orgasm slowly slip in his tummy, you watched as his eyes fluttered back to his head- mumbling something in the sound of ‘m’cummi-’ against your skin as you sped up your pace. His hips twitching up into your hand as you jerked him quickly, his lungs could barely handle how little air he was inhaling, his brain fuzzy as he slurped and lapped at your nipple.

Gojo saw stars as you stroked him past the pinnacle you worked him up, his eyes squinted harshly as his lips unlatched from your breast, throaty groans mixed with whines fell from his lips as his orgasm oozed over your hand. When your thumb caressed the opening on his tip, his cock spurted out another pump of his cum with a whine.

As you helped work through his orgasm, smaller pumps of his seed assisted in the wet strokes you gave him, Satoru latched back onto your breast with a content sigh, needing to drain as much as he could, his cock slowly softening in your hand.

And as he drank the rest of your milk you rested your hand on his lower belly, waiting for him to finish taking what he needed. His mouth wasn’t suckling as frantically nor hurried as before. You relished in the warmth his lips provided with a sigh, closing your eyes as the sun started rising. Being able to see the light through your closed eyes.

When Satoru couldn't taste any more milk coming from your drained breast, he hesitantly pulled away. Resting his head in your hand as he looked up to the ceiling hazily, milk drunk as your breasts obstructed his view.

He inhaled, “Throw away that stupid machine.” you sighed, knowing he’s hated the breast pump since he saw you use it for the first time.

“What am I gonna do when you're not around?” you murmured, thinking of a world where you wouldn't have access to a pump.

“Call me and I'll find you.”

You let out a small laugh. Leaning your back onto the couch as Satoru setted on your hand. “So fucking weird.” You murmured, hearing him let out a smiley breath.

Satoru sat up, turning to you with an endearing gaze, “Only cause I like you soooo much.” he claimed, pressing a kiss onto your temple before standing. Reaching out for your hand, ignoring the mess on his tummy, pulling you to stand as he led you to the master bathroom.

“What do you want for breakfast?” you muttered behind him, watching him halt his steps and looking back at you, “What?” he asked with a smug smile and creased eyebrows.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “...Breakfast?” not understanding what was confusing about the question.

Satoru scoffed, “What for? You just fed me.” he spoke sweetly, watching the grimace on your face churn with an appalled ‘ugh!’ as you snapped your hand away from his. You scoffed as he reached for your hand again, pulling you into his arms. Peppering kisses over your features as you groaned.

“You’re so nasty.” you scoffed as he stepped forward, leading you into the bathroom with various kisses on your cheeks.

You were sure this little activity Satoru found so much attraction in, would make its way into your daily routine. Only you didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

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writing this added 3 years to my life dead ass.

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writingouthere · 9 months

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neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

#jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen

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upsidedownmvnson · 1 year

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tell me you love me vol 2 | steve harrington

warnings: fluff, more pining

a/n: AHHHHHHHH thanks for the love

tell me you love me vol 1

Steve barely slept. He couldn't focus with you this close to him. He couldn't not love you anymore. And it was worse now, like the entire burden of knowing you love each other was crushing his chest. He wanted you to remember your conversation last night. He needed you to. But also, he didn't. What if you were just drunk? What if you thought your friendship was too valuable to risk?

It was already at risk... he sighed, giving up on trying to sleep and instead just laid with you. Steve couldn't fathom a world without you in it, he didn't want to live a life where he didn't see you every day. He needed you, more than he needed a girlfriend, maybe... maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Steve was in agony.

You shuffled in your sleep, groaning and stretching. The blankets kicked off in the night, and wrapped around your legs, and when you stretched he was forced to endure the torture of your beautiful half naked body. He couldn't look elsewhere, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

He had to get out of here.

The phone ringing was a good excuse to get out of bed, but he didn't know who the hell would be calling this early. It was quickly answered when he picked up only to be met with a word vomit of questions from Robin.

"I don't really remember but I think I just left y/n at the party," Robin was saying, "Is she there? Is she with you?"

"Yeah, she's here," Steve whispered, hoping he didn't sound as exhausted as he felt. "You left her sleeping, dude. Not cool."

"That's fucked," she said, disappointed in herself. "I was not thinking clearly, I woke up in a panic. But she's okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She's still in bed," he said.

"Good, good. I'm really sorry, tell her I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, okay..."

"You okay, Steve? You sound weird."

"No, I'm fine I just..." he sighed, "Robin I can't pretend not to love her anymore. I just - I know it's bad to date in the friend group but... I love her."

"I know you do," she said, "I only said don't date her if you weren't sure. If you're sure then go for it."

"Really? Do you think... do you think it'll work?"

"I don't know," she answered, "but I know you guys are crazy about each other and it's probably time to find out."

Steve hung up the call after promising to tell you that Robin was sorry, very sorry. He didn't want to go upstairs, he still felt confused. Would you remember what you guys had talked about? Would you change your mind? He decided on breakfast, and got to work making some bacon and eggs, deciding he would wake you up when it was ready. But first, he needed coffee.

When you woke up in Steve's bed you were confused, and disappointed he wasn't there. What time was it? The clock read just after eight, and you could smell the breakfast cooking downstairs. You groaned, stretching as much as you could before contemplated getting up or just staying here.

You didn't really remember much after the party, it all got a little fuzzy when you first started falling asleep. You loved this bed, you were staying in this bed every time you stayed over from here on out. In fact, you were never leaving it.

Except the distant call of food being prepared made you get up. The least you could do was go lend a hand.

You tiptoed down the stairs, and tried to peak at Steve in the kitchen. He was still shirtless, drinking his coffee while leaning against the counter, shuffling scrambled eggs around lazily.

The sight of him made you sigh. The ache in your chest only grew with the sight. He was so beautiful, and he just looked so... boyfriend. You wished he could be yours, you wished that you could wake up to this more often.

"Good morning," you said, joining him on the main level.

"Morning," he said, smiling at you. But it was different, it didn't reach his eyes.

"Can I help?" you asked, padding over to him and looking at all the good stuff he had going on.

"No it's okay," he said, "I'm just about done. Make yourself a coffee."

You nodded. But his demeanor was bothering you. He was being cold, distant. He wasn't acting like himself. You wondered if you did something wrong.

"Do you uh, remember much about your party?" he asked, trying to seem casual but you could tell he was prying. Looking for answers about something.

"Most of it yeah," you smiled, sipping the hot coffee. "But I don't really remember leaving, or coming here."

And it would've been impossible to miss how Steve dropped his shoulders, clearly disappointed by your answer. You wanted to say something, but you forgot how to speak. You didn't know what to say.

"Do you want to plate everything?" he asked, slinking out of the kitchen. He mumbled some excuse about the bathroom, and left you alone, thinking about what happened last night.

Breakfast was quiet, save for the tv playing quietly in the background. This was typically your favourite kind of morning, lazily getting up at Steve's, making breakfast together, just hanging out. But the air just felt different today, he didn't want your sous chef help in the kitchen, and there was no charming banter. In fact, he barely looked at you.

When you finished he said, "I guess I should get you home," as if you didn't usually hang around all weekend, and added, "I just gotta change."

And he pushed away from the table, leaving his dirty dishes abandoned. So, you guess he didn't want your help do the dishes either? Something obviously happened, or he wouldn't be this cold with you. You felt your throat getting tight, and held it together as you gathered the dishes, bringing them over to the sink.

You both got dressed, with him loaning you some sweat pants to go with the big shirt you wore to bed so you didn't have to climb into your party outfit. It still reeked of booze.

"Did something happen, Steve?" you asked, unable to tolerate the uneasy air as you both slipped your shoes on. Maybe you... maybe you confessed your feelings to him, and he felt uncomfortable, you did this... Did you ruin everything?

"What?" he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, nothing," you muttered, not wanting to push his buttons. You didn't want to pry.

"Everything's fine, babe." He put his hand on your shoulder, letting it slide off, and back to his side. "Just a lot on my mind."

Even the drive was quiet, and the tension made you feel like crying. He had the radio playing quietly, but he just didn't seem like he was totally there. But still, every question got stuck in your throat. You guys didn't say a word until he was parked in your driveway, hands remained clutched on the wheel.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked, hoping that your movie plans with Robin were even still on.

"Yeah, of course. I'll call you later..."

Now or never. "Is everything okay, Steve? You're being so quiet. I feel like you're trying to push me away."

He looked at you with those beautiful eyes, those beautiful, sad eyes and you could see his anguish, you could see there was something he couldn't say. Words were being left unsaid. Was he scared? What was he scared of? You thought... you really thought he could tell you anything.

"I'm fine," he said finally, giving you another small, fake smile.

You faked a smile, trying not to show that your heart dropped into your stomach. You had this painful fear that you'd told him that you loved him, and he'd wished you hadn't. What the fuck happened between the party and Steve's house? It was killing you. His pain was torture, and you wouldn't forgive yourself if you'd ruined the most important relationship in your life.

You nodded, and patted his leg before climbing out the car, shuffling inside before he could see how concerned you were about him.

You leaned on a wall near the door, just pondering what happened. You woke up in his bed, usually you slept in the guest room, or when you were really drunk you'd even crash on the couch. Did you being in his space make him unhappy? Maybe you were stubborn, refusing to leave his bed until he loved you. But, that didn't seem like something you would do.

A knock on the door kicked you out of your thoughts.

You opened it, and Steve was there, standing still, breathing heavy. When the door fully opened, he nearly sprung at you, not intimidatingly but like... like he couldn't stop himself from scooping up your cheeks in his hands and kissing you.

And Steve was kissing you like a starving man. Like this was the moment he'd waited for his whole life. He was soft, and tender but also desperate and passionate and you could feel everything. You could feel how he felt. Like you were one person. You kissed him back, taken by surprise but delighted. You loved him. And he loved you. And being together like this just felt right.

You moaned, unable to deny the sparks between the two of you for one more moment.

His lips were just so soft, and warm. And as his thumbs rubbed your cheeks soothingly, you thought for sure your knees would buckle from the romance of it all. You swooned, this was real life swooning.

"Tell me you love me," he whispered, barely pulling away to say it. You realize he's crying, barely, lightly, but he is, because this is the scariest thing he's ever done. He thinks that he'll perish, die if you don't actually love him back. And he's immediately returned to kissing you, backing you both up until your back hit the living room wall. "Please," he begged, breathless and desperate to hear it. He had to hear it. He was sure he would die if you didn't say it. He has to know he wasn't wrong to risk it all...

And everything came rushing back. Laying across from Steve, asking him if you were in love. Confessing your love for him and telling him him that you would still love him in the morning...

And you did.

Of course you did.

You think there's a part of you that has loved Steve since the moment you met.

He feels like home. Just being near him makes you feel safe, and comfortable. He was everything you needed, and you two were idiots to wait this long to confess. But, better late than never.

"I love you," you whispered, mumbling against his lips, returning his feverish kisses. His hands trailed down to your hips, gripping tightly and pressing himself into you. Trying to mold himself to you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close as he could get. He was a part of you, a part of your heart.

His tongue rolled into your mouth, and the grip he had on your hips tightened, making you moan again. And then he slowed, kissing you slowly. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, and pulled away, letting it slip out of his grip and back into place. He kissed you tenderly a few times.

"Say it again," he said, pulling back and resting his forehead against yours. It wasn't demanding, it was loving. He wanted to hear you say it over and over for the rest of his life.

You were breathless, but you still whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," he said, kissing you one more time. "I can't stop it, I don't want to stop it," he said. "I love you, y/n. And I want to be with you... if you'll have me."

"I love you Steve," you said, relieved that you could just love him without the longing, without the pining, and the hiding. You two were free.

"Again," he demanded, smiling, and the smile made it all the way back to his eyes. And he was himself again.

"Don't want to wear it out," you laughed, pulling him into a hug. And you held him there for a while.

"Never," he whispered, "I'll never get tired of it, I promise you that."

TAGLIST: @thebeatles-world @thatbItchs-world @plk-18 @pausmoon @onlyangle1

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader

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sapphicmsmarvel · 1 month

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Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made.

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world.

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure.

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about.

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up.

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things.

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength.

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded.

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.”

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that.

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was.

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone.

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose.

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know.

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile.

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared.

Y/N gagged at the reminder.

-------------------------------------------------

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general.

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership.

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover.

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened.

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up.

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand.

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend?

A lot. That’s what it was.

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed.

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit.

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too.

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings.

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you.

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling.

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta.

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.”

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago.

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him.

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer.

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel.

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything.

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved.

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair.

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave.

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #feyre archeron x reader #feyre x reader #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel acotar

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heartcereql · 3 months

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heaven is a place on earth with you

art donaldson x fem!reader || soft moments in your fresh new home

cw: smoking, minor cursing, no use of y/n (1240 words) a/n: writing about my sweet baby art during finals bc why not

you swore you could have stayed like this forever. tangled in silky bedsheets, soft rays of light that tingled on your face, body pressed against art's. one of those moments you wished you could pause and settle in for an eternity.

the mattress was on the floor, and cardboard boxes were scattered all around your apartment. your apartment. it felt blissful to say it. a life awaited you there, between the beige and baby blue walls that screamed for another hand of paint. it was far from the ideal, but it was perfect because it was yours. art's and your world. didn't it sound so pretty?

you looked over at him. eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his head a blond mess of curls and his skin warm despite the moring breeze that slipped inside the room through the opened balcony. art looked otherworldly. he always did, in your eyes. and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth with him, because he looked at you, because he touched you, because he loved you. because he felt for you what you felt with him.

and you two were fucking living together. the thought was enough to bloom a grin on your lips. a pure, joyful smile that made you want to jump and dance all around. pressing a feather-like kiss to his temple, you sat up, careful to untangle yourself from his arms and slinging over one of his standford t-shirts.

you reached over to your bedside table- well, the brown leather suitcase on which you had left some stuff. a provisional nightstand, let's leave it at that. you took a cigarette out of the box, holding it between your lips as you grabbed the lighter and your sketchbook and pencil.

the cool air of the early morning greeted you as you stepped out onto the balcony, goosebumps appearing all over your skin. you lit the cigarette with the pink lighter art had gifted you on your fourth date, all that time ago, when you mentioned you kept losing all your lighters. it was safe to say you'd kept this one. it had fake rhinestones forming your initial on one side. you recalled thanking art with a very excited hug and an even more excited peck.

"you made it?" you had ask him, the glint in your big eyes almost matching the glimmer of the rhinestones under the streetlamp. when art nodded, you gushed, hugging him again. "it's beautiful, art, i love it."

"i'm so glad," he smiled. you looked ethereal, all the eagerness painted on your face, cheeks rosy from the cold, babbling about how sweet you found it.

"hey, do you have any more rhinestones left?" you asked.

"yeah, yeah, here," he handed you the stickers, watching you start putting some more on the other side of the lighter. "what are you-"

but he was shut as he guessed the shape of his own initial, a very shimmering 'A'. once finished, you showed it to him proudly.

you both broke into laughter, cheeks flushed and hurting from the smiles, but it didn't matter. not when you felt so safe around him. and certainly not when he pulled you in for a kiss.

taking another drag of the cigarette, you traced your fingertips against the initials on the lighter. call it luck or fate or whatever, but none of the rhinestones had ever unstuck from where you both had originally placed them.

you sat on the beach chair that you'd placed on the balcony last night, before getting trapped between art's arms and lips, and getting lost in him. tipping the ashes off of the end of the cigarette, you opened the sketchbook. it was actually another of art's little thoughtful gifts that he loved to give you, and you loved to receive.

on the first page of it was a sweet little dedication art had written.

'for my angel girl, so you can be an artist and carry me always with you (get it? because i'm ART and you're an ARTist? so funny, i know.) love you forever baby <3'

it always made you smile when you read it, and reach over to kiss him for no apparent reason, leaving him a curious, flushed mess.

on the page you were currently at, there were some seashell doodles from your last trip to the beach. art had picked them out for you, and peered through the whole process with his head resting on your shoulder. beneath the collection of seashells was a watercolor drawing of art's beautiful, dual colored eyes, and a little sketch of a couple of figs.

looking over, your eyes settled on the pastel colored laundry your neighbors in front had hanging and swaying lightly with the dawning breeze.

your traces were fast but precise. soon, the laundry was replicated under your pencil. shirts and pants and socks and even a bra. the cigarette dangled from your lip, forgotten amidst your concentration.

you were so absorbed in drawing little daisies on the socks you didn't hear the sheets rustling as art stirred awake, or his soft footsteps as he approached you. thus, when you heard his voice, you were startled for a second.

"hey, artist."

you turned to him, eyes big. the movement was so sudden the cigarette fell to the floor.

"hey, art," you smiled, setting down the sketchbook and pencil and standing up to greet him.

his hands were on your waist in no time, pulling you in for a kiss. you nuzzled your head onto the warmth of his chest, running your hands on his back.

"morning," you looked up to him. art smiled. god, that smile. it drove you crazy, made you weak at the knees. your soft fingertips drove up to trace his smile lines, trailing down to his jaw in no time.

he tucked some strand of hair behind your ears, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "were you drawing?" art asked, spinning you around so you both faced the view, his arms around your waist.

the sky was not fully blue yet; pink and purple hues shining over the horizon.

"mhm," you hummed. "i want to colour it later, will you help me?"

"of course, baby," he mumbled, pressing kisses to your cheek.

it was something silly you two did sometimes. after pouring you both some coffee (you made it for art the way he liked, as he prepared yours as he'd learnt from several coffee dates), you'd pull out some colour pencils or sharpies and paint the little doodles you had drawn.

"hey," art whispered. "we live together."

you smiled. "yeah, we do. it's perfect."

art huffed at that. "the walls are on the verge of falling apart. and the people from the bar downstairs were noisy as fuck. and the shower-"

"shut up," you playfully hit his arm, rolling around again to face him once more. "it's you and i. sounds perfect to me."

he gifted you another smile. "you're right. it's ours. that's more than enough."

was this your own personal heaven? you found yourself thinking that often, as you got lost in his always tender eyes, or the sound of your laughters together, or the tingles he left on your skin, or the way you loved each other. as he lifted you up and carried you inside for your first breakfast at your place, you were sure of the answer. yeah, of fucking course it was.

#mike faist x reader #mike faist #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers x reader #dodge mason x reader #heartcereql

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jarofstyles · 3 months

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Growing Pains

Hey lovely people 🫶 here is a bit more of the Stacy’s Mom universe. Its a nice mix of angst, smut and fluff. Let me know what else you'd like to see from them if you'd like to see more!

Read Stacy’s Mom here

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings

WC- 5.9k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, age gap relationship, cream pie, bellybulging, praise kink, use of 'mama', angst, not too long tbh, mentions of misogyny, etc

-----

Harry was really good at ignoring what other people thought.

It had always been one of those personality traits that people said they envied, but his whole life’s philosophy is why care if you’re happy? If he wasn’t hurting anyone, if he was happy and solid in what he was doing, why did it matter what someone else thought?

He knew there would be inevitable pushback against him being in a serious relationship with Y/N. And it was serious, as he had made abundantly clear. It wasn’t at all conventional and in their small, gossip ridden town, it wasn’t a shock in the slightest that the rumor mill began buzzing as soon as they stepped out into town together for the first time, Harry taking her to dinner at a decent place of her choosing.

Their dates had been majority in the towns over just so they could enjoy their little bubble of happiness. Y/N spent time at his place when Stacy was home for the first few weeks, Harry going to hers when she was away, but he had to assure her that he knew Stacy would be upset and he’d talk to her himself.

It was a hard thing to navigate considering Y/N utterly adored her daughter. She’d been pushing her mother to go out on dates , get back out there, all of the girl power stuff since the divorce was finalized- but the woman highly doubted she meant with someone in her friend group.

All things considered, the pros and cons had been weighed and juggled and there had been no reason to keep hiding it after two months in. For a bit, Y/N had been holding on to the secrecy because she was afraid he’d tire of her. That she’d damage her relationship with her daughter and in the town for a fling that the younger man would be bored with after a bit. It was unfair to think that of Harry, she knew that, but considering her ex husband had essentially done that very thing to her? It had lingered in the back of her mind.

To his credit, Harry had been nothing but understanding and patient with her. He didn’t push too hard to go public, but he didn’t hide his desire for it either. Y/N was his, and he wasn’t ashamed of her in the slightest. He’d go up to bat for her again and again if it meant he got to keep her. The man wasn’t stupid- he knew a lot of the backlash would fall onto her. Something he’d happily take the burden of if he could. It was a conversation they revisited quite a few times, Harry holding her against him as his fingers traced the curves of her face while she expressed her fears. Luckily, it seemed that his feelings for her had proven it a worthy risk after he started talking more about the future.

Maybe with anyone else it would be coming on too strong. Hell- it had come on too strong at first, spooking Y/N when he’d asked if she was open to having more kids. If she wanted to get married again. Both things she hadn’t given much thought to before he brought it up. It had sent her spiraling for a few days, worried that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to give him the things he needed. That he’d be throwing away his youth for her instead of exploring, that she would be essentially trapping him. Her worst fear was him resenting her for settling him down.

It had caused their first fight, one of their only. His jaw had been tight when he showed up to her place after being ignored all day, arms crossed as she opened the door. He’d been dirty and sweaty from work, the sun hadn’t set yet but he had been worried sick when she had stopped replying after their initial good morning messages.

“Are you alright?” Eyes scanned her all over to observe for sickness, injury, but found nothing. His features twisted as his eye scanned her pocket, jaw ticking when he saw the phone sitting inside of it. “What's the problem?” He asked lowly. “Worried me fuckin’ sick all day, but I see the phone in your pocket. Don’t play those games with me, Y/N. You’re a grown woman and that’s part of why m’so gone for you.”

She blanched, swallowing the lump in her throat as she dropped her eyes. “I…” a shaky inhale interrupted the chirping crickets. “I don’t want to hold you back, Harry. I don’t want you to wake up one day, thinking about how you wasted the rest of your twenties on me. How… how you jumped in feet first, landing hard and buckling your knees because I’m exciting for a while.” It hurt to even think about, let alone say out loud. “I’m terrified that you’ll hate me for it. I think we’re going too fast.”

Harry didn’t answer for a moment. All she heard was a sharp exhale, seeing him tip his head back in her peripheral vision. Like he was exhausted, trying to collect himself before speaking. Rolling his neck, he looked back at her. “So you’ve worked yourself up over a situation that hasn’t even happened. That won’t happen, considering I’ve been thinking about having you since we fuckin’ met. Is that right?” He sounded mad because he was. Frustrated, more so, at the situation. He’d been able to feel her pulling away a little bit the last few days but he’d felt that sickness in his stomach the whole day when she had been quiet and not responsive to his messages.

It wasn't like he was a super clingy guy. He knew that he could be in person, he liked to be touchy, but he rarely expected constant communication. Y/N was her own woman and he liked that about her, but this wasn’t something he was a fan of.

The tone of his voice made her reel back, eyes snapping up to him at he looked at her with an irritated expression. He never spoke to her like that, let alone looks at her like she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t a nice feeling in the slightest. “Let’s be honest here, Harry.” Her irritation rose. “Yeah, I’ve worked myself up over a situation that could realistically happen. It’s one thing to fuck older women, but it’s another to settle down and be in a committed relationship with one.”

It was the wrong thing to say, simplifying their relationship like that, and she knew it. His nostrils flared as he looked at her with slight disbelief. “S’that all we’ve been doing, Y/N? Fucking?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Cause I was under the impression that you were my girlfriend and we were figuring it out. Silly fucking me then. Just a little boy, huh?”

“No- Harry, don’t you do that.” She growled back. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I could be a lot of fun right now but later on down the line it maybe won’t be. Ill slow down faster than you, I’ll get wrinkles before you, I won’t be able to keep up-“

“And you know what I’ll do then?” He stepped closer to her. “I’ll slow down with you. I’ll get wrinkles too. I could be bald. Are you gonna leave me if my hair starts to thin?”

“N-no.” She whispered, wind leaving her sails as she replied.

“Yeah; I know you wouldn’t. Just like you should know I wouldn’t.” There was a pregnant pause, the warm early evening stinging her skin because, fuck. She was just terrified.

“I wouldn’t. I’m not like him, and I know he… I know there’s that underlying trauma and stuff there. I know and m’so sorry an ass like that ever got his hands on you at all. But please try and see that I’m not him. There is no boredom. If there ever was- which there wouldn’t be- I’d come to you, I’d talk to you. I’d never cheat on you.” Stepping closer to her, his fingers curled around her cheeks, searching her face for something she couldn’t place. Apparently he found it, though, because his shoulders dropped and he nudged her face up in his grip, thumbs rubbing her the apples of her cheeks.

“I’ve dreamed of you for years, Y/N. If I’d get tired of you, I’d have done it already. But honestly?” Licking over his bottom lip, he pinned his gaze to hers. “I don’t see how that’s even remotely fucking possible. You’ve become everything t’me so quickly it should be scary, but m’not anything but ecstatic. Giddy. Please give me some credit. I’m younger than you, but I’m not stupid. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got the most incredible, intelligent, kind, generous, beautiful woman in my hands. Do you think I didn’t get a little nervous at first?”

No, actually. No she didn’t. Harry hadn’t even hinted at it, but it grabbed her interest, confusion marring her features. To be truthful, he’d never seemed to waver when it came down to her and this relationship. “I didn’t.” She admitted, feeling a bit of shame for not even considering it.

“Before I went for it, I was… it was hard to tell if you’d be alright dating someone so much younger than you. If you’d think I could handle you.” He smiled sadly. “There were a few times I was going to try and get you alone t’talk about it but fate was in my hands when you called me that night. I was over the fuckin’ moon, but still nervous. It made me feel better when I could tell you were looking at me, that I wasn’t makin’ it up in my head like I’d originally thought. And then…” his lip curled in a smirk at the memory of taking her against the counter. It was one of his favorite memories of all time. “Then I was pretty settled, but there were still nerves that you’d push me away like this. I thought I was in the clear this far along, that I’d proven how much m’utterly enamored with you but it seems I’ve got work to do.”

The anger was gone from his body, replaced with a sadness. He didn’t like the thought of her hemming and hawing over if he would get bored of her when he constantly needed to pinch himself over the knowledge that she was his. “I just need to reassure you that since I was a kid, I’ve been set in my ways. I still like the same food as I did as a child, the same shows, the same music. If I really like something? It’s there to stay.” He wasn’t obtuse. Of course relationships had their issues and there was no expectation of perfection 24/7, but he wanted to keep it as peaceful as he could.

Y/N’s face scrunched, bottom lip trembling as tears glossed over her eyes. It was embarrassing to cry over this, but the words were the reassurance she had desperately needed. “I’m sorry.” The apology was a little whimper before he sighed, pulling her into his body. Large hand running up and down her back, the woman leaned into the comfort of the larger man and relaxed into his form, burying her face in his neck. He still smelled like a bit of oil and sweat but his sweet and fresh soap lingered underneath, giving her the comfort she hadn’t known she needed so badly all day.

“S’okay, darling. Let’s go inside and sit for a bit, hm? We’ve got t’talk a bit more about what’s bothering you.”

And they did. They talked for hours that day, Harry holding her legs across his lap as he watched her express the fears she’d been holding back. In all honesty he knew it had needed to happen to make them stronger, and it did.

It was showing a bit tonight, though.

“What’s the matter?” His voice was delicate as his palm ran over her hip, curling his fingers into the soft shirt. “Hm? You’re bein’ awfully quiet tonight. Can tell something’s bothering you.”

Y/N still was shocked at how perceptive the man could be. He seemed to know the slightest shift of her mood and it had spooked her a bit at first, but now she realized she couldn’t hide much from him. Perhaps it was her own life lesson that she needed to trust someone, but still.

“It’s silly.” She sighed softly, reaching a hand up to cup his stubbly chin. The comfort of his touch had only gotten stronger since they’d gotten together, the mixture of feeling delicate in his hold but empowered considering she knew he would move the moon if she asked him to.

“Not silly if you’re thinking about it.” He clicked his tongue. “Off with it then, pretty girl.”

“It’s… one of those women, the one you slept with from Stacy’s swim club… she was awfully bitter about us being together. Tried to tell me that I was just a phase of yours- which, I see your eyebrows, I know that isn’t true and that isn’t why I’m upset.” She laughed quietly, gently pinching his cheek. “I just couldn’t believe the audacity of her. Trying to tell me how passionate you are in bed, doing all sorts of catty things… I know she’s jealous, I’m rational enough to deduce that she’s just a bit crazy but it irritated me that she talked as if you’re some sort of object. Like you’re… an accessory or something.”

Y/N had found herself very defensive of the man in the months they’d been together, and while she was aware he had slept with other woman, she hadn’t expected them to be so awful about him.

“Darling…” Harry chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. “To her, I am an object. I gave her nothing of me besides physicality. And I can assure you, it wasn’t very passionate. It couldn’t hold a candle to you. In all honesty, I haven’t thought about another woman in months. Forgot about her, actually.” Harry had no woman on his radar except her. He was so utterly smitten with the woman in front of him that he knew he would never think of another woman in any sort of way again.

“Yeah. It is silly, because I know you’re devoted to me-“

“And I am, Mama.” He purred, his hand gently tugging on the ends of her hair to lean it back to where he wanted it. “I’m completely and utterly devoted to you. You’re my goddess, didn’t you know that?” The hushed voice made her swallow thickly, the hand on her hip pushing under her shirt. “There is no one else I think about. They don’t exist to me. The only woman occupying my brain is you.” Lips pressed against her forehead, exhaling slow and heavy through his nose. “I’m obsessed with you. Don’t you know?”

“I-I do.” She stuttered. Somehow, the man years younger than her had a way of completely making her fall back into the shy younger girl she used to be. Giggly and giddy, shy when he would express such sweet things to her. Her ex had never been this verbally kind to her, let alone wax on about how much he adored her. It still shocked her.

“Mm… good. Because I have no problem reminding you, baby. None at all.” His nose brushed hers, letting their breathing mingle. “I’ll be happy to remind you every single day that you’re the woman of my dreams and the other people I’ve been with don’t exist to me. They’re nothing compared to you. My dream girl.”

Y/N took the first bite, pulling him down to kiss her. It was a need now, not even just a want. She needed to feel him, to taste him. It was still new to her, how adored he made her feel, and all she could do was hope he knew she felt the same. “H….” She whispered, breaking apart from their kiss as his hand slipped under the waistband of her shorts, wiggling down to cup her ass.

“Hm?” He chuckled lowly. “Do you need me to remind you, Mama? Want me to show you just how obsessed I am with you?”

The woman didn’t want to need that reassurance, but she really did enjoy a reminder considering she knew how he was going to give it to her. “I think I could use a refresher, yeah.” She replied, watching his grin grow before he kissed her again, hauling her body up and into his arms. Ignoring the squeal, he brought her into his bedroom, laying her on the sage green comforter and let his thumbs tug at the shorts.

“I’ll give you as many refreshers as you need, my girl.” He hummed, letting his shirt follow and fall to the ground as Y/N followed suit. His eyes zeroed in to her panties, easily getting on his knees and grabbed her thighs to pull closer to the end of the bed. “S’been too long, hasn’t it? You’ve been mean and kept me away from my pussy.” He shook his head, kissing over the fabric.

“I was on my period!” She squeaked, watching his fingers curl into the waistband of her panties.

“And?” He lifted his eyes to her own. “Told you that it doesn't matter t’me. Put down a towel.” He wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Even more so because he knew it would potentially help cramps, but he respected her decision to not want to.

“Oh god….” Her head fell back as his tongue licked over the sligh through the fabric, wetting it. “Harry… you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He assured. “It’s your decision, but M’just saying it doesn’t gross me out and I don’t care. But now you’re off of it, and M’gonna take full advantage of that.”

Y/N gasped as the panties were tugged off in a hurry, so fast she had barely realized they were gone before his face was buried in her pussy. “Oh my g-god, H.” She laughed in shock, though it quickly melted into a moan as he pressed his tongue over her and let his nose brush her clit.

He had never been anything but thorough when it came to oral sex, and she had the knowledge that he thoroughly enjoyed it too. She would even contemplate if he liked it more than her, but it was hard to confirm that when she had the pleasures of his mouth.

Harry hummed at the taste of her, slowly peeling her thighs to the side and using a finger to spread her open. “There she is. I missed this pussy, baby.” He mumbled, the sheen of her and his spit on his lips. “How could you think of me with anyone else when I can barely go four days without this, hm? Don’t you know how addicted I am?”

She had some clue. A shaky exhale left her as she watched him purse his lips, a string of spit dribbling over her exposed cunt. Somehow he made it so hot, it had become one of her favorite things. A trigger of sorts. She’d never imagined herself liking any sort of spitting, but there was something so filthy and carnal about the way he did it that she found herself squirming and wanting more each time.

“I know you like that, baby. My sweet girl, like when m’dirty and spit on this cunt to get it wet.” He crooned, repeating the action. He watched as the spit dribbled down to her asshole, humming in satisfaction. “You don’t need the help, not with how drenched this cunt gets for me but you like it when m’filthy with you.”

Y/N loved how Harry was in bed. From going to somewhat pleasant missionary to completely and utterly wrecked by a man who wanted nothing more than her pleasure, it had been a complete 180 and quite frankly, rocked her damn world. “I do. I like when you’re dirty and you act like you… act like you can’t get enough.”

“Oh Mama, I can’t.” He cooed. “I can’t get enough of this perfect pussy. Obsessed with it, obsessed with you. You know I think about it all day?” His thumb drew slow, firm circles on her clit, making her buck into him a little bit. He ignored it. “Think about when I get to get to you, how all I want t’do is tear whatever’s covering you up and make you sit on my face. You do love when I do that.”

Oh, did she fucking ever. The man was relentless with his tongue but he became a whole other beast when she sat on his face. In an area she’d been reluctant to, she had become reliant on.

“Please… I want to cum.” She pleaded. Days after the cycle she was particularly sensitive and the man knew that far too well.

“Then cum.” He smiled, licking over her entrance. “M’never going to say no to making my girl orgasm. But you’re gonna just keep cumming and cumming, so remember that.”

Y/N had found herself well acquainted with orgasms after years of being reliant on herself for them, but it never ceased to amaze her how the man could play her body like a violin and almost demand her orgasm. How he knew the right spots, the right tricks. No one had taken the time to get to know the things she liked quite like him, and she knew this was a rarity. Her stomach tightening, toes curling as he played with her body like he was the expert in all things pleasure.

The combination on his thumb rubbing her sensitive clit and his tongue pressing into her hole, she could feel the orgasm wash over her. Hands in his hair, she let out a broken moan, the first of many she assumed he’d give her tonight. And just like she suspected, even after the orgasm had dulled slightly, he kept going.

“Harry, fuck.” She gasped, feeling fingers inside of her cunt and his mouth switching to circling her clit. One thing she’d learned was that he was relentless, especially when it came to making her cum.

“What baby?” He grinned mischievously. It didn’t matter that his face was filthy with her, he seemed to prefer it that way. “S’not my fault I need this pussy. You’re too perfect.”

For the first time in her life, she was being doted on. There wasn’t a single question in her mind that Harry really was as obsessed with her as he portrayed because there was no way he could fake it this good. Tongue dipping into her entrance and thumbing her clit, working her through another before she successfully tugged him off to meet her mouth.

Frantic hands tugged at his belt, yanking hard as he chuckled against her lips. “Eager, aren’t we?” He cooed. “C’mon then, Mama. Take me out so I can fuck you the way your greedy little cunt needs.”

The filth that came out of his mouth was better than any of the sex she had prior to him. His unashamed nature and insistence on honesty had been intimidating at first but now she had come to crave the crass words that used to make her blush so hard it hurt. “I need it.” She whimpered, her own voice unfamiliar to her as she whined at him to get inside of her. Unbuttoning his trousers and slipping her hand inside, she felt how hot and hard he was on her palm. The tip wetting her skin as she stroked him under the fabric, the other hand trying to push the pants down so he was free of the confines.

“Impatient little thing. I love it.” He grinned, helping her as he balanced over her with one arm. “Can barely let me undress, need to get your beautiful body filled up with me in every way. That’s exactly how I want you every day.” Desperate for him. His hips rubbed into her hand, breathing getting harder as she swiped her thumb over the tip and made him clench his jaw. Her little outfit had been tossed off easily and there was something so dirty about him fucking her almost clothed and her, practically naked. “Put me in, then. You can do it, baby.”

There was that added layer of intimacy that had her preening, sticky lips connecting with hers as she felt his hips lower and gave her that little bit of control. Swiping the tip through her slickness, he inhaled sharply through his nose before she placed him at her entrance, lifting her leg around his waist. His patience was thin, not waiting more than a few moments before sinking into her. Swallowing her whine as he slipped his hand under her neck to hold it, licking into her mouth until he was balls deep in her. Filling her up to the brim with him, making her feel that sort of full that only he could provide.

“God…” Y/N whined, leaning her head back into the bed as Harry pulled out slowly, letting her feel every ridge of his cock before pushing back in hard. “You’re…” it was hard to talk at times when he fucked her. While he could run his mouth, Y/N had her mind scrambled as soon as he slipped into her. His dick made her feel drunk and in love.

“Mhm, I know.” He soothed, though the smug look on his face made his thoughts clear. He loved that she was cockdrunk and fuzzy from her orgasms, wet and soft for him and welcoming his thickness inside of her. It was made for him. “You don’t even have a clue of how much I thought about this, my girl. Don’t even know the filth I’d think of seeing you in those pretty fucking sundresses- fuck.” He growled, the weakness for them evident. She’d noticed it early on, how he’d been exceptionally handsy when she wore them. Maybe she had five new ones since she’d found out- he would see them eventually.

“What did you… what did you think about?” Poking the bear wasn’t usually her thing, but his mouth was sex itself. Being fucked slow and deep as he spoke about his fantasies of her was something she couldn’t pass up.

“Things that are so dirty, it would make you squirm.” He mumbled, grinding himself inside of her. The wet walls around him clenched up as she looked at him with her hazy eyes, fingers tangled in his necklace. “Thought about taking you to his old office and bending you over that desk. Fucking you nice and deep with my hand over your mouth while everyone else was in the pool, go back out with my dick covered in you.” The cunt around him clamped down, alerting him to just how much his girl liked that idea. “You like that? Would you have done it for me, sweet girl? Let me hike up that skirt and make you keep watch at the window to make sure no one was coming inside? Because… I really wouldn’t care if someone heard.”

Y/N knew it was fucked up to like the idea of being caught by her daughters friends while being fucked by one, but he had this way of framing it that made her feel it to her bones. His thick cock hitting the right places as he spoke about a fantasy she wouldn’t mind participating in. “I’d probably be shocked and- and I’d probably let you. It had been so long and you’re so gorgeous…” she swallowed. “I knew you’d be able to fuck me good when I had those hints.”

Those catching glimpses of him eyeing her up, or seeing how he gave her all his attention when she spoke. How he’d always help her out in the kitchen and chat with her while the rest of the group was involved in other things- letting his hand brush her or his body squeeze past her. He’d given signals.

“Fuck.” His head dropped against hers, pulling out and giving a particularly deep thrust, making her clutch his arm. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you like that? Filthy little thing, Mama. You amaze me…” the idea of her being fucked in her ex husband’s home office was a delicious fuck you to him and empowerment to her. Let a man who could properly make her cum and multiple times at that, show her how sexy she was to him.

Y/N connected their lips again as she nudged him, signaling him to let them roll over. Harry was never one to tell her no when she wanted something, let alone when she wanted to ride him. “Would you let me sit in his chair, ride me like this?” Hands grabbed at her plush hips, helping her grind on top of him. “I’d take you anywhere, baby. Make you feel good wherever and however you want. You don’t even know how gone I am for you.”

In some instances Harry’s honesty had her a bit nervous, but when it came to things like this? She was ever so fucking thankful he was an open book with her. There was no shortage of reassurance, no hiding how he felt. The man was as up front and honest as someone could be and after she got over how overwhelming it could be, she relished in how she never had to guess. Harry never made her wonder how he was feeling, if he was mad, if he liked what she was doing. He let her fucking know, loud and clear, and the anxiety she used to experience in her last relationship in that regard was practically nonexistent. “Me too. I am too, I promise.” She nodded, grinding herself down on his cock.

Harry’s thighs and balls were going to be sticky and wet by the time this was done but he was craving that. Having her traces all over his skin was something he had come to look forward to, to look at as another part of the erotic package that was his girl. Hands held her hips as he helped guide her, head tipped back to watch the pleasure flash on her face. “It’s deep, isn’t it Mama?” He crooned. “Do you feel it in there? Fuck, I can see it…” His deep groan echoed in her room as he took his hand and placed it right over her belly. Felt each time she moved on him, his mouth falling open as he tugged her hand to feel it. “Right there. That’s how deep I am. My perfect fuckin’ girl, got me tucked in your belly like that…” His voice was wrecked, trying to ignore how tight it made his balls but that was an impossible feat.

“Oh fuck… Oh fuck, you’re so deep in me.” Y/N sulked, brows furrowing as his hand kept hers on the spot, feeling it each time she sunk back down. “You’re… Harry, please.” Her eyes budding with tears, she rocked hard on his lap and knocked her head against his. “Cum in me, right there. I want it deep, I want it to stay there. Please, please… Please, H.”

The pleading was so fucking hot that he could have keeled over. This object of his affections getting his dick as deep as possible, pleading with him to cum in her cute little tummy and tightening her cunt over him like the idea of it was the best thing her body had ever fathomed… He was the luckiest sonofabitch that got to live. Feeling the silky, scorching walls of her cunt clenching around him like it was begging for the same thing her mouth was, he couldn’t hold it back.

The broken groan left the man’s mouth while she hurriedly humped over him, Whimpering against his cheek, her mouth fell open as she felt each and every ribbon of cum heat her up, slicking up her insides with his orgasm. Her hand fell away and covered his as he felt her grinding get sloppy, her clit rubbing against the thatch of hair right above his cock. It was messy, sloppy, unpracticed, but so fucking good she felt like she could pass out. Repeating his name as she came, her nails scratched over his bicep, using his cock like a toy to work herself through the orgasm.

“There you go, baby. You’re so perfect.” He whispered, pulling her back and licking into her mouth. There was no denying that the man could kiss in any scenario, but when he was balls deep and she was full of his cum, his kisses were some of the hottest she had ever felt. In truth, she hadn’t realized a kiss could be that hot until he’d done it the first time. She whined as he sucked over her tongue, keening into his mouth as her tired body started to slow her grinds and sat with him snug inside of her. Even with a taste of him, she wasn’t properly done with him. “Fuck- stay there. Keep my cock warm.” He muttered, stroking the messy hair from her cheeks with his fingers. His body was sticky with sweat and her arousal, his own mix leaking from her and onto the bed, but there was no rush to go anywhere.

“God.” Y/N exhaled shakily, resting her head against his neck. Words escaped her as she tried not to get too excited again with the weak twitches of his prick she could feel.

“That’s okay, but I prefer Harry.” The smirk was audible in his voice, but she didn’t have the energy to roll her eyes. The large paw of a hand ran up and down her back, the heartbeat still felt in her ears. “I’ll never get tired of that.” The second sentence was sincere. The man always did seem in awe after they finished having sex, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten to this point.

“Me either.” She muttered, keeping her eyes closed as she cuddled into him. He still had the scent of coffee on him, maybe a hint of cigarettes, but the comforting one outweighed the rest of them. Y/N hadn’t had a man like him before but she knew now that he was exactly what she’d been missing. Even if he had grease on his tee shirts, sometimes smelled like oil, and had a bit of a grumpy attitude- he’d always put her first. He’d work with his hands to build up the world for her instead of buying it. He had the skill and follow through to do so. “I wanna do it again.”

“Christ, woman. I’ve made a monster out of you, haven’t I?” His tired chuckle made her grin against his throat, pecking over the hollow of it. “You’re gonna regret that later, but m’not gonna say no.” Flipping her over to lay on her back, her eyes met his again as he smiled down at her. “C’mon, Mama. Tell me what you want me to do next.”

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youremyonlyhope · 2 years

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#not asking for sympathy or well wishes or whatever. my grandmother died on friday.#she was sick for about 2 months. honestly to an extent it's kind of a relief that she's not suffering anymore.#i cried on friday. i haven't cried since. but i've had waves of having to remember she's gone that make me sad.#this is the grandma who taught me to crochet. and basically to cope i've thrown myself into sewing and crocheting and knitting.#i didn't really realize that's what i was doing to cope but now i'm realizing this is what i'm doing.#but literally after getting the text that she was gone i got an email that one of the shows i'm working on fell into chaos #from 2 people catching covid and one losing their voice and having to throw on a bunch of understudies.#but i was like i can't think of that i gotta go be with my family. i can maybe deal with that later.#so after we collected her stuff from the nursing home and sat at home for a few hours i went to that theater to get my mind off of things #and going there and dealing with chaos that wasn't my life made me feel a little better. getting to sew some repairs helped.#the director at one point turned to me and said 'what a day. from 2 understudies to 6.'#and i said 'yeah. i saw your email and i was like this is really the worst day of my life.' but she thought i was joking.#i was sort of joking but sort of not. seeing that email on top of leaving work early to run home was too much for my brain in that moment.#(i also have not told anyone in that show that it happened. they had no clue what my morning had been like.)#then apparently after i left the show before intermission someone ripped a costume. so saturday i went back to the theater #to sew a patch under the tear to fix it. and do a little more fixes.#then i hung out with my brother and his girlfriend and i crocheted while we watched survivor.#and today i finished up a knitting project i started a while ago (Ranger Cowl) and crocheted more stuff for another show.#and now i'm knitting a hat for my brother that i promised him last winter and put off for a while.#so yeah. yay crafts. yay crafting therapy.#(also don't worry. i didn't find out she was gone via text. my brother called me to say it was imminent. then a text 45min later confirmed.)#(and my family has encouraged me to keep working on my various shows through this since it does help me to have things to do)#(my mom had initially wanted me to stay at work friday morning because otherwise we'd just be sitting around feeling sad. but i left.)#(but my supervisor at work and costume head at the other show who do know told me to not come in tomorrow)

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venus-haze · 3 months

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Playing Pretend (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: Homelander’s secret identity is an ill-fated experiment in normalcy for a man who had grown up with anything but. He manages to keep his story straight until he runs into you in the hallway of your building one night, assuming the blood on his face and clothes are his and not the low-level criminals he’d just taken care of. While you’re playing nurse, Homelander’s playing John, but he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the facade around you.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. So Casual!Lander got me thinking about secret identity!Homelander again. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort. Some emotional manipulation, but this is on the fluffier side of things I've written.

Homelander hadn’t expected the blood on his civilian clothes to be much of a problem. It was late, he reported the incident to Vought and would be up a few points when the story hit the news in the morning. Typically, he returned to the Tower when something like this happened, but instead, he was drawn to the apartment he’d been set up with as part of his undercover identity.

A secret identity was exciting at first, a brand new challenge for him. Except he didn’t entirely get it. Wasn’t the point of everything he’d been through so that he could be Homelander? The best of the best, America’s savior? Not some guy named John living in a crappy apartment downtown. But Edgar wanted it, and so it was done.

The apartment itself didn’t feel like home. The pictures on the wall, knick-knacks on the bookshelves, they weren’t his. But the man he was pretending to be had a dizzying backstory that he found difficult to keep track of at first, and then irrationally jealous of once he got the hang of spitting out anecdotes about family barbecues and youth basketball leagues. Stuff everyone else got except for him, apparently, because they were always met with mind-numbingly boring stories of other people’s mirrored experiences that he had to “Oh?” and “Wow!” through like he actually cared.

“John!” You called out from down the hall as he approached, laundry basket in your arms.

He smiled. A real one. At least in all of this, he met you.

“Hey neighbor!” he greeted cheerfully, as if it were bright and early and not nearly midnight.

“What are you—” Your face twisted as he approached. Your heart thumped almost deafeningly. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“What?”

“John, you’re bleeding. Let me take you to the emergency room.”

“That’s not necessary. I–I don’t like doctors,” he said, the statement not feeling as much like a lie as he thought. “Most of it isn’t even mine.”

“I have a first aid kit in my bathroom. At least let me clean you up a little?”

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed.

You practically kicked open the door to your place, throwing your laundry basket aside and making a beeline for the bathroom like his life depended on it. If he were anyone else, it probably would have. He caught his warped reflection in your stainless steel refrigerator and cringed a bit. It did look pretty bad.

He inexplicably tensed upon seeing you return with the first aid kit, your brows knit together in worry.

“Sit, please,” you urged as you laid out the contents of the kit on your kitchen table. “Oh John, what happened?”

“You know me, I always gotta get the story,” he said, his cover as a crime reporter not having failed him yet.

Your eyes watered as you looked at him. “One of these days you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“What I’m doing helps people. It saves lives. That’s worth it to me.”

You picked up a cotton ball soaked in peroxide. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He hesitated. That kind of thing had never been up to him. It either hurt or it didn’t, and if it didn’t hurt, they’d find out how to make it so it did.

“Okay,” he said, tense as your hand approached his face.

Even thinking about the doctors he grew up with made an ugly pit settle heavy in his stomach. But you weren’t a doctor. You were you, and it was cute how you played nurse. Tended to his wounds like they were real, like the blood was his. Did you notice how quickly they disappeared beneath your cotton-padded touch, leaving no trace of cut or bruise behind?

“It looks a lot worse than it is, don’t worry,” you assured him.

“That’s good.”

He had plenty of practice sitting patiently while being poked and prodded, but never with the unnecessary care you used.

He wanted to tell you. But then it’d defeat the purpose of a secret identity. Besides, just outright telling you wouldn’t be the grand, romantic gesture he pictured.

Late at night. You. Alone in the city for god knows what reason even though you know better. He’s told you enough that you should know better. It wouldn’t matter. Because he’d be there. The Homelander swooping in to save you from some thug on the street. It’d be then that you’d see him for who he really was, who he was made to be instead of the pitiful facade you were presently tending to. So taken by the act, by him, your hero, you’d melt in his arms and let him take you away from the hovel of an apartment building you two shared and into bliss.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed, dabbing just above his eyebrow with a cotton ball. “I’m almost done.”

Sorry? Oh. You thought you hurt him. “I told you, I can take it.”

“I still feel bad,” you said. “Did you go to the police?”

“No, you know I usually don’t bother with that. Interferes with my own investigations,” he said.

You pursed your lips. You didn’t quite believe him, or were at least frustrated with his lack of personal safety. Worrying you wasn’t something he wanted to be in the habit of, but you poured out attention and care for him in such a way he could feel himself itching for more. It’d been like that since he first met you, the only kind and welcoming person in the damn building. Perhaps that was why he kept up with his secret identity for so much longer than he wanted to, his attachment to you, to this fake life he led with you in it.

But he could just as easily make a new one, a better one for the both of you once you knew the truth.

“You made out alright, John,” you said, glancing over his face. “Really well, actually. It doesn’t even look like anything happened.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” he joked, hoping to dissipate some of your suspicion.

He heard you swallow roughly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

You reached out, caressing his cheek. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it.”

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments, and you began to pull your hand away from his face until he caught your wrist and spoke your name softly.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” you asked.

He hesitated a moment. I’m The Homelander. Instead, he pulled you closer, his gaze falling to your lips before kissing you.

You kissed him back softly, with an otherwise foreign tenderness that made him especially conscious of how he held you. His physical control was better, almost perfect. No more accidental bone breaking or spine snapping. He wouldn’t be The Homelander if he couldn’t control himself.

But it was hard, with how deeply he felt for you, how much his emotions threatened to overtake years of practice and conditioning to manage his sheer strength. The Homelander didn’t have any weaknesses—save for seeing through zinc—but he was certain none of the scientists who poked and prodded him for years on end would have ever bet on you.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander #homelander the boys #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #homelander imagine

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 3 months

Note

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.”

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy.

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it.

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively.

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.”

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?”

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think.

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron.

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine.

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?”

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows.

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder.

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness.

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -”

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

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thatlittlered · 4 months

Text

would've, could've, should've | aaron hotchner

warning(s): one whole curse word, smoking, stunning amount of fluff and a little bit of action

GIF by @littlecarmine

part one

part two

author's note: Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it! I also want to thank the sweet anon for the ask with the Robert Siken poem, which I included here. Next part will be straight-up filthy smut, so stay tuned, fellow sluts.

Follow me @MadeofLilies on Ao3 and let me know if you want to be tagged here.

-.-.-

You don’t see much of each other for the next couple of days. Aaron is on autopilot, avoiding any chance to be alone with you. The rest of the team unknowingly act as a buffer and all he has to do is not look at you during work hours, keep the door to his office shut to not hear your laughter.

It’s a relief when you and Morgan are called to testify in court for a case. You’re somewhere far away for the day, where he knows you’re safe and he can go back to pretending nothing has changed.

The problems start when he’s not being kept busy.

How much paperwork can one person do?

The stars align oddly in his favor and he’s into calls or meetings until long after everyone else has gone home. When ten pm rolls around, he finally calls it quits but sees no point in leaving in a hurry. It’s past Jack’s bed time, it’d be cruel to wake him up now and carry him back home when tomorrow’s Sunday. If all goes well, he can pick him in the morning and they’ll get to spend the day together.

His finger is hovering over Jessica’s number when he spots your name in his call logs. It’s silly and childish, but he hasn’t thought of you in a couple of hours and God.

Deep down, he knows he’s been incredibly unfair to you. He had to. Had to tell himself it was something outside of him causing him torment. An obstacle to overcome, a distraction to ignore. He had to act as if you were forcing your way into his life in order to be able to put up walls, but what have you really done except exist near him? He is the one to blame for allowing it to grow beneath his skin; succumbing to his need for some sort of intimacy when he could have -should have- nipped this at the bud a very long time ago. He recognized it within himself the other day, when he realized he could have -should have- kissed you.

But nothing is healed with a kiss. Only new grievances arise.

It’s where you go from there that matters and he finds himself unable to guide or be guided.

Where do you go from here?

When he decides to feed his insomnia with a cup of late-night coffee, he is yet again reminded of you. So, he calls, but you don’t answer and he pours another, completely indifferent to the idea of sleep.

It’s getting too late to be here, even by his standards. He tries calling again, but, no answer. He gathers his stuff to leave and there is a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach when he settles inside the car. It’s only eleven and you always say you never sleep this early.

Another call, this time to Emily, who miraculously, picks up.

“Hello? Hotch?”

There is a deafening buzz in the background; loud voices and music blasting.

Aaron apologizes for the late hour and tries to be discreet when he asks about you. Says he needs to go over something about a case file but you won’t answer his calls and he got worried.

“Yeah, she’s fine, she’s right here with me, but it’s a little hard to get her right now. Is it urgent?”

“Uh, no, don’t bother her. Is everyone else there too?”

“Not everyone, just the two of us, Garcia and Morgan. Do you need them as well?”

You didn’t invite him, why would you? He would have never said yes.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sir, I can’t make out much with all this noise. We’re at the ‘Matter’ if you need us. I’ll tell the guys to call you as soon as they can, okay? Have a good night.”

So, he drives two miles a little before midnight to come sit outside ‘Matter’, which is apparently a very busy nightclub downtown, half a mile away from the nearest parking spot he could find.

He doesn’t really know why he came.

He can’t come in and join you. Can’t ask for you.

They probably wouldn’t even let him in while dressed like this.

It’s very unclear what the next step is.

He knows it’s pointless to call you again when you’re probably too busy dancing and drinking with a great many people who are not him. Morgan has some trouble keeping his hands to himself when he drinks.

He sits on the curb of the street, cracks open the pack of cigarettes he snack out of the car’s glove compartment, always hidden below the insurance papers. Astoundingly loud music plays every time the doors to the club open and people come out stumbling, kissing sloppily and dragging each other away.

He just wants to see you and put this horrible feeling inside him to rest.

“No fucking way.”

He jolts at the sound of your voice and throws away the cigarette, putting it out with his shoe before he turns to see you standing outside the club. You approach timidly until you can be sure it’s him and when you step closer to the streetlight, he can really see you. The clothes you could never wear to work, the shoes you apparently spend all your money on. You’re beautiful.

He can’t possibly move until you’re sat beside him. For the first time in what seems like forever, now that he’s grown so used to it, you keep a very respectable distance between your bodies.

“You didn’t have to throw it away; I already saw you and,” you pick up the abandoned carton from the sidewalk and almost laugh at how immaculate it looks just having been opened, “I have so many questions. Since when do you smoke?”

His voice is quiet, unamused.

“Almost never.”

You look at him curiously and he thinks you would make a great interrogator simply by the way you make everyone around you spill their souls out if it will satisfy you.

“Sometimes when I’m very stressed.”

You hum, “I never would have guessed that.”

He laughs to himself and looks at his hands.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of things that are not typical of me lately.”

You help yourself to a cigarette and he cups his hand over yours when the breeze makes it too hard to light up.

“Is that because of me? Am I a bad influence?”

“No. It’s me, I’m the common denominator.”

You hum again and smile at him teasingly in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Breakthrough.”

“So, this is what therapy is like?”

He wants to thank you, for always trying to make things as easy as possible for him. You open the door and difficult as it may seem, all he really has to do is walk through it.

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t smoke in session.”

“Oh good.”

You’re sitting closer again and Aaron doesn’t know how. He doesn’t think either of you moved. He keeps his eyes on the road in front of him, glances at you only from the corner of his eye. Your perfume mingles with the smoke of the cigarette and it’s all a haze to him.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I needed a breath; it was very loud and packed in there… and I finally saw your calls.”

He hums, unable to find anything else to say.

“Why are you here?

“I don’t know.”

He knows that is not a good enough of an answer.

“I always have this terrible feeling that something is going to happen to you.”

Your shoulder touches his and he can admire the smoothness of it, focus on each mark there to avoid the dreaded eye contact.

“Do you think that fear is reasonable, or is it rooted in something else?’

His eyes shut tightly, “Don’t do that, please. Don’t talk to me like I’m a subject.”

“You use your ‘agent tone’ all the time outside of work.”

His voice deepens, “I am aware.”

Heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry I did all that and then backed out at the last minute.”

“It’s alright. I think I knew you would.”

“See, that’s even worse.”

You look at his suit, the wrinkles that have formed in the shirt underneath from the hours of wear.

“Did you come here straight from the office?”

A sigh, “Yeah.”

You nod your head in understanding and move to put out what’s left of the cigarette.

“I’m alright. I’ve got the others too; they’ll take me home. You can relax now.”

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You don’t know what to say really. If what he needs is time, you can give it, but he seems undecided as well when he picks up your hand.

“I think I’m scared of what will happen once the line is crossed.”

A confession.

That, you did not expect.

“Aside from the complications at work, I just,” his hand rubs gently on the spot your watch has left its mark, “I have proved time and time again that I can’t handle any relationship beyond professionalism and once we stop being just colleagues, I will lose you completely from my life.”

“Do you think that line has not been crossed already?”

He laughs quietly.

You can both feel the bouncer looking at you and Aaron is suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now.

“I guess it has.”

You’re both quiet for a little while.

“I have to go back inside now, or they’ll start getting worried.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but no words leave his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them you were here.”

That hurt. You know it, but what else was there to say?

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll know.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before you leave and he’s left staring while you go back inside.

-.-.-

A little past two, the girls drop you off in a shared cub before going their separate ways and you rush to your apartment building, only to find Aaron waiting there.

“Well, you certainly have a thing for sitting on curbs.”

He looks tired, so tired, and alone in the empty street. It’s very hard to maintain your position when he always looks this beaten down in his most tender moments. You wish to care for him, love him back into happiness but that wouldn’t be fair.

Still, you can’t help but go to him and he is relieved that you sit closer this time.

“Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

You softly take his right hand to look at his watch. His body relaxes at the touch.

“Huh.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little more drunk than the last time you saw me.”

Your skin glows under the soft moonlight and he notices.

It is technically tomorrow now.

“How drunk?”

His face moves closer and you can’t help but shiver at the sudden change. His breath is warm on your face. The words come out in a whisper.

“Not that much.”

That’s all it takes.

His lips press against yours once… then twice and then… he doesn’t stop.

You always thought he’d be one to kiss carefully and with absolute purpose, just like he does everything else, but he kisses like a man on fire. He seeks to quench something deep inside of him and you provide happily. The remnants of your lip gloss tingle on his mouth, as if kissing you alone is not enough of an awakening.

It’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with breathing when he envelops you so, and cages you in the pleasant whirl of his scent. When you break away for breath, he’s quick to capture you once more. His hands come to your face to keep you there until he’s had enough, but how he can he ever have enough of you?

He only lets you go because he has to. You’re both practically panting and he can’t decide what to do. He wants to kiss you, look at you, touch you, but it cannot all be done at once. When your own hand comes to his face just below his jawline, he melts under the touch. His eyes are sunken, his body is begging for rest, but it would not come without you.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

His voice is low and breathy when he nods.

“Yeah…”

-.-.-

You walk upstairs, hand in hand, and Aaron can see your own exhaustion is taking over. Something started with that first touch. Your bodies wish only to find comfort near each other.

His breath is warm on your neck while you open the door, his hands softly placed on your waist with the excuse of keeping you steady. When you move to take off your shoes, he is behind you again, as if tied to you with invisible thread, and holds you gently by the elbow when he sees you struggling.

You’re suddenly very aware he is in your house again. Touching you.

“Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head no, but you’re too focused on the way his hand moves languidly up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

He is so caring. So soft below the austere guise.

“I just need to take a shower,” you almost stumble backward and he thinks it’s the alcohol, but it might just be the feeling of his hands on your face, “I must have fifty different people’s sweat on me right now.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

His voice is soft – tired.

You turn on the lights for him in the living room and he gives a half-smile when you check on him again.

“I won’t be long.”

Once left alone, he gets to look around your house. He sees your carefully assorted nick-knacks and smiles at the framed pictures all over your bookshelves. He can’t help but notice you’ve chosen one, if not the only, photo of the team that he’s also part of.

He is important to you too.

He can see you in every corner of the room, in the books you buy and the realistic-looking-but-admittedly-fake plants sprinkled here and there for a lack of time to take care of any real ones. He can even see you in the soft material of the couch when he sits and lets his cheek touch the fabric. He has been here before in a dream, with your head in his lap.

The room is awfully quiet save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of running water in the background. For a man that’s usually so good at sitting alone with his thoughts, he suddenly can’t stand it.

He knocks gently on the bathroom door and opens it slowly, only to be hit with the dizzying cloud of warm steam. Your head peeks behind the shower curtain and he can tell you got tired of standing and sat in the tub instead.

“Is it okay if I sit in here with you?”

You thought he’d sit on the toilet seat, but he crawls to the edge of the tub and sits on the bathmat with his back to you.

How close is close enough?

Now that he’s ventured, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satisfied.

So, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the, now warm, porcelain.

“Aaron.”

He doesn’t know if he actually fell asleep, but the water is now turned off and you’re looking at him. He realizes now, for the first time, that you’re naked behind him. Your hair and eyelashes are angelically wet, the sheen of water on your flushed skin is divine. He knows that you’d be warm if he touched you now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

You smile at him -siren- and your hand grabs a handful of his shirt, staining it with water that reaches his body underneath and makes him shiver. You kiss him with plump wet lips and he reaches for you. His hand entangles in your hair until you’re both practically pulling at each other.

A less enamored man would have broken away just to sneak a peek at your bare skin, but he won’t. He is respectful even now, even like this.

“I should have kissed you the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

It’s a whisper when his mouth leaves yours, but you catch it.

You hum, eyes glossy, “Would've, could've, should’ve.”

What matters is now.

He kisses you again – just one more time. You both feel like giddy, lovesick children.

“Can you hand me my bathrobe?”

The bathrobe is also impossibly soft to the touch and when you emerge clad in it, he thinks he’d like to hold you. The spell of the warm steam is broken outside, however, and being so close to your naked body suddenly becomes very serious.

You let him sit in your bed, still fully clothed, save for his suit jacket, and he closes his eyes again. The comforter underneath is lovely.

Is everything in this house soft?

Is this what it feels like to be loved by you?

You disappear inside the walk-in closet and reappear, now properly dressed in your pajamas. The bed dips when you sit next to him and he turns to you completely.

“I have a T-shirt you can sleep in, don’t know about pants though.”

Please. Just be here, with him.

He watches you leave, but it’s not long before you return with the aforementioned shirt. You laugh when he finally realizes he’ll have to sleep in his boxers.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He throws a teasing look, but can’t possibly come up with a clever answer right now.

“I’ll go dry my hair and you can get dressed, alright?”

You are so gentle with your guidance that it makes him feel like a helpless child, but there’s a hidden relief at that. It’s nice; being cared for like this and there is something to be said about parallels, with you going now to do as you had done a week and a half ago in a Florida hotel and him waiting for you – on your bed.

It’s the same, but it’s different.

He hangs his work clothes carefully on the chair in the corner of your room and goes to sit on the bed, but feels too uncomfortable to climb under the covers. He knows you’d find his duality funny; how he goes from hungrily kissing you to being too embarrassed to join you in bed, even if it’s only for sleep.

You notice his stiffness when you come back in the room, but don’t say anything. It’s not exactly easy for you either, you’re just better at hiding it than he is. You choose to lead by example instead and turn off the lights before reaching for the one on your nightstand and climbing inside your bedding.

He only speaks to deflect attention from him again, “You have a TV in your room.”

“Jealous?”

He turns to look at you and you’re perched up on the plump pillows, smiling at him. Your hand reaches for his own over the comforter and you gently pull him to you.

He comes, of course.

“I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He joins you with his back on the pillows and his shoulder touching yours, but he’s still too stiff.

“What do you watch?”

“Mostly reruns of sitcoms-,” he laughs at that, “-Seinfeld.”

“Isn’t that show a thousand years old?

“You would know.”

He laughs again and you can almost make out a wounded pout on his face, but a kiss is enough of a cure. His shoulders relax and he gives in to the warmth and softness; be it the bed or you next to him. You can tell he’s barely managing to stay awake, but he still can’t let go completely. His head slumps backward again.

“Can we turn it on?”

You find the courage to caress his hair, admiring the softness of it and the discreet sprinkle of grey that you can only see up close.

“If you want.”

The quiet humming of the television and your breath in his ear, putting his mind to ease, are enough for him to finally sleep and you’re not long behind. His head is turned to the side where you are, hand tightly holding yours.

Later in the night, when you stir in your sleep, he pulls you further into him – wraps his arm around you completely and doesn’t let go.

next part

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #thomas gibson

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joelalorian · 5 months

Text

Fall Into Me - Chapter Six: And I Knew My Heart Wasn't Mine

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling in love. Finally some smut-ish stuff. Dry humping on the couch. Joel is his own warning. Tommy keeping it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

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Chapter Five | Main Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, you reviewed an email on your phone from the Texas Education Agency. Relief washed over you. The State Board finally approved your certification after jumping through a million hoops, just in time for your upcoming meeting at Sarah’s school.

Yet another step closer to finally feeling like an actual adult contributing to society.

“Morning, Spud,” your dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. “You’re up early. Did you have fun with Sarah yesterday?”

“I figured I’d seize the day and all that. I had a blast yesterday! Sarah is so smart, and Joel was really nice, as always,” you replied, playing down quite how much of a roll Joel had in making the day so enjoyable. You still couldn’t believe how things worked out.

Joel Miller, dead sexy single father, liked you, wanted to be with you. Little morsels of doubt tried to weasel their way into your mind, trying to make you question what was so special about you that a man like Joel would be interested in. You shook those thoughts away, resolving to believe that you deserved someone like him, someone who liked you for who you were and not who they wanted you to be.

“He comes from good stock, that Joel,” your dad interrupted you’re wandering thoughts. “Not sure what happened with Tommy, though. Musta been dropped on his head as a baby or somethin’.”

“Dad!” you laughed, shaking your head. “There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s young, single, and unburdened by responsibility. I imagine you were like that once upon a time.”

“Musta been so long ago I can’t remember,” he replied, hip checking you into the counter when you stood to place your glass in the sink. “Watch yourself there, Spud.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” you replied with an amused eye roll. Your dad watched as you tidied up your little mess from breakfast and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You know, Spud. You’d do well to find a man like Joel. He’s a really good guy. Shame he doesn’t date. All the women go crazy over him.”

Your dad kept going on about Joel’s aversion to dating, but your mind froze on that one simple statement – you’d do well to find a man like Joel. You tuned back in just in time to hear him say, “He needs to settle down with a girl like you. Someone smart and responsible who’ll still give him a run for his money.”

Practically bursting with the urge to admit that you and Joel just officially started seeing each other, you curled your lips between your teeth and just nodded. You promised Joel you’d wait a bit before mentioning anything to your dad and you planned on keeping that promise. “He should be so lucky to find someone like me,” you sassed finally.

The day carried on as you spent some quality time with your dad watching TV and lounging around. It was refreshing and relaxing, reminding you of times past where the two of you spent a bunch of time together.

The urge to text you plagued Joel all day Sunday, distracting his attention from the football game until Tommy finally snatched the phone out of his hands and hid it.

“Enough, brother. You’re like a lovesick fool checking your phone every five fuckin’ seconds. You just spent the day together yesterday. Give her a little breathin’ room,” Tommy chastised. “Women like a little mystery after all.”

Flopping back into the couch cushions with a huff, Joel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to play games with her, Tommy. None of that aloof, hard to get bullshit.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waited until a commercial break to turn to his brother again. “I’m not sayin’ to play games. I’m just sayin’ you don’t need to be up her ass 24/7. You’ll see her every day this week. It’s ok to build up a little healthy anticipation today.”

Joel knew his brother had a point. He just couldn’t help himself. It’d been so long since he felt like this about someone – if he ever really did before – and it was messing with his head. Berating himself for not even kissing you yesterday, Joel wanted to at least text with you today. It felt somehow wrong to not talk to you.

Then again, you hadn’t texted him either.

Tommy made a valiant effort to distract Joel from his thoughts, talking statistics about the game and the players, anything to get the guy talking. It only worked for so long before Tommy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, how ‘bout this. I’ll take Sarah for a dinner and ice cream date tomorrow so you two can spend some time alone. Get a little action in and maybe that’ll help you get your head out of the clouds.”

For the first time in hours, Joel’s face lit up. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Tommy replied. “You two need to figure out if there’s something there and you can’t do that with a ten-year-old hanging around all the time. Not unless you want to scar her for life.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to take his phone back. Before letting go of it, Tommy grinned. “I already texted her for you. You’re welcome.”

Ripping his phone out of his brother’s hand, Joel scrolled through his text messages to find what Tommy sent you.

JM: Hey sweetheart. Netflix and chill tomorrow?

He only knew what that meant because of Tommy and you had to know that wasn’t something Joel would say. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!” Joel growled, his ears turning red from what you must think. He was about to really lay into his brother for overstepping when you responded.

You: Netflix and chill, huh? Sounds like my kinda date 😉

Not expecting that response, Joel chuckled. Maybe Tommy knew exactly what he was doing after all.

“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he saw the goofy smile on his brother’s face.

Joel ignored him, proceeding to ask you about your day. The two of you texted back and forth well into the night until it was time for bed.

Climbing between the cold sheets of his large, empty bed, Joel wished you were there with him. He could already imagine you there, falling asleep together after a romp or two, waking up next to you in the morning. It sounded like heaven to him.

Hmm, maybe he could Netflix and chill his way to convincing you to spend the night tomorrow.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked into Joel’s house Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered Joel, knelt on the floor, staring down at a mess of pancake mix surrounding him and Sarah giggling her little heart out at the breakfast table.

“What happened here?” you asked, hands on your hips and eyes surveying the damage. “Did you have a fight with the boxed pancake mix.”

“He really did!” Sarah exclaimed, still laughing. “It went everywhere!”

“I see that,” you replied, grinning at her before turning back to Joel.

He stared up at you with wide, sad eyes and shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get it open and then it just…” His arms spread wide, gesturing at the powdery mess on the tile in such an endearing way. You couldn’t stop your smile from growing wider.

“Go finish getting ready for work. I’ll get Sarah some cereal and clean this mess up,” you directed, gently pulling him to his feet and around the mess.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess, sweetheart,” Joel replied, pulling you in for a hug. You could tell the warm press of your bodies together made him feel better and you basked in it as well, not minding the bit of pancake mix that transferred to your clothes.

“Don’t worry, I got it. Now git!” One hand swatted at his ass playfully as he rushed out of the room. “Now, what kind of cereal do you want, nugget?”

Fifteen minutes later, Joel returned to find the mess gone and you running a mop over the tile to wipe away any last remnants of the pancake mix disaster. Sarah already finished her cereal and was upstairs brushing her teeth before it was time to head to school. When you put the mop back into the bucket, Joel crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down your arms. Joel pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear and left a trail of kisses down your neck. The feel of his lips on your skin exceeded any expectations you had, and a contented sigh left your own lips.

With a hurried tenderness, he spun you around in his arms, the mop forgotten as it nearly fell out of the bucket. Faces close together now, your eyes drank in every detail of him from the richness of his dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose, the purposeful stubble of his beard, and, finally, to the fullness of his bottom lip. You could feel his eyes doing the same, drinking in every bit of your face before tilting his head impossibly closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Joel murmured; lips nearly pressed to yours already and you hummed in approval.

After all the weeks of mutual pining and self-doubt, Joel finally kissed you. It started as a soft press of lips and quickly morphed into an overwhelming need to devour each other when his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, begging entry to deepen the kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues tangled as you tasted each other – somehow, the taste of coffee was suddenly appealing when it came from Joel’s mouth.

Hands wandered – his over your curves and yours into his luscious, dark curls. Joel’s hair felt as silky as it looked, and you had been itching to get your fingers in it from the moment you met him.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps bouncing down the stairs broke the two of you apart, breathless, and dazed.

“Wow,” Joel murmured, struggling to remove his hands from your waist.

You smiled up at him, equally unwilling to remove your fingers from his hair. “Exactly,” you whispered, stepping back with your hands at your side just as Sarah entered the kitchen.

“I’m ready!” she declared excitedly and you both grinned at her cuteness.

“Okay, nugget. Let’s head out.”

Heart melting in your chest, you watched Joel and Sarah do their morning routine of saying goodbye. The love between the two of them was so strong it was like a tangible thing you could hold in your hands. Nostalgia washed over you as memories of your own childhood, moments like this with your dad, flooded your mind. What you had with your dad, what Joel and Sarah had together, was a connection that would never fade, only grow stronger with time.

Briefly, you wondered if your evolving relationship with Joel would affect that connection, interfere with it in anyway. You couldn’t move forward with him if that was the case. Some woman showing up and changing the dynamic between you and your dad would have upset you as a child and you refused to be the cause of any upset Sarah felt.

When the two of them stepped back from their hug and grinned at you, any question about your place in their dynamic washed down the drain. You felt nearly dizzy with relief when Sarah quickly said, “Give her a hug, too, Daddy,” and shoved him as hard as she could in your direction.

With a chuckle, Joel gave in to Sarah’s demand, wrapping his arms around you. The broadness of him surrounded you, enveloping you in warmth and a sense of security you’d not experienced before. Was that what love felt like?

“Have a good day, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” Joel’s deep voice was but a whisper in your ear, his lips just grazing your earlobe. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Warmth raced up your neck to your cheeks and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of what you hoped would happen later. “You have a good day too, Joel. Be careful, ok?”

“Always, darlin’.” He winked as you led Sarah out the front door to your car.

The journey to Sarah’s school started off quietly, Sarah bopping along to the music on the radio as you navigated the morning traffic. Your thoughts wandered to what you should wear later when Sarah startled you with a sudden question.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend now?”

She asked the question so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure how to respond. Would she be upset with whatever answer you gave? Was there even a right or wrong answer? What did she want to hear? Mind racing, you settled on asking Sarah a question in return.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

Tilting her head side to side a few times, the little girl contemplated her answer while you held your breath. She turned to you with a smile so big it scrunched up her nose. “Nope! It’d make me really happy.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline.

“Uh huh. You’re the coolest and prettiest. My dad would be lucky if you were his girlfriend,” Sarah admitted with all the confidence and knowledge of a ten-year-old. Another head tilt and she added, “So, are you?”

Equal parts amazed and grateful for Sarah’s acceptance of the idea, you opted for honesty. “I mean, I don’t know,” you shrugged. How could you explain what you had to a 10-year-old? “We haven’t talked about naming it yet, but we did decide to see how we like being together. Does that make sense?”

Sarah gave it a moment of thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s kinda like how you’re a teacher, but not officially until you get the job, right?”

You laughed at the comparison with a nod. “Exactly. I’m as good as your dad’s girlfriend, we just haven’t made titles official yet.” You pulled up in front of the school and it was Sarah’s turn to get out. “Now get going, nugget. Have a good day!”

The little girl bounced out of the car, calling out to one of her friends. Just before you pulled away, you heard Sarah tell the other girl that you were her dad’s not-yet girlfriend.

The day absolutely dragged. Joel could swear that time went backwards every time he looked at a clock. It didn’t help that every single subcontractor gave him a hard time about something today.

The roof trusses arrived six weeks early and the sub refused to take them back even though the damn things would rot before they got to the roofing phase of construction. The company he rented the extra backhoe from wanted to raise their rates in the middle of his contract. The list went on and Joel ran out of patience three hours ago.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of you. Spending time with you. Kissing you. Touching you. Burying himself inside you… He adjusted himself with a sigh. Damn, he needed to put those particular thoughts on ice before he got himself riled up. The workday was shitty enough, he didn’t need the guys giving him a hard time about an untimely chub in his pants.

Finally, Joel had enough of everyone’s bullshit and called it a day, leaving his foreman in charge of the worksite.

“Off to doll yourself up, are ya?” Tommy teased as Joel headed for his truck. Gesturing in the general direction of Joel’s crotch, he added, “You remember how to use that thing? Make sure to clear out the cobwebs and use protection!”

“Jesus, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, climbing into his truck, and driving off. He knew his brother was only teasing, but Joel was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t need Tommy getting in his head. He did have a point about protection, though.

A quick stop at the convenience store to grab a box of condoms, Joel made it home before you and Sarah. Putting on some 90s rock, he jumped in the shower, putting in the extra effort to tidy himself up down there. He wondered if you preferred pubic hair or not. Fearing he was getting way ahead of himself, Joel opted to just trim his down and hoped for the best.

By the time he finished trimming his facial hair and tousling his curls, you and Sarah were downstairs, working on her homework. As he walked down the stairs, Joel could hear you encouraging his daughter to think the questions through and congratulating her when she got the answers right. His heart grew three sizes watching how you were with Sarah. You held his whole world in the palm of your hand and treasured it like the precious cargo it was.

Joel was falling so hard for you. You were quickly gaining the power to destroy him.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called out when she spotted him in the doorway. “We just finished my math homework. Can I play in the backyard?”

He set up a tire swing on the large live oak out back a week ago and it quickly became his little girl’s happy place. “Of course, nugget. Come give your old man a hug first.” Bending down, Joel swept Sarah up in his arms, biceps stretching his shirt sleeves as he swung her around in a circle. Sarah’s laughter echoed through the room, and you smiled sweetly at the pair of them.

“Uncle Tommy’s coming to take you out for dinner and ice cream in a bit. Ok?” Sarah nodded when he settled her back on her feet and raced for the sliding door. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Joel turned to you. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he said, voice deep and velvety.

Your body followed his command without conscious thought, so great the need to be in his arms. “I thought about you all day,” you admitted, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Me, too. Could hardly focus on the job thinking about you and spending this evening together.” He tightened his arms around you, head bending to seal his lips to yours. When your lips parted at his prompting, Joel teased your plush bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s like a tasty little gummy worm,” he teased. “I could nibble on it all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, the little breathless sound music to his ears.

The kiss deepened until you were licking into each other’s mouths, hands wandering and grasping for purchase on any piece of real estate you could reach. Neither of you heard the front door open or the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” he asked cheekily as the two of you sprang apart, disheveled and gasping for breath.

Joel ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “Excellent timing as always, brother.”

“Y’all just couldn’t wait five more minutes, could ya?” Tommy’s grin a mile wide as he teased. “Lemme get the nugget out of here before you two scar her for life.”

You tucked your face into Joel’s shoulder bashfully when Tommy slipped through the sliding door. Joel groaned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t mind him, darlin’. He just likes to bust my balls.”

Ten minutes later, after some hugs from Sarah and more teasing from Tommy, you and Joel were alone. Taking your hand, he led you to the couch. He hoped you didn’t notice that his rough palms were sweaty with nerves. You were abnormally quiet, and he wondered if you were nervous as well.

Seated a few inches apart, the tension became too much. “What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up Netflix on the TV. He barely logged into his account when you suddenly straddled his lap.

“Hi,” you said when he stared at you in surprise. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

“What?” He barely got his mouth to form the word, his brain short circuiting with you in his lap. His grip on the remote loosened, yet neither of you cared when it fell to the ground.

“You.”

There was a moment where you both froze, each waiting for the other to act first. Then the tension snapped, and Joel’s lips crashed against yours. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Tongues tangled in a never-ending dance as your hips tilted, grinding down on him. Joel was uncomfortably hard in moments, pressing up against your warmth.

His hands were everywhere, fingers tenderly tracing the structure of your cheekbones, down the curve of your neck, along the swell of your breasts. They finally settled, grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth, hips bucking in search of more friction.

Gasping for breath, Joel tore his mouth from yours, his hands urging your hips into a rhythm as you dry humped him. His mouth left a trail of scorching kisses down your neck, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to flow down your arms. Your hips rocked, gliding across his hardened length and Joel swore he could feel your wetness breaching through the layer of clothes separating you.

Fuck, how he wanted to taste you, get high on your sweet nectar. He knew, just knew in that primal way, that yours would be the best pussy he ever tasted. His cock swelled impossibly harder at the mere thought of burying his face between your legs.

“Jooooeeelllll.” His name coming from your luscious lips in a drawn-out moan caused his own hips to buck up into you, hitting just the right spot to make you both see stars from the friction alone. His mouth sucked little marks into your neck, leaving his left ear exposed to your mouth as crooned, “I’m gonna come, fuck. You’re gonna make me come in my panties, Joel.”

“Fuck, darlin’. Come all over me, pretty girl. I want to see you fall apart from grinding on me like this. Drench those panties.” Joel sat back a little, just enough to watch your face as your orgasm swept over you. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’ as you trembled above him, delicate hands clenching the meat of his shoulders for balance. A little sheen of sweat dusted your hairline. Fucking beautiful.

Joel was absolutely certain he could feel you drenching his pants as you came, your breath finally coming back in a sharp exhale. He had never been so turned on in his life. Watching you come apart for him, feeling it seep through the layers of clothing became too much. For the first time in his adult life, Joel Miller came in his pants with a desperate whimper.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981 @marirxse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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cosmiiwrites · 5 months

Note

OKAY SO I HAVE AN IDEA. What about established relationship domestic fluff with Adam?? Like waking up in the morning cooking breakfast that kind of stuff (I AM STARVED OF HAPPY ADAM CONTENT)

˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ domestic life

.ೃ࿐ adam x reader .ೃ࿐

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ hc/drabble: how adam would be like as a domestic partner cw: cussing, fluff, established relationship, reader is lwk fem coded a/n: ME TOO ANON. ME TOO. sorry for the hold up on the adam fics btw😭🙏

alright SOO

if you're in a relationship with adam, you obviously mean a lot to him

sure, he brags about his groupies and hookups all the time, but he's never actually been in a serious relationship with any of them

and he never stays in contact with them unless he needs a quick orgasm

without a doubt he drops them all for you

so when you’re dating him, let alone living with him, you’re a lot more than a good fuck

at first, waking up and adam being the first thing you see in the morning took you a while to get used to

you’d always find an arm slung around your waist when you woke up, stopping you from leaving the bed

you found it cute at first, but it started to get annoying when adam literally would not let you get up

“adam, hon, babe, love of my life, i gotta get ready for work,” you yawned. “adaaam,” whining his name clearly did not work. unfazed, the angel only tightened his hold on you. his face buried itself deeper into the crook of your neck. “c’mon, sera won’t be happy if you’re late for the fourth time this week…” you reminded him.

“i don’t give a shit,” adam groaned, voice muffled and barely audible. you loved his morning voice: husky, low, less insufferable. “i jus’ wanna be here with you. i don’t want to hear sera’s bitching this early in the morning…” his last sentence made you laugh, earning you an annoyed growl. “fine, i guess that’s fair.”

you settled more into your shared bed, one arm slinging around adam’s neck while the other combed through his hair. adam gave you a low groan in response. “mmh… could just stay here in bed all day, with you, y’know?” usually, you would object, but this time you gave it some thought. laying in bed with your boyfriend, cuddling all day? hm. you let out a defeated sigh.

“…fine.”

“fuck yeah!”

you had actually found a way to let adam release you from the bed without him bitching about you “abandoning him”

that is, by cooking him bomb ass breakfast

the first time you cooked him breakfast was when he was deep in sleep and you were able to sneak your way out of his grasp

he wasn’t happy about you not being in bed with him, but your cooking made up for it.

an unfamiliar smell woke up adam. “[name], what the fuck is that sme- [NAME]?!” he frantically looked around for you, scanning the bedroom, the bathroom, he even checked the closet. this dumbass didnt even try following the smell. finally, adam found you in the kitchen, back facing towards him as you flipped pancakes.

he gave out a sigh of relief. almost instantly, adam pulled you into a hug from behind, head resting on your shoulder. because of the unexpected gesture, you let out a squeak. cute, he thought. “calm down, babe, s’ just me.” he chuckled. “but seriously, don’t leave me alone… i thought you got murdered or somethin’.” you whipped your head around to meet his eyes. was he serious? “first of all, this is literally heaven. secondly, i left to cook you breakfast, dummy. now go sit down or you’re not getting any.” immediately he complied.

“holy fuck.” he said, munching on a pancake. you giggled. “do you like it?” adam stared at you like you had gone crazy. “do i—do i like it? sweetheart, if i knew you cooked like a god i would’ve forced you to make every dish in the damn book.” his praise went straight to your head. you didn’t think he was capable of complimenting anyone that much but himself! still, you weren’t complaining.

not only did you make breakfast for adam, but lunch and dinner, too

when adam came home from work and found ribs on the table, he went FERAL

“baaaabe, im home,” he announced rather loudly. adam scanned the kitchen for you, instead landing his eyes on a large plate of ribs. never had adam wanted to wife someone up so bad.

“oh, adam! i just made some-“

“marry me.”

i feel like adam wouldn’t be too keen on doing chores around the house

washing dishes, doing the laundry, taking out the trash? not quite his forte

once said that it was a “woman’s job,” and you gave him a firm smack to his head (well deserved)

“adam, you NEVER do anything around here!” you complained. adam only groaned in response. “c’monn, doing the dishes won’t kill you,” “i dunno, it might.” “ADAM!”

“fine, jeez! so fuckin’ dramatic i swear…” he muttered under his breath. he reluctantly picked up a sponge and a plate and began cleaning the plate profusely fast. you leaned on the counter next to him, a smug grin on your face to which he only tsked at.

he put away the last dish, finally. “there, you happy now?” he huffed. “very.” you grabbed his face and pecked his lips once, twice. adam was taken aback at your sudden movement, nevertheless kissing you back more fervently. “mph- shit, if this is what i get for doing the dishes, i might start doing it more often.”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam hazbin #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #angel dust #hazbin hotel vox #vaggie #sir pentious #husk #niffty #x reader #fluff #domestic fluff

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deanbrainrotwritings · 2 months

Text

— mattel

SUMMARY : “it’s been a few years since tfw got out of the life, dean and reader are married, etc. dean’s been a little self-conscious lately—he doesn’t look like how he used to; he’s put on a few pounds. just dean with love handles (PLEASEEEEE dean with love handles lives rent free in my mind) body (dean’s) appreciation, lovey dovey stuff like that. reader taking care of him :))))) dean smut fic!!!!!” - anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : Alison (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluffy, little angst, shameless horniess, dirty thoughts, size kink ngl

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : title from an avenged sevenfold song. this fills the square for sex shop on my @jacklesversebingo card. there will be a second part, hehe. xx

“Wow,” you looked around with your lips parted in astonishment at the hundreds of sex toys that covered the wall from top to bottom. “I’ve been missing out.” They had cute names and cute ‘mascots’ stamped on the boxes that held the toys within. You saw bunnies and panda bears and pretty colours like pink, purple, and sky blue.

Dean chuckled behind you and you turned to watch him roll his eyes as he looked to the side. You followed his gaze and you were bombarded with lewd sex books. One of them was open on a bookstand to a page with a man and woman having sex in a position that seemed too acrobatic to actually be pleasurable. You blinked, jaw dropped in shock, and turned your eyes to Dean whose cheeks turned deep red when he met your gaze.

“I’d break something if we tried this!” You exclaimed to make things worse for Dean, and took the same book that resided next to it to quickly flip through it, not nearly as excitedly as you’d hate to admit you were. “This can’t be purely for my enjoyment. Although this one looks hot! Imagine if you did tha- hey!” Dean snatched the book from your hands when two women giggled as they walked around the two of you.

You looked up at him innocently, but mostly seductively when he pulled you into the lingerie section. He shoved the book he’d forgotten about into one of the shelves. Now you knew why he decided to take you this early in the morning. The shop was practically empty after two hours of being open. And Dean, the grumpy morning person he was, hurried you into getting dressed so you could arrive ‘early’ after checking his phone a couple of times. (You imagined he checked the hours and days the shop was less busy and it amused you further.)

“You need to take this seriously,” he murmured, his attention mostly focused on one of the sets above your head. You bit your lip to hide your smirk, but failed and grinned mischievously at him.

“I am!” You pouted, subtly looking at the lingerie set that caught his eye. He gave you a look and you defensively crossed your arms over your chest and turned away from him. “Fine! I’ll pick something, go ask one of the women what they recommend for us, you know, something we can share-”

“What?” Dean suddenly sounded more embarrassed and in disbelief at your request. You could feel him get closer and your skin prickled with foreshadowing excitement.

“Oh, come on.” You turned to punch his arm gently, but he still rubbed the spot. “It’ll be cute to them, just let me look around some more… Please?” He bit his lip thoughtfully and you did the same to hold back a moan at the sight of him in a plain black t-shirt and the same sweatpants he’d abandoned the night before when he made you choke on his dick and beg for him to-

“Okay, baby.” He leaned down to peck your lips and then kissed your forehead as your stomach lurched with elation and your breath bubbled in your chest. You smiled softly at him, your dirty memory evaporating like a puddle in the middle of summer.

You tried to act as casually as you could after stepping out of the dressing room at the back of the sex shop and looked for where Dean was. The same woman—Alison—who’d helped you get away with your secret, winked at you as she talked Dean’s ear off about the toy you figured one of the other employees suggested to Dean.

You carried a small bullet vibrator Alison suggested—for discrete purposes—and a lingerie set. Not the one Dean was staring at earlier, you were currently wearing it beneath your lavender dress. Alison was clearly devious and not judgmental about your request when you’d approached her about it.

Dean visibly relaxed when he saw you and you smiled at him as he thanked Alison. Your eyes dropped to the box and you quickly read Tenuto Mini and you lifted a brow inquiringly at Dean.

“Well, if you have any more questions, I’d be happy to help!” Alison chirped and smiled wide as she walked off. You pursed your lips and watched her long brown hair sway across her back. Suddenly, you began to second-guess your daring move.

“Sweetheart.” Dean’s hand finding yours pulled you out of your flight-freeze state.

“Hey,” you breathed and attempted to smile normally at him, “find something good?”

His eyes slowly moved across your face and you felt your cheeks become warm. Could he read your mind, suddenly? You forced yourself to think of food and your favourite places to have lunch in order to push away your sexual thoughts. Fear is never good for you.

“I dunno,” he murmured unenthusiastically. Your smile fell and concern wrinkled your forehead as you traced the beautiful features of his face to get a read on him.

“What do you mean?” You laughed softly.

“I just… don’t feel…” he trailed off.

“Yeah?” You managed to utter past the knot in your throat.

He stepped closer to you, his gentle hand tapped under your chin in what you think was an attempt to comfort you, and opened his mouth to finally get the moment over with, but he shut it faster than you’d like.

“Dean, what’s-”

“I don’t feel hot… anymore,” he blurted out under his breath.

It was like a cold bath, icy water that killed the fire of both your anxiety and your arousal. You frowned hard, feeling deeply troubled and somewhat hurt by his admission.

“Oh…” you whispered. You watched him bite his lip and longed to be the one who sank your teeth against the plushness of them. You had no idea what to say to him, to comfort him, or even to change his mind about it. You never really considered that he felt that way about himself and part of you wondered when or why he began having those feelings.

“Let’s just go.” He attempted to take the things you were holding, but you felt more confident now about what you were planning. Have you failed as his girlfriend? You were more than happy to prove him wrong by going through with your dirty plan.

“No,” you asserted, “I don’t know when you started feeling that way, but I don’t agree.”

“Let’s… not do this here,” he said quietly, his hand slid up to your elbow. A small group of people entered the store, the bell above the door announced their arrival, and you huffed petulantly. He pulled you closer and you felt agitated—by his words—and wondered how you were even going to play your game out without making him uncomfortable.

“Fine, but we are buying these.” You plucked the toy from his hands and turned away to pay for them yourself before he could argue against it.

The car-ride back home was tense and awkward.

You were horny, upset, troubled, and deep in thought.

Your eyes occasionally drifted over to where Dean sat, his hands wrapped lazily around the steering wheel, legs slightly parted—relaxed. He was deep in thought himself, you could tell by the way he bit his lip and occasionally tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.

You could feel your frown deepening the longer you stared at him and the deeper you fell into the black hole of your thoughts, the more troubled you felt.

How could he not feel hot when you currently wanted to jump his bones and he wasn’t even trying to be sexy? But that was just you. And you had no idea how to comfort him. Or what to say. Just in general, you didn’t know what to do. Would he believe a word you said? Just because you felt it, doesn’t mean he did, too. And that was clear from the way he expressed he felt unattractive, despite the way you were clearly more than pleased to even lay your eyes on him.

He was so beautiful.

For the most part, in the past, you did feel slightly insecure. So you understood how he felt now. But once you started dating, your insecurity went down significantly. And now that the two of you were married, you didn’t doubt for a second that he thought you were beautiful.

Nearly every morning, it was normal for you to express how displeased you were to see him walk out the door for work or having to walk out earlier than him to work yourself. How could it be that he somehow felt not hot when you shamelessly drooled over him in a t-shirt and sweats? You worshipped the ground he walked on and more than loved to be at his mercy.

You hoped at least what happened last night would prove something to him. If the way he had you on your knees, barely allowing you to touch yourself as you took his cock down your throat meant anything to him. Or if the way he made you beg and cry for him to let you orgasm after teasing you with his tongue, fingers, and cock proved anything. You hoped the memory of all of that proved him wrong, basically.

He was all you could think about, always.

Now, your mind was filled with ideas of what you’d do to watch him beg and whimper for you, too. To make him get grabby and rough with you from how much you teased him. To make him delirious by keeping him from his orgasm. To tease him with slow strokes of your hands, your mouth, or your pussy, whatever would make him pound you into the mattress until you came too many times to speak or think coherently.

You wanted to feel him all over your body. You wanted to feel his warm cum inside you. To see the bruises of his fingertips on your hips. To feel the sensitivity and puffiness of your nipples from his mouth. To feel raw and tender and wet between your legs from whatever he decided to use to please you. To feel the soreness in your muscles of having been fucked.

You wanted to see the fierce possessiveness in his green eyes. To kiss the red blush on his freckled cheeks. To hear the arousing sounds of his pleasure rumbling deeply through his chest. To watch the mind-numbing pleasure contort his beautiful face. To see and feel the way his body became taut and tense as it moved with yours.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“What?” It was when you turned to look at him that you felt your thighs relax slightly. They were slick with your arousal and you were only half-ashamed about it. You felt hotter than you already were and shifted your hips shamelessly, only to feel the Impala’s air-conditioning cool the wetness of your neediness against your cunt. Your eyes fell to his hand as it wrapped around your thigh, his fingers squeezed the sides and you instantly imagined him doing it to your neck. You felt a rapid jolt of pleasure on your clit and pressed your lips together as you caught yourself imagining the look on his face if he dared to sneak his fingers higher to feel the dampness of your arousal against your inner thighs. You attempted to remain composed. “I’m fine,” you smiled, then bit your lip to save yourself from smiling too much or not enough.

He looked at you for a few moments and your heart only began to beat faster with each passing second. Dean turned slightly to face you and you realised that you were home when you caught a glimpse of your neighbour’s lemon tree out of the corner of your eye.

What you’d give to ask Dean to steal some off the branches that hung over on your side of the yard. Just to watch his shirt ride up, to reveal his sun-kissed skin, with his sweats hanging low on his hips, his arms flexing to reach the juiciest and perfect lemons for you-

“You’re not mad are you?” Dean’s hand slid up your thigh to grasp your hip and you held your breath—hoping he’d pull you into his lap.

“What? Of course not!” You breathed out when he squeezed gently, awaiting your response. He sighed softly in relief and smiled, his hand moved away and you frowned at the loss of his touch. “I’m… horny,” you admitted bravely and watched his eyes widen and his face turn red.

“Really?” He chuckled breathlessly. He suddenly looked more confident and relaxed. He leaned forward, brushed your hair off your shoulder with his hand, and let his nose tease your jaw as the scent of your flowery perfume made his brain foggy.

You shivered and knew you were already too far gone to play any games with him. You felt his lips ghost against your neck, one of his hands held your elbow, and his other hand moved your hair out of the way on the other side of your face. You somehow felt wetter than before and unbuckled your seatbelt to climb into his lap.

Dean’s laugh died down to a moan when you kissed him and his hands found your waist on instinct. “I really need you to fuck me,” you breathed against his parted lips.

He had the audacity to smirk at you and brought his hands back up to your face to kiss you again instead. He was gentler, slower than you could handle at the moment. His thumb brushed against your warm cheekbone and his fingers tangled in your hair and you wished he would pull on it—hard—as he made you ride his cock.

You whined against his mouth, so he shut you up with his tongue sliding in between your lips to meet yours. Your arousal felt uncomfortable between your legs and your skin began to heat up even more the harder your heart pounded in your chest. You ached for him. Your body ached for him. You wanted to feel him where he’d been a million times before and your body tingled excitedly at the thought of his touch.

You moved his hand from your face and guided it between your bodies so he could feel just how desperate and serious you were about your request. He continued to kiss you, allowing you to guide him. Your lips tingled with endless desire and he soothed your need by sucking on your lip and nibbling possessively on your reddened flesh. He gasped against your mouth and nearly choked on his whimper when his fingertips grazed your lace panties, now completely soaked in your wetness.

You pulled away slightly to catch your breath and he pushed your underwear to the side to feel your slippery folds and entrance. It was embarrassingly easy the way he slipped two of his thick fingers into your. He moaned appreciatively when you panted hard against his flushed cheek and he squirmed, biting hard on his lip.

You began to undulate your hips when he perfectly curled his fingers against your walls and thumbed at your swollen clit, keeping your wet folds spread apart with his index and pinky finger. “Make me finish, Dean. Fuck, I need to cum so bad,” you begged shamelessly, practically fucking yourself on his fingers, in his car, in broad daylight, of all things.

On any other occasion, you’d be utterly ashamed, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to end the pleasure of finally having Dean’s touch right where you needed him. He was so good at making you feel hot and bothered, and you were so ready and wet, you could even hear the abundance of your arousal with every movement of your hips.

You released his wrist and sneaked your hand into his sweats, tried to find the waistband of his underwear, but instead you felt his hardened length ready against your fingers. You inhaled sharply, felt the way your pussy pulsed excitedly around his fingers, and brushed your own lower to feel the already-smeared precum on the tip of his cock.

“Oh… fuck,” Dean murmured, wavering before his fingers slipped out of you, “not here.”

You expressed your complaint with an irritated moan, but removed your hand from inside his pants despite feeling only minimally motivated to obey him. “You’re not wearing anything underneath… And I’m somehow supposed to contain myself?”

His laugh was breathy and quiet against your mouth. “I don’t remember this being what you wore under your dress,” he attempted to change the subject with his accusatory tone. He bit his lip, gazing at you through those beautiful lashes of his when you forced yourself away from him. He wasn’t fully capable of hiding the mischief in his green eyes and you inhaled deeply, smiling, hoping to resist the urge to ask again for him to claim you in his car.

“I think we are both equally surprised at what we’ve found beneath each other’s clothes.”

Dean’s playful grin was followed by laughter he couldn’t contain, a glorious sound that made the millions of dormant butterflies scatter in your stomach. You exhaled shakily and admired him, before making the wise choice of taking the bag containing your new merchandise before escaping the warmth of his car.

Dean called your name happily, but you ignored him when you heard the sexy rumble of his engine die. You stole the key from the pot containing yellow daffodils as the Impala’s door creaked shut with that same sound that brought hope to you whenever he came back home to you again.

-> mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix

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fuctacles · 7 days

Text

Remember late bloomers ?

Love popping into my wips and finding finished stuff I should have posted ages ago

Jeff gently informs him that getting running gear for the first date is a bit of an overkill.

“There is so much wrong with that idea. First of all, you hate running. Exercising, in general. And second, this is kinda pathetic.”

Eddie gasps.

“How dare you!”

“Dude, you just officially met today. Why would you waste money on something you might use once and then never again?”

Jeff was, of course, none the wiser that Eddie was about to enter his fit era. He’s going to jog every morning from now on, he’ll get cute matching sets with Miss Stephanie, drink smoothies, and get a gym pass. He’s going to turn his life around, lose the tummy fat he’s been harboring all winter, and turn it into a sixpack. Their fans are going to love it. Stephanie, too. They’ll run off into the sunset—or sunrise—together, they’ll make and raise the healthiest little babies—

“Are you planning your wedding or something?” Jeff interrupts his daydreams with a scoff.

Eddie bristles.

“I’ll be planning your funeral if you don’t start supporting your perpetually single friend,” he bites back.

Jeff raises his eyebrows.

“You sure that’s what you should be saying to the only friend who can lend you some jogging clothes?”

“Uh…”

“Thought so.” And Eddie hates his satisfied smirk but he’s desperate so he bites his tongue. “So, what you really need are good running shoes…”

He feels all kinds of stupid in his sporty get-up. He’s wearing his old Reeboks he wears only when his shitkickers are in repair (he will wear them to his grave), Jeff’s tracksuit pants, and his lucky Ozzy t-shirt. He woke up extra early today and his mug of coffee was almost empty by the point she, Stephanie, rounded the corner.

His mind goes blank when he recognizes his hoodie.

Maybe he hasn't woken up yet. What other explanation was there for this beautiful creature, backlit by the rising sun, to be walking up to him, decked in bright-colored leggings, and tank top and his hoodie, clashing unforgivingly with its blackness? How else would he get a date with her if it wasn't a dream?

"You're actually dressed for running," she observes. No 'hello', no 'good morning', just her eyes roaming over his body from above. He quickly jumps up from the porch steps.

"Yeah! Lemme just..." He motions to the door with the mug, then quickly gulps down the last mouthful. "Want some water?" he asks, hand on the door.

Stephanie's eyes snap up to his face.

"Yes."

It's weird, the way she says it, the way her eyes wander over his body. There's no way he's looking that good in borrowed sweats. They have some ugly gym logo on the side too.

"I don't really own gym clothes, but my friend was nice enough to share his," he explains, letting her in. She hums absentmindedly and follows him into the kitchen. He puts the mug in the sink and grabs a glass to fill it with freshly filtered water. When he turns around she's right there, now without the hoodie which she hung over on one of the chairs. Her tits are right there, but he holds her gaze, like a gentleman.

"Thanks." She takes the glass from him and takes a tiny sip, not breaking eye contact. Then puts it aside, on the counter behind him. "What's your stance on making out on the first date?"

Eddie's brain starts screaming.

"Not opposed to it," he answers and is immensely proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

"Great," she says, almost relieved, as if he could give any other answer than an enthusiastic "ravish me, lady," and gently grabs his face, thumbs rubbing on the stubble along his jaw. She gives him a second to back away before leaning in.

She kisses his lips, just a little peck, a gentle caress. Dives in for another, and one more. Eddie reaches up to run his hands from her elbows up to her shoulders and feels little tremors running through her body. He frowns.

"Steph...?"

She groans instead of answering and her little kisses turn to kitten licks. When he parts his mouth for her, she licks across it, tongue pulling on his upper lip. He yelps in a pleasant surprise.

"I come here with innocent intentions," she says, her voice a bit strained, dipping into lower registers. "And you sit here, with your scrawny little ass in gym sweats." She lets go of his face so her hands can squeeze his waist minutely, before hauling him up onto the counter behind him. He squeaks, less dignified than the sounds he made before, holding onto her. Stephanie presses in and he opens his legs for her without hesitation. "And your dirty old sneakers, ready to jog with me. Eager like a puppy."

Eddie whines at the comparison.

"I'm not," he protests. He's just an adult man confronted with a beautiful woman out of his league.

"You're not?" she asks condescendingly against his ear. She's been rubbing her cheek against his stubble, nosing along the bones like she's the dog, trying to rub her scent all over him. Now she leans back to pout at him. Her lips are plush and pink and they haven't been kissed enough yet. "But I like strays."

Eddie's brain short-circuits.

"Uh... bark?"

She laughs and grips his thighs before capturing his mouth. She dominates the kiss without struggle and Eddie lets her use his mouth to her heart's content. He just wraps his arms around her neck and takes it, moves his tongue where she guides him. He can feel her hands on his thigh itching to touch more, but he doesn't want to part long enough to let her know she can, that she can take whatever she wants.

Eventually, she slides her hands up, thumbs digging into the crease of his thighs, and he mewls. His face immediately goes red at the sound that just left him.

"Well, that's something I'm not gonna un-hear."

Stephanie freezes and moves to pull away, but he traps her with his legs around her waist and presses his face against her shoulder, to hide his shame. Of course this is when Jeff decided to get up and walk into the kitchen.

"Uh, I'm sorry? And, good morning," Stephanie offers, seeing as her actual host won't be of any help. He makes a little wounded sound against her shoulder and she swats his thigh.

"Good morning," Jeff offers back. "Stephanie, right?"

"Yeah."

"Jeff. I live here too, unfortunately. I was under the impression you were going out for a run, though?" He raises his eyebrows. "Did I lend him my exclusive membership sweats for nothing?"

"They're yours? Can we keep them?" she asks immediately. Eddie presses his nails into her skin not to make a sound at how she said 'we'. "He almost has an ass in them."

"Hey!" It's the first thing he says since Jeff walked in and the first time he moves away from the safety of Stevie-shield. Thankfully, his friend looks mostly amused, not angry or disgusted.

"Please," he makes a face. "I don't want them anymore."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Eddie's eyes narrow, the familiar back and forth giving him enough courage to release Stephanie from the clutch of his legs. She doesn't move far, just enough so the three of them can look at each other and chat comfortably. Well, considering the situation.

"I just saw you dry humping in them and you dare ask me?" Jeff scoffs.

The two culprits start protesting over each other with "We weren't dry humping!" and "We were just kissing?!" but he stops them, raising both his hands.

"I don't care! Just take them and leave the kitchen! I need some caffeine before work and the only bodily fluid I want in it comes from cow tits."

"Ew, dude," Eddie groans, but Stephanie lets out a surprised snort.

"We're leaving!" she promises, pulling Eddie down from the counter. He scrambles to find balance but she grabs his hand to steady him. Despite them just making out, that's what makes his heart skip a beat. "it was nice to meet you, Jeff!" she offers, waving on her way out of the kitchen.

"Likewise. Good luck on your run!" he calls after them.

"Thanks!"

Through the windows, he can still see them, Stephanie fixing Eddie's rumpled t-shirt while he's staring up at her with the dumbest expression he's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of them from his friend.

"Good for him," he mutters to himself with a fond smile.

#stevie harrington #steddie #t4t steddie #transfeminine steve harrington #transfem steve harrington #mine #steddie fanfiction #stevierything #transmasc eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #jeff stranger things

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