#are golf shirts longer

[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.” 

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin. 

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked. 

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course. 

Why is he talking to you? 

He glances down at your drink. 

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?” 

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles. 

“You live around here?” 

“I go to Rice.” 

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?” 

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult. 

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats. 

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you. 

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool. 

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak. 

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.” 

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need. 

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready. 

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff. 

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask. 

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite. 

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay? 

Everything is not okay. 

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes. 

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules. 

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.”  As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. ��We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours. 

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens. 

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell. 

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that? 

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it. 

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care. 

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.”  Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.  

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever. 

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin. 

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand. 

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”  

No strings attached. 

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to. 

What’re you doing? 

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first. 

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened. 

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.  

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come. 

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap. 

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny." 

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy. 

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs. 

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself. 

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow. 

[euaphora]

DONT BE SO QUICK TO WALK AWAY!

✎ᝰ subby!needy!bf!dave x reader

sitting on dave’s lap, while he reads a marvel comic, you facing him and give him quick kisses all over his face.

“I can’t focus babe..” he murmurs out as his breath sounds heavier than before. “Oh, should I get off then?” you suggested as you start hoping off him, he quickly wraps his large hands around your hips and holds you by your hips as he looks up at you. When you sit back down on his lap and move around to get comfortable again, you feel something poke under you.

It felt very rough and felt like it slipped through your panties—rubbing off on you— wrong day to wear a mini golf skirt.

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down to his shaft. “Are you-?”

“No, no! Not like that, its just im-“ he stutters out trying to find the right words without sounding weird about it, “Hard?” You question him as you tilt your head to the side. You loved teasing him, watching the way his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink each time you even so much as breathe.

God you made him harder, if it was even possible since his cock felt like a brick when massaged it through his clothed pants.

“Shit!”

“Would you mind waiting for me outside? I’ll be quick…promise.” He nervously asked, giving you a awkward smile. “Can..i help you?” You ask him, clearly giving him a hint that you would if he was comfortable with it. He body stiffens when you say that and opens his mouth ready to say something just to close it.

“You don’t think I’d do a good job?” You question, messing around with him while you slowly rock you hips. He quickly shakes his head side to side and puts his hands up in defense. “No! Of course not baby it’s just-” he hesitated “would you even want to? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to just cause your my girlfriend.”

You don’t say anything as you pull him in by the back of his neck for a kiss as you start rocking your hips back and forth a little harder than before. He places his hands on waist, hands trembling, and pulls you in closer leaving no space between you both. You rock your hips deeper now, “god! I’ll cum inside my pants if you keep this up, sweetheart…fuck!” He cries out while gripping onto the plush parts of your thighs for support.

He can’t hold back any longer, not even realizing what he was doing when he pulls off your crop top over your head and and clips off your bra. You do the same with his oversized t-shirt and zip down his pants.

You pull out his cock from his breifs now on your knees kissing his tip, kitten licking it while keeping eye contact with him the entire time. “Don’t tease me…” he whimpers, breaking the eye contact by looking down at your hands wrapping themselves around his tip, looking like he’s ready to cry.

“My poor baby boy, why didn’t you just tell me how mad your cock was? I could have helped you hours ago.” You coo while you play with his balls, grabbing at them as he lets out a loud groan, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Momma, please! h-hurts so bad…” he starts taking off his glasses from fog in his glasses, not being able to see anything.

You stop your movements and lightly pull at him, “put them back on.” You scold him, giving him a warning look. “B-but I can’t see, I just wanna watch you, please baby..” he whines out as he pleads out a cry. You just shake you head and wait for him, your mouth ready to be used. “Okay! Okay! Just don’t stop!” He exclaimed, just wanting for you to not stop, almost reaching his climax, while you go back to going faster than before. “Good boy. So good for me, aren’t you?” You smile looking up at him while kissing at his tip. He nods rapidly while he watches you make him feel so so good.

“This is this stuff you get when you behave and do as your told.”

“Cumming…i-im cumming!” He moans out, thrusting his hips forwards trying to find more friction to your hands. You feel a warm seed pop inside your agape mouth as you look up at his tired body, sticking out your tongue full of his seed.

He half-smiles as he watches you swallow it all and stick your tounge out again. You straddle him and give a kiss on the lips making him taste himself. You pull away, him following you with his lips.

“How was it, baby boy?” You ask him with cum slipping out your mouth, quickly lick it it up from the sides. He looks at your lips than you with no words in his head. You giggle at him, and slip inside him, cockwarming him.

[wileys-russo]

alessia “you’ve been hitting the gym” (inspired by her arms in that golf story)

a.russo II morning menace

you chuckled as you returned to the room to find the mess of blonde hair and tanned skin still curled up exactly where you'd left her around an hour ago.

"alessia!" you sung out softly, placing down the coffees and bag of pastries you'd ventured out into the warm morning sun to get, unable to lay down in bed much longer, limbs twitching to do something.

all you received was a tired groan, exactly the same as the one you'd gotten when you tried to convince her to get up and come with you before, when she'd agreed to at least get up and shower while you were gone.

"lessi. babe come on i've been gone for an hour and you haven't even moved!" you laughed, jumping up onto the bed and staring down at the back of her head, another tired grunt all you got in reply.

"svegliarsi! svegliarsi, svegliarsi, svegliarsi-" you chanted wake up in italian, starting to jump on the bed causing her body to bounce up and down. "oh my god!" your girlfriend groaned in annoyance, reaching out blindly for you as you dodged her hands which tried to pull you back down into bed.

"alessia its nearly eleven in the morning. we're in the middle of italy, its a beautiful gloriously sunny day, the water temperature is perfect and i booked us full spa treatments for this afternoon. get up!" you dropped your body down on top of her causing her to grunt.

"can i smell coffee?" the blonde mumbled tiredly as you rolled your eyes. "you might, and breakfast pastries..." you trailed off with a hum, poking at the back of her neck. "from that little bakery we walked past yesterday?" your girlfriend questioned as she stretched out beneath you with a cute noise.

"maybe. you'll have to get up and see for yourself grumpy!" you moved her hair out of her face and leaned down to kiss her flushed cheek a few times, yanking the covers off of her as you stood, smacking her on the ass and tossing them to the floor as you jumped down off the bed.

"you really are such a menace sometimes." the girl sighed as she rolled onto her back, stretching out again and sitting up, pushing her hair to one side of her head and squinting at you tiredly through puffy eyes.

"oh? well thats a shame. suddenly i think i'm so hungry from my walk i'll eat all these pastries!" you shrugged, hand dipping into the bag and grabbing one out, shaking off the excess icing sugar and taking a bite.

"so good!" you moaned out mid mouthful, goading your girlfriend enough that she finally got out of bed with a huff, only clad in an oversized t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "good morning baby." you cheered as she stopped in front of you, a head and a half taller and looking quite unimpressed.

"smile, we're on holiday." you poked her nose, spinning around to dodge her hand which reached for the bag. "nuh uh, i earned these." you tutted, finishing off the pastry in your hand and reaching for another.

"less!" you squealed as suddenly your feet weren't touching the soft carpet of the hotel room floor, your girlfriend hauling you over her shoulder effortlessly with one arm, grabbing her coffee with the other and carrying you out to the balcony.

"you've been hitting the gym." you squeezed her rock hard bicep still hung upside down and humming appreciatively. "you should know, all you do is sit on the bench and stare at me while i work out." your girlfriend chuckled as you scoffed and hit her back.

"i do not! i do my own work out." you defended, though really you knew most of your workout was for your eyes which flickered around the room following your professional athlete of a girlfriend around the hotel gym.

with a teasing mhm alessia carefully lowered you onto one of the chairs in the sun before taking a seat in the other, snatching the bag of pastries out of your hand and stretching out her legs so her feet settled in your lap.

"are you comfortable?" you scoffed, the blonde nodding and dropping a pair of sunglasses you didn't even see her grab down over her eyes. "foot massage please." the striker ordered, digging her heel into your thigh expectantly and sighing happily as she took the first sip of her coffee.

"you're the real menace in the mornings russo."

[traumatrios]

i can't stop thinking about Stanford!art in his backwards hat!! could u maybe write something for Stanford art plsss no pressure tho.

warnings! frat boy!art, drinking and suggestiveness (?)

josie’s notes! loved this look sm 🧎‍♀️ pls tell me if yall understand the ending bc idk if i was too vague…

You don’t know where it came from— besides the obvious Stanford merch shop on campus. Art just began to wear the cap every day. He always defended the look with “it helps keep the hair from my eyes” and how the girls “totally dig it”.

He was right, even when being sarcastic about it. You did ‘dig’ it.

It gave him the flare of a true college stud, especially when he decided to join a lesser-known frat and paired the red hat with a Kappa Alpha t-shirt on.

God, you would feel the drool pooling in your mouth the first time he gave you a peek at the new look.

Frat boys weren’t your type, but when Art sported the charisma one could get only from brotherhood, it was just so attractive.

“If you take a picture it will last longer.”

Art appeared in front of you with a red solo cup in one hand and the other stuffed into his jeans. Fuck, you were caught.

Parties became a regular occurrence in Art’s social life, which eventually meant it became one in yours, too. Especially when your mutual friends swear you’re only seen together… which isn’t true!

“You don’t think my eyes are pretty?” You fluttered your eyelashes up at the boy, your intoxicated state influencing the confidence that gushed from your features.

“Very pretty,” he smiled. Art was surprisingly tolerant of his alcohol, which is something you’ve questioned for the past two years of your close friendship. You, on the other hand.

“Mm, like your hat,” you reached a hand up to twist the rim of his cap. Now he had been shadowing his forehead rather than the back of his neck.

Now he looked like a golfing dad, especially with the million dollar twinkle in his eye and the way he charmed you to the bone.

Unhappy with the new look, Art took the hat completely off of his head and fixed it on yours. The canvas material of the hat wrinkled around the width of your head and even slid to the space between your brows. Nonetheless, your smile persisted.

He was convinced it lit up the whole room.

“Your head is big,” was all you could say, giggling at how he rolled his eyes and threatened to take the hat back by lunging one of his large hands toward the cap. You swung up your forearm in defense, turning your head away from the boy.

Art pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you twirl away from his playful attacks. “Mine now?” you asked.

“No-no, but keep it on ‘til the morning,” he flicked your forehead, just above the adjustable snaps of the cap.

You rose an eyebrow in question. “Morning?”

Art didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just wrapped his fingers around the rim of your cup sauntered off to the kitchen.

divider by @benkeibear!

[lovercraftian]

i want a snake hybrid to catch me stealing from his hoard

he'd scold me for being such a stupid boy, for thinking i could sneak into his cave and take his treasure, as he coils his long tail around my waist. with a quick jerk of his tail, he'd tear my clothes in two, and as he discards my shirt and pants and underwear to the side, he'd tell me that he forgives me, because he just found an even better treasure than gold or jewels.

he'd rub his cloaca against my thigh until his stubby, thick hemipenes peek out from his slit. they're about five inches long not counting their shared base, but they're so thick and covered in barbs and spines that they're more daunting than any other cock i've ever seen.

as he grinds against my thigh, he'd worm his long, forked tongue into my boycunt, his piercings rubbing along my insides as he explores every last inch.

once my cunt is nice and slick with his saliva, he'd wrap his tail around my ankles to keep me in place, and then he'd grind against my cunt, trying to get his cocks into me. his cocks would keep slipping just as he's about to get his tapered tips inside, and he'd eventually get so frustrated that he would grab my hips, no longer allowing me to wriggle away from him, and yank me down as he gives one good, hard thrust.

he'd tell me that my cunt feels so good, that i'm the most perfect creature he's ever had the pleasure of breeding, that he wants to keep me in his hoard like i'm his new favorite treasure.

his cocks would fill me up so fucking well. i wouldn't be able to do anything but whine and babble as he fucks me slowly and passionately. i cum once, twice, three times before i regain my ability to speak, albeit senselessly, and start begging to be let go.

"no! you can't go yet, my precious," he'd purr insistently. "i need to make sure my eggs take."

eggs?? that couldn't be right. i'd start struggling more, confused and scared. he'd hold me close, kissing my chest as he coos reassurances and murmurs praise, and his thrusts would get more frantic.

i'd scream and cum a fourth time when he thrusts one last time. one of his cocks coats my insides with his cum; the other swells and contracts as soft, golf-ball sized eggs squeeze their way through his shaft and into my boycunt.

he'd stroke my head as i calm down, telling me in a hushed voice about his species' mating process and reproductive anatomy. i wouldnt be listening, already drifting off.

he wouldn't let me leave ever again. he would spoil me like a prince as he makes sure that his eggs stay safe inside of me. when his eggs re-emerge from me and hatch, he'd be quick to pump his eggs and cum into me again, eager to keep me full of new broods of babies for us to raise together.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [15K] PART TWO OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

tw: mentions of pregnancy, slight steddie.

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Five weeks. 

You didn’t see Steve for five weeks. Not for lack of looking. The Lake House was astoundingly quieter with the loss of the youngest Harrington and his friends, the bar empty, the Macallan well stocked and poker nights were taken over by the older generation. You didn’t see him on the golf course, nor in the spa. He didn’t frequent the smoking lounge and you didn’t see him at the bar. Gone was his maroon BMW from the parking lot and on the one, stupid occasion where you’d swallowed all your shame, you drove past his townhouse after a late night shift and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or relieved to see it sitting in the dark, empty.

You hadn’t exchanged numbers that night, still, the radio silence was infuriating. But hey, at least he wasn’t just plain avoiding you. 

Which you realised when he waltzed in one Tuesday before lunch service, more tanned than ever, white shirt sleeves rolled up, tan trousers perfectly tailored. His eyes were on you immediately, his hair longer than you’d last seen him, like he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to get it cut. Strands of it fell into his eyes and he swept them out of the way with a grin as he approached the bar. More so a smirk, really. And it irked you, his smirk, his pretty brown eyes, his perfectly messy hair, his sunkissed skin and don’t give a fuck attitude. 

He leant on the bar like he owned it, elbows pressed to the wood, hands clasped in front of him so the gold ring glinted in the afternoon sun. He didn’t say anything, he just waited, watching as you finished polishing a wine glass and put it back on the glass shelf. 

You cleared your throat and didn’t bother to smile, but the voice you spoke in was very much reserved for customer service. “Good afternoon, sir. What can I get you?”

You watched as Steve’s eyes flashed a little darker, amused and something else. He let out a soft laugh, like he thought you were funny. Like he thought your cold indifference was hilarious. So he played along, sliding onto one of the suede stools. The bar room was somewhat empty, most of the members either gathering for lunch in the sun room or soaking up the last of the warm weather on the golf course. It was quiet, and the tension between the two of you could fill the entire manor. 

“A Macallan, please,” Steve answered, just as politely. 

He was still watching every move you made, eyes raking over your legs, the fit of your dress over your hips, the swell of your ass when you turned and reached up for the bottle of scotch. You smiled, a sardonic press of your lips that didn’t meet your eyes when you asked him, “would you like ice with that?”

Steve really laughed then, but there was an edge to it that told you were getting under his skin. If he wanted to leave the country for over a month after blowing your mind in his fancy living room like it was no big deal, well— you could pretend you don’t care. Or better yet, didn’t even remember him. 

“No ice,” he said and before you could pour, he waved his hand for you to stop. “Actually, you know what? I’d prefer the forty year. You have that right, honey?”

You did. But it was in the back, behind a heavy, locked door. The forty year old scotch could go for thirty thousand dollars a bottle. You tried not to look surprised, or worse, impressed. So you nodded instead and told him, “of course, sir. Please bear with me.”

But when you left the bar to walk towards the door that was marked ‘employees only,’ Steve was behind you. You watched him lean against the wall as you fumbled with your key card, pressing it once, twice - fuck - three times against the pad before it buzzed. And when you pushed the door open and Steve caught it, slipping in behind you, your cold indifference turned to anger. 

Who did he think he was? Did he think he was that untouchable?

“This is employees only,” you hissed at him, panicking at the thought of someone else - god forbid, your boss - catching you in the hallway with him. 

Like they’d be able to tell you’d gone to his late one night, that you’d stood and stripped for him in front of his big fireplace and bigger TV, like they’d find out he’d put his mouth on you and made to you come harder than  anyone else ever ha—

But Steve just sighed, a long suffering thing that made your hackles rise up that little bit higher. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Honey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He brushed past you, hands in his pockets, walking down the corridor towards the locked room where the high value liquor was kept. “No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Now, come on.”

You didn’t want to obey, you didn’t want to do as he said. But you were at a loss. He looked so good and smelled so nice, clean and like the ocean, like sunscreen, like he’d just stepped off the plane from whatever Italian city he’d been hiding in and came straight to you. So you didn’t say anything, you just straightened up and let the clickclickclick of your heels fill the silence as you edged past him again and walked towards the door. 

He didn’t let you reach it before he started talking again, a lazy drawl that matched his slow walk, an effortless thing that suited his linen trousers and effortlessly rumpled shirt. Even the lock of hair that fell across his forehead looked artfully placed. 

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?” 

You clenched your jaw. “No.”

You heard him laugh and the sound made your hand slip from where it tried to remember the combination for the door. He was so sure of himself, so sure and so confident that you’d spent the last five weeks thinking of him and where he was and what he was doing and who he was with—

“So rude today, honey. You don’t want to hear about the business deals I secured? The money I made?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. You kept your back to him, body stiff, mind positivity empty as you tried to recall the fucking code. You could sense him getting closer, body heat crowding yours, his cologne, his scent, like he’d bottled an Italian summer and sprayed it all over himself. 

“No,” you repeated. Blunt, short, cold. 

“What if I brought you back a present, wouldn’t you want to know then?”

He was behind you now, a towering presence, intimidating even when you weren’t looking at him. His chest brushed your back, a solid, warm thing that you wanted to melt against. But you kept yourself strong, hoping he couldn’t see your shaking hands as you tried another series of numbers. Steve’s hand came up to your neck, sweeping away the hair there, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin. 

The keypad beeped at you in protest, another denied entry. 

“You’re not like the other girls, are you, honey?”

You braced yourself, waiting for the speech about how you were different from the others, better in whatever way Steve deemed appropriate. Prettier, maybe. Smarter, quirkier, some kind of compliment that was supposed to make you preen for him. 

 Steve tsked and moved closer, his nose brushing the nape of your neck. “No, you don’t want my money. You’re not interested, huh? You don’t want the cash, the presents, no diamonds, no five thousand dollar shoes. You don’t want the cars or the houses or the yachts or the ring on your finger, huh?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer. Steve’s little speech didn’t go the way you assumed. The boy spun you suddenly, backing you into the wall as he took your chin in his hold, heated skin between a finger and his thumb, his nose and lips trailing over your cheek, your temple. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. You waited. 

“No, honey, you just want fucked, don’t you?” 

His lips were at your ear, trailing over the shell of it and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered, heading lolling back until it thudded against the wall. You were breathing funny, your body boneless. How did you fucking get here?

Steve grinned even though you couldn’t see, teeth on your jaw instead. He took your hand from where it lay limp by your side and brought it to his crotch, cupping it between his own and his cock, the hard length of him pushing against his slacks and your small hand. “You just want this, right?” His teeth nipped at you and you scrunched your face in pleasure, lips parting. “Tell me.”

You folded, a new kind of girl from the one that stood at the bar, brushing him off and pretending you couldn’t recall the way you came on his tongue. You nodded, brows knitted together, like you were ready to beg. Maybe you were. “Yeah,” you answered breathily. “I want it.”

Steve kissed your cheek, a sweet thing, a sudden and shocking touch. “Want what? Wanna hear it, honey, c’mon.”

Heat rushed through you, clinging to your cheeks, your neck. You squirmed, embarrassed and turned on, even more embarrassed that you were throbbing at his words. You blinked at him. “Want your cock,” you whispered. 

“Smart girl,” he cooed. “Clever girl. Such a good fucking girl.” Steve let go of your chin, used his fingertips to brush your hair back and draw a line down your jaw. He pressed another kiss, to your chin this time, a fleeting thing that you tried to chase. You wanted to taste him. “That’s better isn’t it? So much better when you play nice. Where do you want it? Hm? Wanna suck it for me, honey? Want to feel it down your throat?” Steve tsked, his voice low and controlled despite the filth he was muttering against your cheek. “No, no, you want it inside of you, right? My baby wants fucked, right?”

Baby. My baby. It didn’t feel like a pet name, not really. Not like the way he said ‘honey,’ like melted candy on his tongue. No. This felt like ownership. 

You were throbbing from the inside out, your brain buzzing, a white noise kind of sound that tuned out everything bar Steve’s voice, his words, that awfully fucking pretty cadence that made you feel like you were one step away from getting in trouble. You don’t know why you loved it, why it made your toes curl, your lips part and a whine get stuck in your throat. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails scraping over his shirt, creasing the expensive linen. You didn’t care. “Yeah, please, I want that.”

“Oh, it’s Steve, now, is it?” The boy laughed a little meanly, grabbing at your hips to turn you for him, your chest pressed to the wall as he made sure your ass stayed popped out for him. He traced the pretty arch of your back, rocked his dick against the curve of your ass cheek and squeezed. “I think I preferred ‘sir.’ Made you sound so much more agreeable.”

You just moaned. A sound you’d never heard yourself make, an animalistic thing, wrecked sounding and it made Steve beam. “Oh honey, you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn’t you?” His hands found the hem of your dress and cool air hit the tops of your thighs as he started lifting it up. 

You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care. 

Your cheek was pressed to the wall, Lake House green paint under the press of your palms and you remained pliant for Steve, back arched and legs spreading a little, ready for him to pull your underwear to the side and slip his cock inside of you. You wanted it, you needed it—

“I’m not gonna fuck you here, pretty girl, not yet.” Steve was at your ear again, whispering against the shell of it, his fingers grabbing a handful of your ass under your dress as he squeezed and pulled at the dough of it. “Gonna take my time with you for that. Going to make sure I ruin you.”

Disappointment washed over you like a bucket of cold water. It was sobering and his words made you whine, a desperate noise that the staff corridor of The Lake House should never have heard. You turned on your own volition, gazing at Steve with heavy lidded eyes and you were pleased to see he looked the same. Cheeks pink, lips parted, his chest moving a little quicker than before. You remembered the way he’d taken charge that night, how he’d just assumed you’d come home with him after the poker game, how he’d sat in front of you, sprawled on his big sofa as he watched you take off your clothes for him. 

How he’d told you to. 

And then he’d made you come undone, unravelling against his mouth as he whispered dirty things to you, leaving you fuzzy and hazy as he dropped you home, seemingly unaffected. You wanted that power back, you wanted to see him too far gone to remember how much money he had in the bank. 

So you pressed your palms to his chest and smoothed down his shirt collar before you dropped to your knees in front of him. It should’ve been a submissive thing, most people would assume it was. You, kneeling below the rich man, the man who had wealth and connections and an entire legacy built on just his name. You, the girl who was paid to serve him from behind a bar, pouring drinks that you’d ever be able to afford, on the floor in front of him. 

But when you looked back up at Steve, his cocky expression had changed to one of awe. Genuine surprise showed in his eyes, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he blinked at you, dreamlike, hazy, fuzzy. Just like he’d made you feel. You brought your hands to the front of his trousers, finger teasing the button there before he slumped forward a little and braced his hands on the very wall he’d pushed you up against. He nodded, mumbled something that sounded like ‘please.’

Victory. 

You looked back at the door you’d come through, no windows in the wood, but still thin enough that could hear the grand piano playing in the dining room, the distant tinkling of china teapots against porcelain teacups. Anyone could walk in. You’d get fired. Or worse.

The button popped under your finger and thumb, and the zipper whispered in the quiet when you tugged it down. Steve groaned, a heavy, hot sound that made the slick between your thighs worsen. He was leaning over you, head bowed between the arms that held him up, his full lips pink and parted as he stared down at you. You waited for some sort of instruction, an order, some filthy kind of praise but instead, he just watched. 

Powerless. 

You flattened a palm against his cock, hard and warm under the cotton of his black Calvin Kleins, your other hand braced on his thigh. You looked up, one brow raised, a silent question even as the solid length of him kicked up against your touch. 

“Yes,” he rasped, nodding. “Yeah, honey, go ‘head.”

You worked fast, the rest of the club a far away murmur behind the locked door as Steve’s heavy breaths took over your senses instead. You dragged the band of his underwear down, his cock slapping up against his stomach. He was huge, thick and long and hard to wrap your fingers around and you hated that he had another reason to walk around acting like he fucking owned the world. 

But you wanted the power back and you grasped him in your fist, pumping him against your palm as he tried to stop his hips from bucking forward. You wanted Steve like putty, yours to play with, you wanted him to fall apart as fast and as hard as he made you. 

So you skipped the teasing, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe across the head of his cock, salt on your tongue and he swore, hips jerking when you opened your mouth and let him slide past your lips. You worked quick, heart racing from the adrenline of sucking someone off during working hours, hidden in a place you weren’t supposed to be. This was stupid, it was so fucking stupid but the stretch of your jaw around Steve’s cock was delicious, the sounds he was making even better. He was gasping your name, his voice hoarse, his eyes barely able to stay open but his lashes fluttered and he made sure he watched the way his cock disappeared in and out your mouth, over and over again. 

Your nails scratched at his thighs, making him hiss, your free hand pumping the length of him that you couldn’t nudge into your throat. It was wet and messy, a filthy thing that made his brain malfunction ‘cause you were looking up at him the whole time with big, doe eyes and your pretty, little dress was splayed over your thighs. You looked like sin, you looked like his own personal wet dream and you were tracing your tongue along the underside of his cock as the head of it hit the back of your throat and—

“Oh my god,” Steve growled. One hand fell from the wall to grasp your head, not pushing, not guiding. Just twisting into your hair and holding on for dear fucking life. “Oh, fuck, m’gonnacome.”

It had barely been five minutes and a new sort of determination flushed through you. You were soaked, inner thighs wet from the heat of Steve’s stare, from the weight of his cock on your tongue and god, he was tipping his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair as he realised you were doubling down on your efforts and not pulling off. 

“In your mouth, honey, yeah?” His voice was a little higher, breathier, so much less than controlled that it ever had been. “Gonna come in that pretty mouth, that smart, little mouth, hm? Please? Gonna swallow it all for me?”

You hummed in agreement, refusing to take you lips away from him, bringing a hand to cup his balls as you worked your mouth around him, rolling them in your palm. Steve twitched against your tongue, hips jerking forward as he gasped out everything from a prayer, to your name, to a curse. He came hard and sudden, his jaw hanging slack as he stared down at you, watching with a greedy sort of awe as he spilled over your tongue. You made a show of it for him, lips parting and mouth open as you pumped what you could out of him, letting him see it cover your tongue before you swallowed. 

And as he stood, barely keeping himself up, breathless and speechless, you tucked him back into his trouser, soft and spent. You stood primly, caged between his arms as you smoothed down your skirt and met his gaze. He looked a little wild, a little wrecked and he swore under his breath when you licked your lips, using your thumb to politely swipe at the corner of your mouth, like a lady at high tea, not a girl who’d just sucked the fucking life from him. 

Neither of you spoke. You weren’t sure Steve could. So you ducked under his arm and walked away, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you tried to make sure he couldn’t seen the way your legs shook. Chin high, smile victorious, you didn’t look back before you slipped out of the door and out to the bar. It took a while for Steve to appear, face still a little flushed, but he’d brushed back his hair and smoothed out any wrinkles in his shirt, his trouser buttoned back up but his eyes gave him away. 

They were glittering, trained on you as he came through the employees only door like he owned the entire building. 

He didn’t care that you were serving Mr and Mrs St. Clair there afternoon martinis. No, he walked right up to the bar and tapped his fingers on the wood, vying for your attention. You gave it easily, gaze on Steve instead of the cocktail shaker you were filling with ice. 

“What time do you finish?” He asked, voice still rough. 

You swallowed tightly, eyes flitting to the older couple who weren’t paying you much mind. Not when their drinks weren’t ready yet. “Seven,” you told him.

Steve nodded. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

—————

That’s how it went. 

No labels, not much talking - not about anything too serious anyway, like the future. Just a whirlwind you couldn’t really call a romance because Steve Harrington had fucked you in every room of his house, every car he parked in his too big garage, but he’d never kissed your lips. You’d found that Steve didn’t really do sweet unless it came with some kind of condescending tone that made your toes curl, surprising you on the odd occasion with a sudden fondness that even shocked him. But still, no kisses. He’d kiss you everywhere else, forehead often resting against yours as you both caught your breaths, his cock still inside you. You’d feel his nose bump your own, a soft touch, an intimate thing. But he’d pull back when you’d lift your chin a little, mouth searching for his like he hadn’t just been gasping into it. 

He didn’t really hold your hand or call you his girlfriend but he knew your favourite wine, an expensive Chardonnay he liked to buy you by the crate, along with flowers you hadn’t even seen before, colourful blooms that looked like they belonged in a magazine. He’d place his hand on the small of your back when he took you out to restaurants, cocktail bars full of business men that only he knew. Away from Hawkins, always in the front of one of his cars, each one faster and shinier than the last. Dining rooms with chandeliers and low lights, pillar candles on white table cloths and five forks each. 

He showed you off, surprising you with silk dresses and red bottomed heels that you told him off for, but Steve would kiss your neck, your bare shoulder and whisper how he wanted to take the pretty dress off of you later, how he wanted you in nothing but Louboutin’s. His touch was possessive, dirty, sometimes surprisingly caring, a gentleman that opened your car doors for you, who pulled out your chair for you to sit. 

 But no, he never kissed your lips. 

And when he was spending days and weeks in Rome, Milan, Cannes, New York, Los Angeles, Singapore, St. Martin, well. When was there time to talk about relationships?

Steve Harrington was private jets and brand new Bentley’s. He was a special edition Rolex and had his family's name outside Hawkin’s city hall on a gold plaque. He was silk, leather, polished shoes and freshly ironed shirts. Gold, suede, expensive cologne, yachts in Monaco, a villa in the hills of the French Riviera. But he wasn’t your boyfriend. 

No. He was thousand dollar bottles of whisky, business deals in San Tropez, a private beach club in Marbella. He was parties. He was the party. Cocktail nights with the elite, a grown up rager in someone's mansion, where chandeliers swung from ornate ceilings and the stairs were painted in gold leaf, littered with coked up rich kids who were using daddie’s hundred dollar bills to fill their noses. 

Like the one you were at now, the thumpthumpthump of far away music still managing to reach you three floors up. The entire house was filled with art, a gallery more than a home and twenty something year olds made the place look too messy, black ties loose around men’s necks as girls walked around the marble floors barefoot, bottles of Moët clutched in their hands, each one looking for someone else to fuck. Grecian statues were thrown like footballs, busts of women from too long ago used as something to take a line off of and there were five people in the pool outside, naked, drunk, all taking turns touching each other. 

It was debauchery at its finest. At its richest. 

It was Eddie’s idea. 

He’d invited Steve who’d then picked you up in a car you hadn’t seen before, a deep green Camaro with tan leather seats. It was already late, later than you’d like to have left for the beginning of a night out but Eddie promised a good time and the possibility of a new business venture for Steve.  

The house had been an hour out of town, nestled off into the countryside between a forest and a lake, the long driveway spot lit as it led to the huge brick manor. You’d walked through the door behind Eddie, Steve’s hand on your back as he coaxed you inside and into the chaos. Music, bodies, champagne flutes overflowing on a round table in the foyer, marble flooring, tapestries on the walls, spilled glitter on the stairway and money littering a desk, poker chips on the floor. 

No one greeted you, no one looked at you. But someone slapped Steve on the shoulder and Eddie shook a guy's hand, a bag of white powder exchanged for a rolled up wad of cash. No words were said. So Steve grabbed a mottle of Moët from a tabletop and took your hand, only to lead you up the stairs and Eddie followed, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he winked at the girl on the landing that you all had to step over. 

An empty room, champagne bubbles, two men. 

The bed was huge, a canopy style thing with too many pillows and with gold stitched quilts. Red drapes and low lights, a thick carpet that you dug your toes into when you slipped off your heels and then fell onto the mattress. Eddie followed, tipsy, boisterous, laughing as he did. Steve lazed in an armchair in the corner, long legs splayed out in front of him as he sipped from the bottle, his eyes on the way the hem of your dress slipped up your thighs. 

“How does Steve’s little friend like the lifestyle?” Eddie asked you, grinning. “Is the Moët to your taste, sweetheart?” He was teasing and you knew that, teasing in a lighter way than Steve would because he was smiling and his eyes were kind, his cheek pushed to the bedding as he waited for your answer. 

You took the bottle from Steve and let the bubbles slide down your throat, the fizziness tickling the roof of your mouth and it wasn’t sweet enough. Still, you took it greedily, wetting your lips before you dropped the empty bottle onto the floor with a thud. “I prefer Chardonnay, but it’ll do,” you joked back. 

Eddie laughed and then hummed. He appraised you thoughtfully before his eyes flickered to Steve, dark in the dim light. “Oh yeah, Mr Harrington was kind enough to buy you a whole case of it, huh? I saw the order, sweetheart don’t get flustered.” Eddie reached out to brush a stand of your hair away from your face and from the corner of your eye, you saw Steve sit up a little straighter. “He’s real nice, isn’t he? Likes to spoil a pretty girl like you.”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was a warning. 

“Right?” he continued, nodding at you like you’d agreed. You simply watched him from the bed, breath hitching a little when he propped himself onto one elbow so he could look down at you, one finger tracing up and down your forearm. “Jewellery, flowers, nice dinners, nicer dresses,” he trailed off, plucking at the strap of your black dress. “Pretty things for pretty girls. He doesn’t kiss you though, does he?”

The air was sucked out of the room and Steve bristled. “Eddie.”

Eddie ignored him. He tutted sympathetically, pouting at you. “He hasn’t, has he? He never does, some weird rule he has.” You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. But you gasped quietly when Eddie traced a finger over your bottom lip, tugging at it gently until he let it go and it fell back into place with a soft ‘pop’. “Such a shame.”

He pulled away slightly to look back at Steve, who was sitting forward in the chair now, his elbows braved on his knees as he stared at Eddie with a dark expression. Like he was waiting. Warning him. But he didn’t say anything, so Eddie turned back to you. 

“D’you know that Steve and I share things?”

You shook your head, wishing you had the sense to sit up, to collect yourself, to pull the hem of your damn dress down because the warm air that was trapped inside the room - between these two men - was heating up the skin on your thighs. 

“Yeah,” Eddie explained. “Shares, stocks, cars… girls.” He leaned down again, nose bumping against your temple as he whispered theatrically into your, loud enough for Steve to hear. “He likes me more than Hargrove, you see.”

You could hear a pin drop. 

“Do you think he’d let me kiss you, sweetheart? I bet he would.” Eddie was on his hands and knees now, crawling over you, hovering just above, hands braced on either side of your head and he grinned at the way your pupils grew a little bigger, a little darker. Both of you turned your heads to the side, your cheeks pressed to the expensive Egyptian cotton and you both looked at Steve. You weren’t sure what for. For a scolding, for a fight, for approval. 

“C’mon, Harrington,” Eddie broke the silence. “She’s not your girl, is she? You gonna let me taste her? Seeing as you don’t? Bet she’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

Steve let out a huff of breath, his eyes flashing as he gripped the arm of the chair too tight. He sat back into the leather, shoulders stiff and lips in a straight line. “I know how she tastes, Munson, trust me.”

The way they spoke about you like you weren’t there made your skin tingle, an electric current that ran through your bones and you were buzzing, fizzing - but that might’ve been the champagne. But still, Eddie continued, playing Steve until he was flushed in the face with an emotion you couldn’t place. 

“Yeah but those lips look pretty fucking biteable,” Eddie whispered and he ducked his head down, nose brushing yours, lips parting when yours did on instinct. “Could eat her up. Like a little peach, huh?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop it. He just sat and stared, cock stirring in his trousers because this is how these parties went and this wasn’t the first time he’d watched his friend take the girl he’d brought on a bed. In fact, this was tame compared to the other nights, lines of coke and whisky on a bedside table, his cock buried in some strange girl's mouth as Eddie took her from behind, shirt buttons ripped open and matching red lipstick on both their chests. 

This was different. It felt different. 

But still, he stayed quiet. 

“You just want a kiss, don’t you?” Eddie cooed as he kept close, nuzzling his nose to your cheek, making sure his lips brushed across your when he moved to the other side. Your hands curled around the outside of his thighs where he kneeled over you, keeping him there, holding tight. You could see Steve out of your peripheral. “Pretty thing like you just wants some lovin’, I know it.”

Then slowly, as if allowing you - or Steve - to stop him, Eddie moved in, kissing your top lip before moving to your bottom, a barely there thing before he was kissing you properly, mouth pushing against yours. He angled his face so Steve could see, so the other boy on the armchair could watch the way he parted his lips and opened your own with his tongue, licking into you in a way that made your back arch. Steve watched the black silk of your dress - the one he bought you - meet Eddie’s shirt, matching colours, black as midnight. Ink on skin, moving against a stranger's sheets. Nipples pebbling against the material as Eddie dragged one of his hands down your sides, lifting your arm up and keeping it above your head so he could drag his fingers down the side of your breast, the material pulling tight over your skin. 

He followed the curve of it, made you gasp into his mouth and then he was groaning, whispering something about how sweet you were, his tongue sweeping over your own before he was ripped away from you. 

Steve had Eddie by the scruff of his shirt, hauling him off of the bed and you until he staggered into the other boy, grinning like this was all the funniest game in the world. You were panting, lips still glossy from Eddie’s kiss, eyes wide with shock because Steve was pulling himself up to his full height, shoulder squared, chin tilted up. 

His nose almost touched Eddie’s. 

“S’wrong, Harrington?” Eddie whispered. He was goading, excited, too amused. “She’s not your girl, right?” Their chests touched but Eddie didn’t back down, still grinning, curls mussed from where he’d lay on the bed with you, your gloss smeared across his own lips, a pretty pink that matched the flush across his cheeks. “You normally don’t mind sharing, dude, what’s the problem?”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he was breathing a little heavier, gaze flickering to you as you sat up and smoothed down your dress, your hair. Part of you wanted to get between the boys, soothe whatever was about to start, but something inside of you wanted to hear what Steve had to say. You stared back at him, feeling too hot, too exposed but you waited, gaze hard on him. 

“Quit playin’, Eddie,” Steve warned and he took one step back, standing in the middle of you and the other boy. He looked flustered, a little put together than he normally did, his eyes dark and his cheeks heated, his back too stiff and he shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the way they were balled into fists. “I’m not in the mood.”

But Eddie kept smiling, hands held out in front of him as if he were surrendering but he continued to smile, eyes shining as kept talking, voice lilting. “Poor thing just wanted a kiss, man, only giving her what you don’t. Sorta mean, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t say anything, you just watched as Steve glared and Eddie grinned, the room filled with something more than faded music, empty champagne bottles and all the leftover bubbles. Tension fizzed in the corners, it made the walls crack and split, it made your chest turn a little too tight. 

“Like I said,” Eddie gestured to you, eyes flirting up and down your frame appreciatively before turning back to Steve, “s’not like she’s your girl, is she?”

The thump of a bassline from two floors down, faint splashes from a pool outside the open window, the smash of a glass. But silence from Steve. 

“Am I?” 

Your voice sounded so much smaller than you wanted it to but you stared at Steve as you watched his jaw tense and flex. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath, something you couldn’t hear, pressing his thumb to the corner of his eye before he faced you. 

“We’ve, uh,” he swallowed and reached for another cigarette. “We’ve spoken about this, honey.” He said it calmly, casually, like you should’ve known better. 

But you had spoken about it at all. Not really. Steve’s silence said more than words and when he only pressed kisses to your cheek, to the insides of your thighs and side of your neck, you’d finally gotten the hint. Steve Harrington didn’t get attached. He didn’t do relationships. He was too busy, and spent too much time between too many cities, too many countries. Steve Harrington had yachts and cars and penthouses and villas. But he didn’t have girlfriends. Not just one, anyway. 

You should’ve known. You had known. But hearing it aloud made it hurt that little bit more. So you nodded as if you agreed and when Steve lit the cigarette and let it hang between his lips, you stared at the floor as he stared at you. Then he was nodding towards the door and expecting you to follow him. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t move. Eddie chuckled, a dark thing that made Steve glare at him but he looked over at you, cigarette between his fingers as it turned down quicker than he could smoke it. “Honey, let’s go.”

You still didn’t move. 

So Steve looked at you and then he looked at Eddie and scoffed, waving a dismissive hand before he left the room and left the house. 

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

You didn’t hear from Steve for the first few days after the party. 

Four days went by without seeing him and honestly, that was okay with you. He stayed away from the clubhouse, even when you saw Billy and Eddie in the lounge, Jonathan at poker nights, Steve wasn’t with them. You saw his car around town now and then, passing the maroon BMW as you drove home from work late at night, watching its tail lights speed away in your rear view mirror. You wondered if he had another girl in the front seat, someone else he called honey and fucked on the living room sofa. 

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You knew this would happen, you were just stupid enough to let it. You knew you’d get your heart broken, you knew you’d be the one left hurt. Because despite Steve’s proclivity for showering you in gifts and sex, you did have fun with him. He was sweet when he wanted to be, when he took off his suit and tie and shut off his pager. The business calls would stop and he’d forgo the expensive wine and designer shoes in favour of bringing a bag of your favourite chocolate, a dollar from the gas station and more appreciated than he realised. 

There had been a night he’d taken you his kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you with an intensity you’d never felt from him before, his forehead pressed to yours, his soft murmurs falling into your open mouth. 

“Eyes on me, honey, keep watchin.”

“You’re so pretty, y’know that? Could stay inside you all fuckin’ night, Jesus Christ.”

“There she is, there she is, look at you, huh? Fuckin’ perfect at takin’ me.”

It had made you feel giddy, fuzzy, coming on Steve’s cock harder than ever and after he slid out of you he ran you a bath instead of taking you home. He didn’t join you like you asked, scoffing at the idea of lavender bubbles and water hot enough to scald him but he did sit on the tiles, shirtless and with his hands in the tub, fingers trailing over your water slick legs. He told you about the places he’d been, beaches and cities, the towns he’d think you’d like. And in the candle light, at three in the morning, with no one else around, Steve told you that he’d have to take you one day. 

You’d hummed, pleased, heart racing at the idea of something coming from all of this. Not a free holiday, but someone to be with. A boyfriend, maybe, a partner. Someone who loved you as good as they fucked you. You weren’t deluded, you knew this wasn’t love. Not yet. But this handsome man came to the bar one day and decided that you were going to be his in some way or another. He wined you, dined you, spoiled you. Fucked you the way you asked and looked at you with stars in his eyes every time you got on your knees for him. He didn’t want you kissing anyone else, even when he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. 

There were times you thought he would. Times he looked at you like he wanted to, needed to. Straying closer and closer to your lips every time he kissed you goodnight, a lingering thing on your cheek that you wished you could bottle up and keep. He’d let his lips graze over you when he fucked you, pressing you into the cushions of his couch because even taking you to his bed was too intimate, too much like a relationship. So he’d fuck you slow in his living room, in the glow of the fireplace with the red wine forgotten on the table as he lost himself in it all, mouth skimming over the planes of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, the very fucking corner of your bottom lip, like that wasn’t as bad as letting him bend you over his mattress. 

Steve Harrington told you that he didn’t get attached, but you weren’t able to promise him the same.  

So your crush gave way to anger, a frustrated annoyance that made your blood simmer when you left work one Wednesday evening, autumn settling over the town as you wrapped your jacket around you a little tighter and headed to your car. Except Steve was leaning against the hood of it, a dozen red roses clutched in one hand. He didn’t look nearly as put together as he normally did, but you thought he was twice as pretty. Still tanned, forever sunkissed even as the leaves on the trees started to fall, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Harvard sweater. He didn’t go to Harvard, didn’t need to, but he looked every part the preppy boy you would’ve fallen in love with if you’d made it to college. 

He looked softer but still as confident as ever as he stayed lounging against your car, like he was waiting for you to come to him. Instead you rolled your eyes and headed to the driver's side of your old Volkswagen, ignoring him as you passed. 

“Wow, you’re just going to pretend I’m not here?” 

Annoyance flared inside of you at the sound of his voice, unapologetic with a touch of entitlement. You scoffed, turning to the boy only to glare and you opened the drivers door so you could throw in your purse. “Most people would start with an apology, Steve.”

He pushed off the front of your hood and came to you, flowers held out as if to say ‘this is the apology.’ You could smell the flowers in the air, fresh and a vibrant red, overflowing from his hand and you could only imagine the price he paid for something that would wilt and die in a few days. 

“You actually have to say it, you know.” You challenged him, eyes meeting his, unblinking, unwavering. Time spent with the richest man in town had given you some confidence of your own, an unflinching boldness when faced with stares in restaurants, whispers in crowded bars. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“Honey,” Steve tried, reaching for your hand. You moved back, out of his reach. He tried another approach, softer, sweeter. “Baby, c’mon. I’m sorry, alright? I am. I shouldn’t have acted like that at the party.”

He was right, he shouldn’t have. So you nodded but kept away, standing stiff and tense as you decided whether you should ask what you wanted to. You crossed your arms, a protective stance, and tried to sound braver than you felt. “Why wasn’t Eddie allowed to kiss me?”

Steve stared at you before he scoffed, setting the roses on your car roof before he shoved his hands into his pockets. His face became passive, a mask, a shield, the one he used on business calls and during luncheons with shareholders in his fathers companies. “So that’s what we’re doing now, huh? Kissing other people in front of each other?”

You could feel your frustration rising to the surface, bubbling and simmering and ready to explode out of you. “Why shouldn’t we? You said it yourself, we’re not together. I’m not your girlfriend.”

Steve avoided the question, eyes flashing instead and he swiped a hand over his face, through his hair. “Honey, please, like you wouldn't throw a fit if I took someone out to dinner, hm? If you found out I’d been taking someone else to nice restaurants and—”

“How do I know that’s not happening already!” You shot back, almost too loud. Mr and Mrs Lewinsky were walking arm and arm to their Mercedes, glancing over to the corner you car was tucked into. Thank god it was dark. You turned back to Steve, face heated. “You leave, like all the time. You’re gone for days and weeks, all over the world with villas and hotel rooms and penthouse apartments. You expect me to believe you don’t have a girl in every city? There’s not another me waiting for you on your living room couch in New York? Monaco? Italy? France? Oh, I’m sorry, do you maybe let them into your bed?”

Steve swore, looking around the parking lot as more people started to flood out now that dinner was over. Valets were moving cars down to the door and you could hear the voice of Frederick bidding guests goodbye. He held his hand out, “give me your keys.”

You stared at him, face screwed up. “What?”

“I said,” Steve repeated calmly, “give me your keys and get in the car.”

You scoffed, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. And you’re not driving my fucking car.”

“I’m not having this conversation here,” Steve muttered and his voice was annoyed. “Either get in and let me drive or I’m marching you across the lot to my own car and you can wave to your boss at the same time.”

Annoyance pricked at your skin, a thousand needles of anger that made your back stiffen and your eyes narrow. “You drive like a fucking formula one wannabe,” you hissed, but still you threw your keys at his chest and marched round to the passenger seat, not caring to see if he caught them or not. “You fuck up my wheels, you’re buying me new alloys, Steve.”

Steve threw himself into the driver's seat and laughed meanly, lifting the bouquet of roses and throwing them into the backseat. Petals scattered everywhere. He slammed the door with the same amount of aggression as you did and once you were seated, he turned to you and smiled too sweetly. “Honey, I’ll buy you a new goddamn car, okay? Put your seatbelt on.”

You sat, stubborn, arms crossed and staring out the window. Your seatbelt remained unfastened. Steve revved the engine and despite the headlights stopping them from seeing who was behind the wheel of the beat up old Volkswagen, they were still staring. 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Just, get us out of here, god.”

“Seatbelt,” Steve repeated. You didn’t move and he tutted. “Where did my good girl go, huh?” He leaned over you and you remained passive, even when his breath was on your jaw and his hand slid around your hip as he did the belt for you. “You used to be so good at doing what you were told.”

“I’m not your girl,” you reminded him, smiling in a way that was anything but friendly. You felt dead behind the eyes, nothing but annoyance when you looked at Steve right then. “Remember?”

Steve grunted, swearing under his breath as he pulled away too fast and the wheels screeched as he sped out of the clubhouse parking lot. He hit sixty on the country roads at the back of Hawkins, screaming past the lake before he pulled off the road, just as you were ready to tell him off. He parked up in an empty lot, nothing but dirt and trees and a view of the water tower in the distance. 

“There’s no other girls,” he said, breaking the silence. It was easier not to yell in the dark, in the closeness of the front of the car, where everything felt intimately softer than before. 

“What?” You scrunched your face, mostly in disbelief as you tried to recall what you had yelled at him before he drove your car away from the scene. 

“There aren’t any girls in other cities. There’s no one fucking waiting for me in Monaco, or, or Cannes, or L.A, no one, okay?”

You scoffed, disbelieving and you unclipped your seatbelt so you could lean against the door, facing him. Steve was still gripping the wheel with one hand, another swiping tiredly over his face, but for what it was worth, he looked sincere. But still, annoyance and the lingering feeling of rejection clawed in your stomach, an awful, ugly thing that made you sneer. 

“Whatever, you really expect me to believe that? The front page of the Hawkins Post ran a damn article about how your new yacht had a mirrored ceiling in one of the bedrooms.” You laughed meanly, sadly, hoping your voice didn’t crack. “Okay, Hugh Hefner, excuse me if I don’t buy your bullshit.”

Steve groaned again, a long suffering thing and he pulled at his sweater sleeves, rolling them up his forearms until his watch face glinted in the light of the moon. “Fine, okay, yeah, I used to! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

No, it wasn’t. 

“Had a girl for each damn arm, alright? But I haven’t— I haven’t—” Steve swallowed and you watched the harsh way his Adam’s apple bobbed, the furrow in his brow deepen. He didn’t look at you when he said, “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

It was a surprise, that was for sure. And what was even more startling, was the fact that you believed him, you truly did. Gone was the businessman facade, the smooth tone of voice that made you call him Mr Harrington. Instead there was a young man in front of you who was doing his best to make you understand. 

“I don’t do relationships, honey, you knew that,” Steve said and he sounded almost sad. “I don’t kiss girls and hope they fall in love with me, I don’t bring them home and take to my bed and let them believe we’ll wake up together in the morning and fuckin’ cuddle.”

You blinked away tears, angry, upset, frustrated tears that burned the corners of your eyes. You sniffed, annoyed, venomous. “Fine. I’m far from declaring my undying adoration for you Steve, don’t worry. But you don’t then get to decide who I get to kiss if you don’t wanna do it yourself.”

Steve stiffened then, turning to you with an angry flash in his eyes and hard set to his jaw. He narrowed his gaze at you and shook his head. “Don’t test me, honey.”

You scoffed, defiant. “Whatever. Take me home, you can walk back to your car.”

“I’m not done talking,” Steve frowned and he couldn’t believe it when you simply laughed and got out of the car. He jumped out after you, bewildered at the sight of you walking through mud and the littering of fallen leaves in your clubhouse uniform, heels and all. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Walking,” you shot back, “what does it look like!” 

“Get in the damn car,” Steve said your name and it sounded like a warning, “it’s pitch fuckin’ black out here.”

You didn’t turn around though, arms crossed right across your chest because you’d left your coat in your locker like an idiot. “Then I’ll find a pay phone, call for a ride. Maybe Eddie will come get me.” It was a cheap blow, but it did exactly what it was supposed to. 

The sound of heavy feet marching up behind you, a hand on your arm to stop you from moving and then Steve was in front of you, face scrunched in anger, in frustration. He held your shoulders, slipped his wide hands down the length of your arms until he eased them from your chest and held your fingers between his. 

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Steve asked, his voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He seemed to unravel slightly, a panic in his tone that you’d never heard before. “I— I take you out, I treat you good, right? But you presents ‘n’ pretty things, fuckin’ flowers and shoes and dresses and take you to restaurant openings, parties and, and—”

“I don’t want any of that, Steve!” You yelled, eyes wide. You felt too hot despite the cold night. “I never wanted any of that! I didn’t ask for it.” You blew out a breath but you didn’t drop his hands. “I appreciated it, all of it, I did. I do. But I didn’t need any of that! I enjoyed being with you.”

Steve shook his head at you, lips parted and a look of confusion on his face. Like he’d never been told such a thing before. “So, so what? You want Eddie? None of that, but you want Eddie, is that it?”

You huffed, head thrown back in exasperation and you counted to three, staring at the stars blinking back at you in the night sky and you wondered what you were doing here, you wondered what cruel twist of fate led you to sit down with Steve Harrington that night in the lounge. 

“No,” you eventually said, calmer than you’d sounded before. “No, I don’t want Eddie. God, Steve, I wanted you, alright? This whole time, just you. Not your money, or your cars or your houses or anything else. Just you. I wanted to hold your hand and go on dates. Somewhere stupid and lame like the movies, or, or a drive through for a cheap burger and shake. I wanted you to kiss me goodnight and kiss me good morning and maybe, I don’t know,  have sex with me on a mattress like a normal couple.”

You sniffed, willing away the tears that came with your speech. You weren’t prepared to cry over a man who didn’t want you the way you wanted him. But you watched Steve’s expression fall, a crumpled thing that made him look young and boyish. He dropped your hands only to move closer and cup your face instead, his thumb soothing over your bottom lip like he could will your upset away. You watched his gaze fall to your mouth, following the movements his thumb made across the seam of your lips like he wanted to put his against yours. His lips parted and he looked pained. 

“I’m not asking you to fucking marry me, Steve, but god, why won’t you at least kiss me? Am I that much of a throw away toy for you that you won’t even—”

“Because if I kiss you, I’ll fucking fall in love with you, okay!” Steve barked out, sudden and rushed and panicked sounding. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath, letting his hands fall to your neck, his head falling forward. “God.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. 

“You don’t think I know I can get any girl I want?” Steve laughed and it sounded powerful, it sounded like money. “Honey, I walked into the club that day and saw your pretty face and knew I was fucked.” Steve lifted his head so you could see him again, lips parted in surprise at his admission but he just smiled. He brought a hand back to your cheek, smoothed a thumb over the apple of it, down the line of your jaw. “So I told myself I could just have some with you, see how good you looked without that uniform on, maybe spoil you a little and whatnot.”

“You’re a pig,” you told him but you didn’t move away. 

“I know,” Steve shrugged. “Wasn’t looking for a wife honey, I just loved the way you got all huffy with me, how sweet you’d get when I got my hands on you.” Steve dragged his thumb down your neck, pressed lightly and watched the way you tilted your chin up for him. “You’re just so fucking pretty.”

“But then you had to get under my skin didn’t you? Thought about you all the goddamn time and couldn’t look at any other girl without seeing your face instead.” Steve tsked, walked you backwards until you were against the side of your car and pressed against him. “Hated it at first, you know. Tried to stay away for longer than I needed to, but shit, got back into town and went straight to the club to see you. There you were, pretty as ever and chewing me out for being gone too long, callin’ me Mr Harrington like you knew it would get me so fuckin’ hot for you.”

Steve grinned when you whined, a knee jerk response to the way he was sliding a hand around your upper thigh, up under the hem of your dress and your head hit the door of your car with a dull thud. “Ate at Michelin star restaurants all ‘round the world, honey, but I’ve never tasted anything as good as you, you know that?” He was on your throat now, mouthing up it, licking a line along your neck until he could nip at your jaw. “Want you, all the time. Just you. It drives me fucking insane and I dunno what to do.”

You felt the fight leave you and you hated yourself for it, feeling weaker every time Steve put his mouth on your skin and his nose was pressed to your cheek now, one hand in your hair and the other squeezing at the dough do your ass under your dress, pulling up the hem of it to expose you to the cool air and it was all filthy. It was all exactly why you entered into this whole situation in the first place. Steve Harrington - money and family name or not - made you feel like you were on fucking fire. 

So you grabbed at him, tried to fight back in other ways, with fingers in his hair so you could tug him down and let him latch his mouth to your neck. He scraped his teeth along the column of it, groaning when you pulled meanly. Steve swore, licking over the bruise he’d marked you with, a pink-red bloom on your skin that would remind you of him even days later. His nose bumped yours as he leaned down to you, crowding you against the car and up against his chest and you were panting, waiting for it, feeling the way he let his nose graze yours, a teasing back and forth that left his mouth hovering over yours. 

“Get in the back,” Steve whispered and it was a quiet order, a soft demand, one that you knew you’d bend to because you were soaked, clit pulsing against the lace of your underwear, and shit, Steve knew that too. 

But it didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. 

“No,” you argued back. You didn’t mean it, this was foreplay. This was everything that got Steve a little hot under the collar, the way you played pretend and tried to get your own way. “You can fuck me here, ‘gainst the door.”

Steve laughed and he pressed the sound into your cheek, teeth against your skin and he pushed a kiss there, a smattering of them as his hands went back under your dress and he pulled down your underwear with the tips of his fingers. He let them fall to the ground, not bothering to pick them up. 

“Get in the car, honey. Front or back, you decide, but either way you’re gonna ride me, okay?” Steve told you and that big, bad businessman voice was back, the one that made your toes curl and your cunt ache. Sweet, syrupy, demanding. He brought a hand between your thighs and cupped you, groaning at the heat and the slick that coated his fingers as he swept them through your folds. “She’s missed me,” he cooed, not asking but telling. Like it was a fact. 

“This is the last time,” you told him and it felt like you were trying to tell yourself that too. “We don’t want the same things, fuck—” you were cut off on a gasp when Steve circled your clit, his gaze heavy and dark as he leaned in and let his forehead touch yours. “S’all gonna end in a mess.”

“In the car, honey,” Steve reminded you, neither agreeing or arguing with your words. There wasn’t any point. You both knew this wasn’t the end. “C’mon, be a good girl for me.”

So you stepped out of your underwear and left them lying, like some sick white flag, a symbol of surrender as you pushed Steve away and opened the back door, sliding over the seats as Steve joined you. The door clicked shut and silence took over, the dark and heavy kind that came with the late night, the one that carried a special type of tension and it filled the whole space, it fizzed and crackled in the air between you and it made you fucking breathless. 

You watched with a tight chest as Steve sat back in the middle  seat, already looking wrecked, his hair a mess from your greedy fingers. He spread his legs as much as he could in the tight space and he nodded to his lap, where you could already see the outline of his dick pressed under the denim. “Sit,” he said. 

Not feeling as ready to argue anymore, you listened to the throbbing between your legs and obeyed, the top of your head grazing the car roof as you slid onto Steve’s lap, thighs spread over his in a way that made you burn that white-blue type of hot, because your dress was too short and your underwear was still outside. He could see everything when you looked down, hem of your uniform flirting too high, the dirty spread of you on display. Even in the low light he could see you shine, wet and ready, all for him. 

But Steve kept his hands on the seats, practically lounging as he tilted his head back to look at you from where you were perched on top of him. He studied you, like a piece of art he was ready to buy. His eyes found yours before his gaze dropped to your nose, your cheeks, the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck. Then he found your lips, parted and wanting, the tip of your tongue peeking from between as if you were just dying for something to taste. 

Maybe his fingers, you liked that. The heavy feel of them on your tongue so you could suck on them while he fucked you slow. Maybe his neck, right where it met his shoulder, that almost always bruised piece of skin that you bit down on when you came, riding Steve’s cock somewhere you shouldn’t and you had to keep quiet. Maybe you wanted his dick, too big to take all of it, but the stretch of your jaw and the hot slide of it over your tongue made you rock your hips against nothing, especially when Steve was feeling extra sweet and swept his hands over your face when you sucked him off, thumbing at the corners of your full mouth as he told you how pretty you looked. 

But he offered none of those. No. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “what do you want?”

You looked at him, a question mark on your face, just able to see the shine of his eyes and the strong lines of his nose and jaw in the dark. His hands remained by his sides. “What?”

Steve smiled, just a small thing. “I said, what do you want?”

“You,” you answered shyly, only after a beat or two of quiet. You kept it deliberately vague, leaving it to the boy to decipher if that meant sex or more. Or both. “I want you, Steve.”

“You don’t want my money,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He knew that already. “Not interested in where I could take you, what I could buy you. No,” Steve's voice grew warmer, softer, fond. “Told you before, didn’t I? I know my girl just wants fucked.”

You squirmed, nodding. Because if this was the last time, you’d make sure you enjoyed it. But then Steve did something even more unexpected. He let his hands settle on your thighs, still a little cold from being outside and you hissed at the slide of them going upupup. He didn’t touch your cunt though, didn’t let his fingers play with you like he usually did. 

“C’mere,” he asked instead. “Close your eyes, yeah?”

Your brows stitched together at his request. You were hardly a stranger to blindfolds and surprises, but this didn’t seem like the time or place. 

“You trust me?” Steve whispered and his gaze was on your lips, waiting. 

It didn’t take you long to nod, because yes, despite it all, despite Steve’s issues with… commitment, you did trust him. You believed him about the other girls, about everything. 

“Good girl. Close your eyes,” Steve asked again and you did. 

The car seemed smaller with one sense gone. Eyes shut and Steve so near. You could feel his warmth, the way he moved into you a little more, closer than before until his breath was fanning over your mouth and chin and his nose was bumping yours. Your stomach tumbled. 

“I can’t promise you anything,” he whispered into you. You could feel his lips moving, a barely there ghost against your own. His touch felt like a secret. “I don’t know how— how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ve never done that. But I can try, if you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure when your own hands had moved but they were fisting the front of Steve’s sweater. The letters for Harvard crushed in your palms and you were holding on for dear life. 

“You said this was the last time,” Steve murmured and you wanted to open your eyes, you wanted to stare him down and challenge him but you did as he asked. You kept your eyes closed. “Is this the last time, baby?”

Baby. 

“Or are you gonna give me a chance? I’ll do my best for you, I swear, I’ll try,” Steve’s mouth was moving over your cheek, kisses pressed there between each word until he was mouthing along your jaw and chin and you were weak, sitting on top of him and feeling like you could melt. “I’ll try for you, honey, don’t wanna lose you. Don’t want you with someone else.”

He was talking faster now, like there was an urgency there that wasn’t before and his hands were skimming up from your thighs to squeeze at your waist before his palms were cupping your jaw and pulling you to him. His lips touched yours, only just and you gasped like you’d been burned. Steve kept you there, panting hard, his own eyes closed now and his brow furrowed. 

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered and his voice cracked. Gone was the businessman. He smelled like mint toothpaste and cologne, like sunscreen. “We can stop this here and I’ll let you go and we can pretend we never met, if that’s what you want.”

You only clung to him tighter, one hand trailing blindly up his neck until you could pull at the longer hairs there and hold him. You made a noise of protest, tears lining your lashes as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut tighter so they’d stay in. You shook your head, nose brushing Steve’s, lips moving over his so, so briefly. 

“I don’t want to stop.”

You weren’t sure what you thought your first kiss with Steve Harrington would be like. You’d thought about it a lot, sure. But it was usually in the heat of the moment, when he was inching inside of you, hips slapping against your own, your fingers tight in his hair and whispering filthy things to each other. You thought he’d kiss you like that, hard and fast and messy, with a dirty lick of his tongue. But Steve moved slowly, almost shy. He hesitated as he brought his thumb over your cheek, a brief touch before he was closing the gap and meeting your lips with his. 

It was slow, careful. Soft. A gentle thing and Steve exhaled shakily, his breath fanning over your cheek as he tilted his head and let you press closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours as the kiss deepened and when you let out a soft noise of appreciation, the boy groaned and his hands fell to your waist, squeezing and pulling you closer still. 

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop. 

Steve pulled away only briefly for you both to suck in a breath, his lips finding yours again until the kiss turned into the kind you’d thought about, a messy, dirty thing that had you whining into his open mouth, tugging at his hair until he let you swallow each groan. Steve’s eyes were closed when he spoke, chest heaving, words a low, rough rasp and his hands were under your dress now, fingertips skimming up the inside of your thighs until you were squirming. 

“Want it, honey? Yeah?” Steve was mouthing over your jaw, kissing at your cheek as you panted, pulling at his belt buckle until you could free his cock from his boxers. He sounded drunk, wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, c’mon, take it. S’all yours.”

Steve let his head fall back, resting on the back seat of the car, eyes hooded as he watched you. You didn’t waste any time, pulling at the button of his jeans until you had enough room to free his cock. He was already hard, leaking for you, his breath hitching when you wrapped a small hand around him and pumped once, twice. You swiped a thumb over the tip, dragged the slick back down the length of him and leaned in, intent on making Mr. Steve fucking Harrington, business man, millionare, poker winner, car collector, fall apart for you.

Your nose slid against and your bottom lip brushed his, a teasing thing that you managed to not give into, even when Steve's lips chased yours. He’d made you wait months for a kiss, he could wait another minute or two. You pumped his cock again, fisting it a little tighter, the way you’d learned that he’d liked. He was quick to pant into your mouth, lips catching yours when he titled his chin up for you.

“Tell me it’s mine,” you coaxed, voice low and sweet, just the way Steve loved to speak to you. You palmed his cock, voice sugar. “Tell me this is mine.”

Steve’s hands swept up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin, grip bordering on too tight, a possessive touch. He was breathing heavily, the windows in the car starting to steam up, condensation running tracks down the glass. “S’yours,” he slurred, drunk sounding, softer than ever. “S’your cock, honey, promise.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, rutting yourself against Steve’s thigh as you touched him, foreheads pressed together, lips catching against each other and it pulled a moan from both of you when you raised up on your knees. Dirty, wet noises filled the car as you ran the head of his cock through your folds and Steve dragged your dress up, pushing the material over your hip so he could watch you sink down onto him, taking every inch.

He helped you bounce, up and down, up and down before you started a lazy roll of your hips, grinding down against the boy until you were pulling on his hair and whining into the crook of his neck. It was all too much and Steve’s hand grabbed at the nape of your neck, hand fisting in your own hair, bordering on too tight but he brought your face back to his, eyes half lidded as he gazed at you and pleaded: “shit, honey, kiss me? Kiss me, please, fuck-- m’gonna come.”

His neediness made you groan, a pitchy, breathy noise that Steve soon swallowed, your lips melting between his as he caught you in a kiss, open mouthed and possessive, teeth and tongues as he came. His hips bucked up as you rode him harder and the boy let go of your hair to cup your jaw, his free hand falling to rub at your clit with two fingers, white hot pleasure shooting up your spine. You fell into him, letting Steve catch you and you kissed him, eyes glassy, squeezed shut, your mouth on his as you both came hard. You felt Steve’s cock twitch, spilling into you as he kissed you, chest heaving against yours and as your hips slowed, so did his kisses, softer, kinder.

“You okay?” he breathed, breath fanning over your lips, your cheeks, your gaze blurry and unfocused. “Baby, you with me?”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

You nodded, nose knocking against his but you didn’t dare pull away. You didn’t want to. And by the looks of things, Steve wasn’t ready to let you go either. His hands soothed over your hair, pushing back the stray strands that clung to your damp forehead, your warm cheeks. He was still inside of you, softening only slightly, a mix of you both spilling over your thighs. It was dirty, filthy, it was the most tender thing you’d experienced with him.

“So good,” Steve breathed, cheeks flushed, his eyes shining. He looked drunk, he looked as gone as you felt, his hands roaming over you, touching every piece of bare skin he came across, palming greedily at your hips, your thighs, your ass. He dotted a line of kisses from your neck to your cheek, nosing there until you lifted your chin for him and kissed his lips, sighing as you did. “So fuckin’ good for me, all the time, huh? My girl, fuck, you’re so pretty, so, so pretty.”

You lazed against him, soaking up his touch, his words, the insane feel of his lips over your skin, your throat, chasing your lips until you pressed into him, opening your mouth when he did, tongues brushing over each other in languid strokes. Steve kissed like he fucked, like he wanted you to feel every part, like he wanted you to remember it for days.

“Come home w’me,” he murmured into your lips, never leaving them, never stopping his kisses. Steve whispered between words, hummed happily when your hands clasped his cheeks, when your fingers trailed over the stubble on his jaw. “Come back to mine, please. We can talk ‘bout everything. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, I’ll wake up beside you. Please.”

Your heart stopped at the idea of it all. The intimacy you hadn’t been given yet. The thought of Steve talking to you about something as serious and long term as a relationship. No dropping you home after five orgasms, kissing the back of your hand as he dropped you at your apartment at three am. No running off to an airport, no flights, no meetings, no business calls to interrupt. 

“You can’t cook,” is what you said, voice muffled by his shoulder, the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck. 

Steve scoffed, laughing even though you could hear the nerves there. He nosed at your cheek until you emerged, a hand wrapping gently around your neck, thumb pushed to the underside of your chin so you’d meet his gaze and the sincerity there took your breath away. You were still on his lap, his softening cock still inside of you but neither of you made the move to unravel from the other.

“I mean it,” he whispered and in the quiet of the night it was like you could hear his heartbeat. A thumpthumpthump that rattled the air between you, but fuck, maybe that was your own. “Come home with me, honey. I wanna-- I wanna make this right.”

-------

The next morning, Steve woke you up with his lips on your cheek, a soft, cautious thing that you leaned into even half asleep. Your bare chest pressed to his, your legs stretching out alongside the boy’s. You turned, arms needling around Steve’s neck so you could find his lips with yours, mouths searching, needy, suddenly desperate even with half closed eyes. 

“Morning,” you murmured.

“Mornin’, honey,” Steve whispered back and you couldn’t see with your closed eyes but the boy was smiling, soft and proud and fond. 

You were right, the night before, in the car. Steve didn’t cook. So after a shared shower where you let Steve hook your leg over his shoulder and kiss at your cunt until you came on his tongue - his eyes on your the entire time, his nose squished all pretty against your pussy as he came in his own fist, the waterfall shower raining down on you both - Steve took you out for breakfast.

Dressed in a pair of his running shorts that you had to roll up and one of his hoodies that had a tiny Yves Saint Laurent logo on the chest, you were relieved to find a pair of sneakers in your trunk. You’d mumbled that you’d looked ridiculous, but Steve had just used your embarrassment to kiss you again, hands on your cheeks and pulling you to him in the driveway. 

He got to take his car instead of yours, only because you got to choose where to eat. 

So Steve Harrington drove you both from his three story townhouse in his shiny BMW to a Mom and Pop’s just out of town. He held your hand across the parking lot, held the door open for you and plucked at his sweater collar to pull you in for a kiss over the table, red leather seats sticking to his expensive jeans. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, didn’t mutter about missing out on eggs benedict and caviar at the clubhouse because here, he got to kiss you all he wanted.

And it was worth it, to watch the way you softened for him, feet against his under the table, sharing a strawberry milkshake that didn’t really go with the hashbrowns and bacon you’d ordered. It was worth it, to leave his pager at home, to ignore the incessant beeping, emails pinging in his office about flights, meetings, business deals, money, shares, stocks. 

Steve was realising it was all worth it, to have you. 

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life 

Three Years Later.

The sway of the boat made you feel weightless. A miracle really, considering how heavy you actually felt. The italian sun warmed your skin, mostly bare from your bikini, straps slipping down your shoulders as you lay flat on a lounger, sunglasses covering your eyes from the harsh blue skies above.

The water was the same colour, the gentle lap of the ocean on the sides making you sleepy. The bustle of the city was barely heard, Monaco in the distance as the yacht bobbed just outside of the harbour. Despite its size, The Smart Girl hardly had anyone on board. You were on the deck, catching the last of the day’s sun, with a few staff members milling around. And Steve? Steve was in one of the rooms he’d made into his office from home, a big oak desk taking up most of the space and he’d sit for hours taking calls, pouting at you from the open door as he tried to coax you in to sit on his lap. You’d always refuse, stretching out on your lounger, bikini top riding up, giving him a show until he could string enough words together to make an excuse to whatever big shot millionaire was on the other end of the line.

“There’s my baby.”

The lounger dipped as Steve pushed a knee to the cushion, crowding over you, leaning in to greet you with a kiss, tasting like aperol and oranges. You hummed into him, salt on both of your lips from the sun, the sea. Steve kissed your cheek too, moving down to nuzzle at your neck as his hand skimmed over your belly, the slight swell of it making your red bikini bottoms stretch out.

“And my other baby,” Steve cooed cupping your growing tummy. 

“You said an hour, tops,” you complained but there wasn’t any heat behind it. It was hard to be annoyed about Steve leaving you to your own devices when the Mediterranean sea was rocking you to sleep. “No more business, right?”

Steve smirked at your bossiness, nodding as he leaned back down to ghost some kisses along your shoulder, he nipped at your jaw and hummed. “No more business, honey. M’all yours.”

The trip was supposed to be a babymoon of sorts, even though you were only a few months into your pregnancy and you were sure Steve would whisk you off somewhere else warm and sunny as the months passed. But he’d promised no business, no meetings and when the chance to join a conference call with the owner of the city's most prestigious club arose, Steve caved. 

“I’ll buy you somethin’ pretty to make up for it,” he’d told you and you’d tried to act huffy but after three years together, the man saw right through you. 

“How’d the call go?” You asked him, eyeing him greedily as he popped some buttons on his shirt, the white linen falling open to show off sunkissed skin, the gold chain around his neck. 

Steve slipped his sunglasses from his pocket onto his nose, made sure to wink at you over the frame of them so you knew he saw your appreciative gaze. He stretched out next to you, one of the staff members appearing - Paul - with a tray of lemon water and glasses as he got comfy. “It went well,” he smiled his thanks to Paul and gave you a class, coaxing you to drink up. “We scheduled another call for when we’re back home to iron out some details. I told him my pretty wife would have me thrown overboard if I took any longer.”

Steve grinned when you frowned. “I wouldn’t do that,” you mumbled. “I’d just yell at you for a bit.”

Steve leaned in, still smiling, nosing along your jawline as his hand plucked at the flimsy strap of your bikini. “You know that would just get me all hot, right?”

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your smile in his neck, tipping it back to let Steve kiss the skin there. He still smelled like he did when you first met him, the same expensive cologne, sunscreen and the Italian countryside. “You make me sound so bossy,” you murmured, meeting him for a kiss. 

“You are,” Steve whispered, his hand back on your tummy, his thumb running over the bump in soft circles. “M’whipped, remember?” He held up his other hand, the band on his ring finger glinting in the sun. 

“You complained when Eddie said it,” you teased. 

“That’s ‘cause Eddie’s a dick,” Steve shot back but it was light hearted. “Speaking of, I promised him we’d meet him for dinner when we got back. I know it’s not your favourite but—”

“The clubhouse?” You groaned, pouting. “Really?”

“He loves the steak tartare there, honey, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I was fired from there—” you reminded him, voice surly. 

“You’re a member there,” Steve quipped back. He kissed your palm, over your knuckles, lips grazing the diamond on your finger. 

“—after my boss caught you going down on me in the ladies changing rooms,” you continued, cheeks still hot at the memory even if it was years ago. You’d never forget the expression on Frederick’s face. “I can’t look that man in the eye, never mind order dinner from him.”

“Fun times,” Steve smirked. “Don’t you love being able to click your fingers at the man who made your life hell? Order the most expensive champagne with all your money?”

You whined, a fake complaint as Steve manhandled you into his lap, letting you lie between his legs, your back resting his chest. He was warm from the sun, strong, solid. “I don’t click my fingers at anyone, Harrington. It’s rude. And it’s not my money, I’m unemployed. I’m basically a leech,” you pouted up at him, all faux dramatics. 

Steve snorted at your words before leaning down, skimming his lips over your hairline, his hands, wide and warm, cupping the swell of your tummy. “You’re not unemployed, you’re on maternity leave. And studying. No woman of mine is working while she’s growing our baby,” he kissed your nose when you tilted your chin up to him, smiling. “And what’s mine is yours, Harrington,” he shot back. 

“Your woman?” You raised your brows at his words. 

“My favourite one,” Steve whispered. He was still all charm, even after the years had passed. His voice grew softer then, fingers trailing up your ribs. “Can’t wait to take you home - both of you - get settled, build a crib, paint a nursery.”

“You’re not building a crib,” you laughed, eyes shining. It was easy, it was wonderful, being this is love. This happy. “Have you even held a hammer before, Steve?”

He responded by nipping at your neck, enticing a squeal from you, a choked laugh. “You’re incredibly rude, Mrs Harrington, I’ll let you know I have, actually.”

You turned in his arms, kneeling between his thighs and you watched as his eyes darkened, gaze trailing over the way your breasts pushed out, the way your thighs pressed themselves together. “That’s not important,” he answered tartly and he grinned when you snorted. 

The new house back in Indiana was modest, by Steve’s standards. But he’d let you choose, a family home that was built in the 1800’s with big, bay windows, original cornicing and a fireplace in each bedroom. A perfect family home, with more rooms in it than you could’ve ever imagined having.

It had been easier than you’d thought, to get here. With Steve Harrington, married and with a baby on the way. Not that you’d expected it, not back then. But weeks turned into months and months turned into years, your first anniversary sailing by without much issue. There were arguments, forlorn phone calls when Steve left for business and you had to work, shouting matches when the boy came home and tried to get you to quit work altogether, ‘cause you didn’t need a wage when you had him, right?

But he was quick to compromise, when it came to you. Kissing away your upset, swapping expensive gifts for genuine apologies, your favourite flowers that came by the handful instead of the boxes of hundred dollar bouquets made by someone else. Was he smug about it when the job at The Lake House came to an end? Sure. Too smug, maybe, considering he gave a half assed apology to Frederick with your lipstick trailed across his cheek and jaw. But he supported you - celebrated you - when you got a new position in a paralegal’s office, picking back up your textbooks that you once had to abandon. 

There was a big bed to share now, a wardrobe that held both your clothes, suits and silk dresses, your old sweaters, Steve’s knitwear that was practically all yours. Your toothbrush next to his, your vinyls next to his record player, a stocked fridge with all the ingredients for his favourite meals, ready for you to reach him how to cook. There was sex, holidays, hotels, more sex, nights on the sofa with blankets and movies, a diamond, Steve in the driver's seat in the parking lot of that Mom ‘n’ Pops diner, the ring clutched between his shaky fingers as he told you how much he loved you. A pregnancy test, staring back at you both from the bathroom vanity, a year after the wedding in Cannes, the honeymoon in the Maldives. 

Unplanned, yes? Unexpected, definitely. Did it make you both overwhelmingly excited? More than you could express. 

Steve took your chin in his hand, pulling you in, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip, his eyes growing softer when you kissed at it. “Are you happy?” he whispered.

“With you?” you answered, smiling. “Always.

[madebyrolo]

Goosebumps

Rafe Cameron x reader

She/her

summary: becoming parents in toppers parents room.

warnings: smut, alcohol and drugs.

obx masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

7:30

The clock read in Rafes truck. Y/n and Rafe were on their way to a Toppers party. She was wearing a black mini skirt and a grey tube top paird with small boots and Rafe with a black t shirt and grey cargo pants with grey dunks.

They soon arrived to the house, colored lights beaming through the window, Travis Scott blasting loud enough you can hear it from down the street.

As Rafe parked in the driveway, he got out opening the door for his girlfriend. Giving her a hand as he helped her down and out the car leading them both inside. They went up stairs meeting up with Topper, Kelce greeting one another. They sat in a more secluded room, with just them and random people in the corner doing lines. They had a bottle passing it around amongst them getting the party started.

"So where's Sarah?" Y/n asked after not seeing her

"She dumped his ass for a pouge" Kelce laughed taking a hit from his vape

"Damn that's tough man. I thought you would've lasted longer than the rest" she giggled while taking a shot.

"With John b too" Rafe added

"Wait isnt his father yk... like.." y/n motioned a knife slitting her throat.

༺☆༻

"Yes he's gonna soon end up like his old man if his friend don't stop tryna start shit." He said with pure venom

“Chill out Topper, beside her lost. You were my favorite, you’re kind, sweet and a hell of a golf player” she praised him

"Thank you y/n i appreciate..." he said looking down twiddling his thumbs

"Hey hey no tears! We're at your fucking party man. You have many girls around take your pick. Get your mind off of her and hella maybe even fall in love." She said rasing her hands

"Yea Top, maybe their drunk enough not to think it though" Kelce told topper earning a hit the back of his head.

“Come on let’s get get shit faced” Rafe said getting up and the rest following him.

They soon joined the party down stairs taking shots with groups of people. Y/n grabbed the pink plastic shot glass filled with Don Julio, and a piece of lime. She tilts her head up letting the tequila slowly go down her throat burning every crevice then sucking the lime between her lips. While Rafe talked with his buddies y/n headed to the kitchen to fix herself a drink. She grabbed the Malibu bottle took a shot for herself put at least 4 in a red solo cup, then added 1 part pineapple juice and another part cranberry making a “pink pirate”.

She headed to a different room, filled with random strangers until the alcohol sets in. After she finished her drink she was finally buzzed, she started dancing with the girls hyping each other up and cracking drunk jokes soon become party besties. The smell of weed and alcohol filled their nose and the strobe lights, smoke, and alcohol affected their vision. Everyone in their fantastical drunken haze.

A couple minutes passed by and Rafe realized y/n wasn’t in the room, so he left and went to go find her. He searched room from room soon finding her on the 1st floor next to the kitchen. He spots her with girls he did not recognize as her friends. Y/n was grinding up on one of them her hands through her hair and eyes closed smiling feeling the rhythm. He watched her closely making sure there wasn’t anything too crazy going on, although he wouldn’t mind watching he knew how drunk y/n was for her to be like this.

His eyes took in every inch of her. The way her breasts slowly were peaking out her shirt, the skirt riding up her thighs with her ass barely out. Her hair fell perfectly on the sides of her face and a drunken smile plastered her face. Her body moved perfectly with the beat of the music, sliding into the other girl's frame, with her hands on y/n hips. If they were both in the right mind state he would be insanely jealous right now.

Y/n starting taking more shots with the girls, he watched as her tounge swiped against another girls shoulder as they placed salt on it, downing her shot following with some juice being poured down her throat by another. Rafe soon joined in, he walked towards his girlfriend grabbing and pulling her by the waist engulfing her in a soft yet heated kiss. The other girls were cheering them on offering him a shot. One of the girls grabbed the shot shaker and made y/n lean back before dumping a bit on her boobs. With that, he did what she did.

He looked at her with lust in his eyes, sending a smirk before putting his face down on her breast. He kissed them before sliding his tongue slowly across them licking up the salt. The feeling of Rafes mouth touching her sent goosebumps down her body like a little virgin. He soon downs the shot like water, demanding another doing it all over again.

Soon the whole room goes back to their little dance party after many shots. Rafe and Y/n dancing together, chest to chest with y/n grinding on his leg. His hands on her ass holding her against him as they star at each other with a playful smirk plastered on Rafes face. He starts kissing her going down to her neck leaving small bites that will definitely leave a mark for her to cover up tomorrow. Y/n tugging his hair with his face deep in her neck, his breath and wet kissing making her let out small groans out her lips.

He lets go soon letting her dance freely. He gets a hold of a blunt, and join a group of dudes in the corner talking about their sports and their cars and guy things while their girlfriends dance with each other.

But Rafe could not stop staring as his girl. The way her body flowed with the music, her ass grinding on another girl, the way her hair fell on her face perfectly and her sweat made her body glisten as the lights hit her.

Y/n looked up locking eyes with Rafe. The stone cold look on his face that was pleased yet with a hint of jealousy. Y/n grabbed the girls hands and touched her body, guiding the hands all over her. Eyes locked with Rafes. She smiled while his jaw clenched while he smiled.

Soon the other guys staring paying attention to the two girls, borderline porn fantasies playing right in front of them. One of the dudes managed their way behind the other girl so now it was 3 of them grinding eachother. They soon passed y/n a shot and placing the salt once again on the girls breast. Rafe watched the scene unfold as the boys and girls watched in hunger with more cheering with the song One Call by Rich Amiri playing in the room. Y/n downed the shot like it was water and her tongue latched on the girl as she threw her head back with a moan.

Rafe walked up to y/n spinning her around grinding on her as they all continued to dance. Their bodies melting together and their hands intertwined. Rafe sent small kisses behind her ears as his hands were between her thighs.

“Let’s take this somewhere else yeah?” Rafe whispered into her ear.

“Mhm baby.” Y/n slurred out.

Rafe led them out the room. Y/n followed behind hand in hand as they went up the stairs. Rafe walk into the master bedroom locking the door behind them. Immediately y/n laid down as Rafe walked over towering over her as she giggled.

“Come here pretty boy” she said as she pulled him by his shirt between her legs.

Wasting no time Rafe staring pulling down his pants as they kissed while y/n pulling off his shirt. She threw it to the side as he pulled her skirt up, ripping her panties off.

“I’ll buy you news ones doll.” He said as he pulled off her top throwing it with his clothes.

He took his fingers placing them on her clit, in the letter “R” motion. At first, when he started doing it y/n thought it was impractical but she soon find out it was the perfect clit and lip convo.

Kissing with moans in between as y/n starting to grab his dick stroking up and down. Begging with her hips as she bucked them into his hands.

“What did I say about using your words kid.” Rafe said in between kisses.

“Mhm I know sorry Rafey” she said as she was being stimulated with his hands.

Rafe put two fingers in without earring warning to tease her for his dick.

Going in and out feeling her juices and her walls clenching over his two “small” fingers.

“Mmm baby please” y/n barley let out.

“Baby please what ?” Rafe asked playing dumb

“Baby please,” she said in between moans, throwing her head back so deep into the feeling her his finger being able to reach her g spot hitting it perfectly.

“Fuck me Rafe.” She finally got out.

Rafe immediately took his fingers out, grabbing his dick not even taking his time. He shoved his rock hard dick into her.

Feeling her tight all around him like it was their first time sent him over the edge. He was starting to go at a slow pace trying to tease her but soon found it impossible.

Going at a medium speed, both in a moaning mess. Y/n nails digging into Rafes back as he pounds into his girl.

Soon enough y/n gets richer and tighter around him.

“Rafe Im close.” She says between moans.

As with that, he started doing faster. Hitting her g spot harder and harder with each thrust. Groaning with the pressure on his tip.

Him also reaching his high. As y/n finally finishing Rafe keeps going faster. Y/n knows he’s about to cum so she starting rubing her clit getting off just by the looks of Rafe completely pussy drunk.

The way his bangs fall in his face and the sweet beads all over his body. The smell of beer and sex fills the room.

With each thrust getting sloppier y/n wraps her legs around Rafe. Bet fingers get faster and faster reaching her high as she feels Rafe twitch inside her.

“Finish in me.” y/n says

and with that he did. Both finishing together as their juices mixing together inside her pussy.

Rafe falls right beside y/n, both catching their breaths.

A couple minutes later they finally got their clothes on, cleaning up in the connected bathroom.

As they walk open the door they are meeting with Topper.

“Did you guys just have sex in my parents bed?”

──── ꩜ .ᐟ ────

★

Didn’t think smut was this hard to write as a virgin.

Sorry for any typos!

[topguncortez]

For Her Hand | Jake x Shy!Reader

Opposites Attract Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: Jake has a very important dinner with a very important man, even though he's already ask a very important question.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, fluff:)

Jake was sweating. 

He probably had sweat stains on the underarms of his dress shirt, and he was now worried that he was going to have to use the bathroom before James got here. Tonight was the night that Jake was going to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage. . . even though he already proposed. 

Jake knew it was soon, hell they had only been dating for four months and living together for one, but she was his one and only. Y/N was the only person Jake saw himself with for the rest of his life. Every night he dreamt of the life they would have together, the names of their children, what they would look like, the big house he would build her, and the garden that she would spend hours out in. 

Jake hadn’t always had a good reputation when it came to women, and it was pretty well known. Throughout the academy and flight school, it wasn’t uncommon to see Jake leave with a new woman. There was a part of him who had spent years searching for the person to fill the void in his heart that had been festering from years of striving for his father’s attention and love. And Y/N was the person who filled it in a very healthy way. 

When James first heard about Jake’s and Y/N’s relationship, he was not thrilled. He had seen flyboys like Jake before. He knew what they got up to on postings and detachments, and didn’t want his daughter to join the club of broken hearts. He had also seen and heard the broken cries of their partners when an officer walks off the ship and hands them a neatly folded flag. James felt ill every time he thought about his daughter being in that position. 

But then he saw how they interacted with each other at the Naval ball, and Vice Admiral James “Hercules” Parker was proven wrong. He could see the love that Jake had for his daughter. And even though nothing was promised in their line of work, James knew he couldn’t stand in the way of true love. 

Jake wiped his hands on his pants for what seemed like the thousandth time that hour as he looked around the restaurant for James. He felt like dinner was a more professional way to ask to marry his daughter than doing it over drinks at the Hard Deck or a round of golf, or blurting out in the middle of a meeting (like Coyote had done with Warlock). What made his nerves stay somewhat at bay was that Jake was kind of doing this all backward. He had already proposed to Y/N when he came home from his last deployment and she had said yes. Blame it on the heat of the moment and being a hairsbreadth away from death, but Jake couldn’t wait any longer without making her his forever. 

“Jacob,” James said as he walked to the table. Jake stood up and greeted James with a handshake, “Missing Thursday night football for this.” 

“I’m sorry sir,” Jake said and took another drink of his water. James eyed him suspiciously, seeing the young man's hands shake, as a waiter walked to the table. 

“Anything to drink for you two, tonight?” The waiter asked. 

“Top-shelf whiskey,” James nodded, “Make that two, neat.” 

“Oh, I’m good with water,” Jake said. The waiter nodded and went to go get their drinks, “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.” 

“I can see that,” James said, “Didn’t think that the ‘Hangman’ could get nervous,” Jake cringed at the way James said his callsign as if it were some sort of dig. Some sort of pass to let Jake know that he wasn’t good enough for his daughter, “What’s on your mind son?” 

“I uh,” Jake scratched the back of his neck, trying to gather his thoughts, “I love you, daughter,” James nodded, “A-and I did this whole thing backward and I apologize for it. My dad drilled into my head that you always ask for permission first before you do anything with another man’s daughter. But sir-” 

“James,” 

Jake nodded, “James, I don’t ever want to see a day where your daughter is not by my side. When I thought I wasn’t going to make it back to her. . . well, it was the worst thing ever. I had to make a promise to her when I got back on solid ground, and I did. And now, I gotta make it right. If you would please grant me the blessing, I would love to marry your daughter.”  

James looked at him for a moment, the silence becoming so thick between the two men. Jake felt a cold sweat go down his spine, but then he saw a smile break out across James’ face, “I knew this would come sooner or later. I was hoping for later, but,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black ring box, “She used to wear this around the house as a little girl. It was my mother’s.” 

James placed the box on the table and Jake gingerly picked it up. Inside sat a beautiful diamond attached to a silver band. The diamond had to be nearly three carats and had smaller diamonds around it. Jake looked up at James, tears brimming his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask-” 

James shook his head, cutting Jake off, “I did the same thing nearly thirty years ago,” James chuckled, “I lost my wingman and almost burned in myself. The moment I got home to Clara, I told her that I could not go back up into the sky without knowing I was going to have her forever. Then she dragged me to the courthouse that same day,” James shook his head with a smile, “I knew this moment was coming at some point in time, when 'dad' stopped being the only man in her life. The only man she looks at with those eyes. No dad is ever ready for that day, and one day, hopefully, you'll have the same experience."

Jake could only imagine the day he would have a little girl and hoped she’d look like Y/N. He could see it now, a beautiful daughter that had her mother’s beautiful eyes and smile, and her personality. If she was born with Jake’s. . . lord help them all, she was going to be a firecracker. 

“Does this mean that I. . .” 

“You have my blessing to marry my daughter.” 

— — — 

After dinner was over, Jake probably broke every traffic law to get home to Y/N. He smiled as he noticed the lights in the backyard were on and the sound of her giggle was in the air. He could hear the small barks of the German shepherd puppy he had gotten her as a companion for when he’s gone on deployments. Jake grabbed the bouquet of pink carnations and basically skipped to the backyard. 

“Bring it back, Steve!” Y/N called as the puppy hustled his way back to his owner, “Good boy!” Steve’s attention turned the second that the gate to the backyard was opened. Even for a puppy, his barks were still loud, startling Y/N. She turned around, seeing Jake standing there with a goofy grin on his face. 

“What are you-” 

“Marry me,” Jake said, cutting her off. 

Y/N giggled, “Sweetheart, I already said yes. Did you hit your-” 

“Nope,” Jake shook his head and walked over to where she was kneeling on the ground. Steve growled a bit as Jake got close to his mother, “Hey, I was the one who adopted you and let you chew on the seatbelts in my truck.” Steve gave Jake a look, before trotting off into the backyard, “Animals.” 

“Be nice,” Y/N playfully scolded, and sat down in the grass, “How did dinner go?” 

“Went great,” Jake said, sitting down next to her and pulling her into his lap, “He gave me his blessing and gave me this,” Jake pulled out the ring from his pocket. 

Y/N gasped, “My nana’s ring! Oh my god, I thought I lost that!” 

“Your dad kept it and gave it to me,” Jake said. He grabbed Y/N’s hand and took off the fifteen-dollar ring he bought at Target that was slowly starting to turn green, “Now, we can make it official,” Y/N turned her head to look at him, “What do you say, Mrs. Seresin?” 

Y/N smiled and turned in his lap so she was straddling him, “I think you should’ve told him I’m already Mrs. Seresin, but. . .” She tilted her head back and forth, “Baby steps.” 

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” Jake smirked as he wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped them over. Y/N’s giggles filled the air as Jake pressed kisses all over her face. Her ring glittered in the moonlight.

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[mountsmase]

a/n: hi 🤭 I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of the love on my last fic, I was so nervous to post it and it means the world that you all enjoyed it 🩷 this fic is just a little something that came to my mind after all the golf content we got last weekend and it ended up being so much longer than I thought 👀 I loved writing this but it is still only the second piece of smut I’ve ever written, so it’s not perfect but I really do hope you guys enjoy it 🩷

word count: 5k

genre: Smut/Fluff

———————

Patience - MM7

You watch as Mason approaches the tee box, failing to follow the path of the ball when he eventually hits it.

The flexing of his muscles and the black ink of his tattoos a much more appealing sight to you, which you find yourself struggling to pull your gaze away from.

You’re currently sat on the cold, faux leather seat of a golf buggy, playing spectator whilst Mason plays a round of golf with a few of his friends.

It’s a rare week where neither of you have any obligations. International break has given him some free time after a busy month of matches and you finally have some time off work.

You knew he’d be playing golf with the boys today, and when he initially invited you to join them a couple of days ago you’d been hesitant and had ultimately said no. Letting him know that you wanted him to spend some uninterrupted quality time with his friends, which is something he’s not been able to do in a while.

He’d been pouty, arguing that he’d not been able to spend time with you in a while either, but you managed to convince him to go without you, really not wanting to infringe on his time with his friends. After all, you had the whole rest of the week to spend together, you could last one more day being without each other.

Or so you thought.

When he rolled out of bed early this morning, placing a quick kiss onto your forehead before asking you one more time if you wanted to join him, you caved.

Suddenly not so keen on the idea of being without him all day when you watched him change in to a simple black shirt with trousers that hug his body perfectly.

So here you are.

Woody steps up to take his shot and Mase makes his way back over to the cart. He puts his club away before settling into the seat next to you and takes the moment where the boys are distracted to pull you closer to him. Your body practically on top of his on the little leather bench.

You can’t help but sink into him as he peppers kisses on your shoulder, the light scratch of his beard sending shivers along your body as he continues his way up your neck, your hand landing on his thigh out of instinct.

When he sucks lightly on your soft spot, you slide you hand up a little higher, fingers grasping gently at his skin when you feel the hem of his boxers through the material of his trousers. Two can play at this game.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Masey” you whisper close to his ear.

“Who said anything about stopping?” He replies casually, a little too casually for your liking and when you catch that mischievous glint in his eye you know you’re not going to like whatever he says next.

“Just need to learn a little patience baby, I’m all yours once we’re home, promise” he murmurs close to your ear, placing one last kiss to your shoulder and your whole body heats up at the thought of being alone with him later.

You’re pulled out of your bubble when the rest of the boys climb into their respective carts, pulling away to go and find their balls.

Mason sends you a cheeky wink, hand settling high on your thigh as he follows them down towards the fairway and it’s then that you realise you’re in for a long afternoon.

The rest of the day goes by way too slowly, the time dragging as Mason does everything in his power to rile you up.

He’s always doing something, resting his hand a little too high up your thigh, his head falling into your neck and leaving barely there kisses to your skin when the others aren’t looking, brushing his fingers over you skin or resting against the side of the golf buggy, arms on full display whilst he acts completely innocent. It’s all driving you crazy.

His incessant teasing makes the minuets feel like hours and your patience is wearing thin.

Your busy schedules have meant you’ve not really had time to be intimate together recently, with one of you always being too tired or just generally not having the time.

You miss him loads, and that - combined with his endless teasing and the promises he made earlier - has your mind spiralling every time he so much as looks in your direction.

And you know you’re done for when he messes up his shot at a later hole, letting out a ‘fuck’ as he throws his head back.

All the boys laugh with him, but you find your mind in a completely different place. The sound of the groan leaving his lips and the stretch of his neck as he tilts it back sending a rush of heat straight to your core.

You know in that moment that you need to get him home soon, the urge to touch him becoming harder to resist by the second.

—————

“Finally,” you mutter, speaking under your breath when he pulls his car into the driveway of your shared home many hours later.

You can’t deny that you had a great day, enjoying the time you got to spend with him and his friends, but, after watching him play a full 18 holes, and then having to sit through a long meal at the club house, you’re glad to finally be alone with him - not to mention how incredibly worked up you are after all of his teasing.

You enter the house in front of him, kicking off your shoes before rushing upstairs, leaving him to lock up behind you.

You make your way into your bedroom and plug your phone into charge before heading over to your full length mirror to begin removing your jewellery.

Mase isn’t far behind you and you can see him entering the bedroom in the reflection of the mirror, closing the door softly behind him before making a beeline for you.

He stands behind you, meeting your gaze in the mirror and you almost melt when he reaches up, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he unclips your necklace.

He leans over, placing it into your little jewellery box that sits on the cabinet beside the mirror, and you feel goosebumps spread all over when his chest brushes against your back.

His hands gravitate to your hips, wordlessly turning you around so that you’re facing him and he barely gives you time to prepare before he’s crashing his lips into yours.

His plush lips move against yours in perfect sync, and he’s tightening his grip on your waist to pull you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together and your hands find his shoulders frantically. Needing something to hold onto when you feel his bulge press into you through the layers of clothing that separate you.

He coaxes your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth and the way he brushes it against yours in slow, languid strokes has all over thoughts leaving your mind until all that’s left is him. Him and his lips and his hands that are roaming all over your body.

“Been waiting for this all day” he says between kisses, chuckling against your mouth and you can’t help but roll your eyes. The two of you knowing full well that he was the one making you do the waiting.

His lips disappear from yours, head burying into your neck, carefully nipping at your delicate skin and if it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would’ve melted to the floor then and there.

“Mase” you sigh when he sucks against your sensitive skin, the feeling of his warm lips and the scratch of his beard against your skin sending pleasure shooting down your spine.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, his own roaming over your back and you arch up into him when he finds your sweet spot, teeth grazing the skin before sucking harshly.

“Mason, please” you whimper,

He smirks up at you, “Please what, bubs?”

“You know what”

“I don’t think I do,” he teases, “tell me what you want, baby girl”

“You, your mouth, your fingers, anything, please”

The heat of his body leaves yours and he wordlessly guides you over to the bed, pushing you down gently to sit on the mattress.

“Arms up” he instructs, and you do as he asks, lifting your arms in the air so that he can pull your t-shirt over your head and a groan rumbles in his throat when he notices the bra you’re wearing, the white lacy fabric leaving little to the imagination.

“Lie back for me, baby” he murmurs, and when your back hits the mattress, his lips are quick in finding your collar bone.

He scatters sloppy, open mouth kisses along your chest, stopping every now and then to pay extra attention to the spots where he knows you’re most sensitive.

The little noises leaving your lips spur him on as he makes his way further down your body, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched by his lips.

When he finally meets the waist band of your jeans he taps your hips in a silent request, and you lift them off the bed so that he can pull the denim down and over your legs.

Your panties follow close behind and you’re left bare in front of him.

“So pretty, baby, all of you” he says softly, breath fanning across your hip and his dark eyes meet your shy ones, your whole body flushing at his praise.

Your hands cover your face as he takes in your body beneath his, suddenly feeling insecure under his intense gaze.

“Hey, none of that, no hiding” he climbs up your body, moving your hands away from your face before brushing his lips over yours, “Please don’t ever hide from me, gorgeous”

He entwines his fingers with yours, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles before settling them beside you. Once he’s satisfied you won’t try and shy away from him again, he slides back down your body, kneeling on the carpet and settling in between your legs.

“Can I?” He hums against your thigh, and when he hears you let out a breathy ‘yes’ he leans forward, pressing a barely there kiss to your clit before licking up your entrance.

He works you up slowly, tongue moving skilfully through your folds and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue, the vibrations travelling all over your body. Your head falls back and eyes flutter closed in bliss as he continues to lap at you.

His hand reaches up and takes one of yours, tangling your fingers and letting you squeeze and hold onto him as your body becomes overrun with pleasure.

“Fuck, Mase, feels so good. Don’t stop” you plead and his tongue dips into your entrance, nose nudging against your clit as he begins to eat you out like you’re his last meal.

Your free hand sinks into his hair, needing something else to hold onto as pleasure strikes up your spine, and a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat at the feeling of your hand in his hair.

You begin to squirm against him, struggling to stay still as he continues to suck and lap against you and he hooks his arm under your thigh, hand finding your hip in an attempt to keep you still.

“Shit - Mase - gonna make me cum” you whine and hold on to his hand a little harder.

“Come on, let go for me bubba, I’ve got you” his voice is so soft, so opposite to his actions as he suctions his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nub and that’s all it takes to have you crashing over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, your body thrashing against the mattress as Mason works you through it.

He soothes his tongue over you, working you through it until your whimpering in sensitivity, your hand weakly pushing at his head.

He removes his mouth from you, leaning back so that he can look up at you properly and he swears he’s never seen a more beautiful sight. You, sprawled out on the mattress, hair spread around you like halo, flush covering your cheeks as you smile down at him lazily.

You reach down, hand cupping his cheek and you use your thumb to swipe away a small drop of your cum from his chin before holding it against his lips.

“Taste incredible, baby” he hums around your thumb when he sucks it into his mouth, licking the drop from your fingertip.

He climbs back over you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss and you thread your fingers through his hair, revelling in the weight of his body against yours.

You allow yourself to bask in the brief moment of bliss, letting yourself regain composure after your orgasm.

But it’s not long until you get fidgety again, overcome with the need to touch him.

Your hand makes its way over his clothed shoulder, pushing slightly and you use all of your strength to roll him over, straddling his thighs as he relaxes back into the sheets.

“You’ve got way too many clothes on” you mumble and he chuckles against your lips, sitting up slightly to allow you to pull his shirt over his head.

His trousers are next to go, your fingers finding the button and you’re quick in undoing it, sliding the fabric down his legs with his boxers.

“Much better” you drawl and he lets out a whimper when you lightly scratch your nails across his stomach.

Your lips follow their path, paying special attention to all of his little moles and freckles as you kiss your way down his body, ignoring the area he wants you most to continue your trail down his thighs.

He sucks in a breath and you feel the muscles in his thighs clench when you graze his sensitive skin with your teeth, one of his hands tangling into your hair and tugging gently in an attempt to direct you towards where he needs you.

“Relax, bubba” you whisper against his skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles and you feel him settle beneath you.

“Y/N, please. I need your mouth baby” he begs when he notices that mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Patience is a virtue Mase. You made me wait and I’m simply returning the favour. Now, hands off.” You smirk up at him and he groans in response, throwing his head back into the pillows.

His arms lays limp beside him, and he throws one over his face when you mumble a quick “good boy”, the praise going straight to his cock and you feel a sense of pride when you see it twitch out the corner of your eye.

Then he’s groaning out in frustration when your hands leave him completely so that you can get a little more comfortable between his legs.

One of your hands returns to his thigh, walking your fingers up his skin slowly and he jolts when you finally touch him, length twitching when you run your fingertip along the underside. Not using enough pressure for him to really feel it, but enough to drive him mad.

Your other hand joins and wraps around his base when you reach his tip, smearing the pre cum that’s collected and he lets out a desperate whimper when he feels your thumb rubbing over his slit.

He feels thick and heavy in your palms when you stack your hand on top of the other and twist them slowly, applying a little more pressure and watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, both of his hands clutching the bed sheets in an attempt to not touch you.

“Feel good, Masey?” you coo and he nods his head quickly, unable to form a coherent sentence as his eyes pop open again, just in time to see you lowering your head.

You wrap your lips around his head, your tongue flicking over his slit and you pull your hands away, bracing them on his thighs as you move your mouth further down his length.

You go as far down as you can, and he hisses at the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat before you’re pulling back up.

The moan that leaves his lips has butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Fuck Angel, feels so good, you’re so - oh fucking hell” he moans and you flutter your eyes open, finding his already on you, blown out pupils staring down at you.

You continue to bob your head, hand coming up to work what you can’t fit inside of your mouth and your fingers and lips work in perfect sync.

When your other hand begins fondling with his balls he can’t help it anymore and his hand goes flying to the back of your head.

You let it slide, gazing up at him through your lashes and by the look on his face and the noises leaving his lips, you can tell he’s in heaven.

“I-I’m close,” he moans, fingers tangling into your hair “gonna cum y/n, oh my god” he pants out as you relax your jaw, taking as much of him as you can until your gagging around him.

“Come for me, Mase” you breath out and with a final twist of your hand, he’s cuming into your mouth.

You swallow all of him, working him through his high and when his hips start bucking up out of sensitivity, you leave one final kiss to his tip before pulling off of him.

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re so good at that” he laughs, scrubbing a hand over his flushed face before reaching out for you.

You settle on top of him, feeling his heart beating where your chest presses against his and you leave a series of kisses up his collar bones, making your way up his neck and to his lips.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth and when he tastes himself on your own, he lets out a content sigh.

You stay like that for a few minuets, enjoying the calmness of the moment before you feel him hardening again against your thigh.

You giggle as he hides his face in your neck in embarrassment.

“You okay there?”

“Need to be inside you, angel” he speaks into your neck, neediness evident in his voice.

“I’m all yours, love” you send him a cheeky smile, rolling onto your back when he nudges your shoulder and he crawls on top of you.

His fingers fiddle with your bra, pulling the strap back before letting it snap back into place.

“Let’s get this off” he mumbles and you sit up slightly, allowing him to reach around and unhook your bra.

He pulls the straps down your arm, throwing it somewhere behind him and you watch as his pupils dilate at the sight of you completely bare in front of him.

His lips make their way down your chest, and he speaks between kisses.

“So” kiss, “fucking” kiss, “gorgeous” kiss.

The last kiss lands right next to your left nipple and he doesn’t hesitate to shift slightly, lips leaving an open mouthed kiss to the hardened nub.

He brings his hand up, thumb stroking over the neglected nipple and you arch your back in desperation.

“Mason, need you, please baby” you moan breathlessly, and you here him chuckle against your skin.

“You’ve got me baby,” he whispers right next to your ear, leaving a kiss to your cheek as he spreads your legs a little wider and settles between them.

“You ready, bub?” he asks softly and your lips tug up into a smile.

You cup his cheek and lock your eyes onto his, “Yeah, baby. Want to feel you.”

He nods, nudging his nose against yours as he braces one hand beside your head, the other guiding himself between your folds.

Your hand lands on the back of his neck when you feel him sliding into you slowly, wincing at the slight stretch you feel after not being with him like this for a while.

“You okay?” He asks, voice full of concern when he sees the slight look of discomfort on your face.

You meet his worried eyes, nodding in reassurance. “Yeah bub, just go slow please”

“Of course,” he pushes his hips forward, making sure to be gentle whilst he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“Let me know when I’m okay to move” his thumb brushes in tender motions over your hip, attempting to sooth any discomfort you may be feeling.

You stay like that for a few moments, his head hidden away in your neck, brushing gentle kisses against your skin whilst he gives you all the time you need to adjust to him.

You slide your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly to get him to look at you.

“You can move, Mase” you whisper when his eyes meet yours.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, forehead resting against yours and you moan out in unison when he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in.

He keeps his pace slow, swearing under his breath and digging his teeth into his bottom lip at the feeling of your plush walls surrounding him.

“Missed this so much Angel” his raspy voice is barely audible when he speaks against your lips.

All you can do is nod, unable to find your voice when he picks up his pace but wanting him to know you missed it too.

His warm palms slide up the back of your thighs, finding the curve of your bum before hooking your legs around his waist.

The new angle allows him to to reach much deeper and you feel a bolt of pleasure shoot up your spine when he brushes that special spot inside of you.

“Fuck, Mase. So good” you whimper out, hand finding his shoulder and your holding on so hard that your sure you’ll find little crescent shaped marks there later.

His face finds home in your neck, thrusts faltering slightly when he feels your silky walls clench around him.

“Oh my god, Angel. Going to make me cum already” he stutters, slightly embarrassed at how quickly he’s approaching his second orgasm of the night.

Little does he know, you’re just as close. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“I’m there with you, bub” you move your hips up in time with his, cupping his cheek to move his face from your neck.

You meet his eyes and the sight of him on top of you is almost too much. His hair tousled from your fingers, cheeks flushed and lips swollen as he continues thrusting into you at a brisk pace.

His hand grips at your hip a little tighter and the other grabs your free hand, fingers tangling with yours as he brings them up to rest next to your head.

“Fucking hell, y/n. So tight” he grunts and you let out a string of curse words when you feel your orgasm barrelling towards you.

“Gonna cum, Mase” you sob, eyes squeezing closed as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you.

“I’ve got you, bubba, let go for me” he rasps close to your ear.

And that’s exactly what you do. Moaning out as he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him as your orgasm hits you like a wave.

Your high is overwhelming, the sound of his voice and moans the only thing you can focus on as your body is overcome with pleasure, the feeling rippling through you leaving you breathless.

Your walls constricting around him is what sends him over the edge, his whimpers are muffled in your neck, his body collapsing on top of yours as he hits his own orgasm.

He keeps himself buried inside of you as you both come down from your highs. Your fingers scratching over his neck and back as he slumps on top of you, completely spent.

Neither of you make the effort to move for a while, and he stays buried inside of you whilst you bask in the serenity of the moment. Your heart rates and breathing slowly returning to normal.

He groans when he eventually pulls out of you, head dropping to your shoulder and you brush a series of kisses over his temple.

“You feel up for showering bubba?” He asks softly, fingers brushing your hair out of your face as he looks down at you lovingly.

You send him a soft smile, nodding lazily and you let him scoop you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you through to the en-suit bathroom.

He switches the bathroom light on, immediately dimming it when you wince from the brightness before he sets you down on the counter.

A kiss is brushed against your temple and then he’s turning around, turning the shower on and making sure it’s the right temperature.

You catch his eyes widening slightly when he turns back to you. “What? Is something wrong?” you ask, slightly alarmed by his expression but his face softens as soon as he hears your voice.

“No Angel, nothing wrong. Let’s just say, it’s a good job we’ve got no plans tomorrow” he chuckles, thumb brushing over your neck and all of your confusion goes away when you turn and look into the mirror.

There’s a dark bruise standing out against your skin, a few lighter ones littered across your chest.

“You really went for it, huh?”

“Sorry” he shrugs, not really looking sorry at all.

“No you’re not”

“Nope, not one bit”

You turn back to him, slapping his chest with the back of your hand playfully before he’s helping you down from the counter and guiding you into the shower.

Your body slumps into his when he comes up in front of you. His arms wrap around your waist in a hug and his head finds home in your neck as the water cascades over you.

“love you” his voice is muffled against your skin but you hear him loud and clear, your heart fluttering at the simple phrase.

“Love you too, Masey”

You bring your hand up to the back of his head, fingers running through his damp hair and scratching over his scalp and you feel his chest vibrating against yours when he hums in content.

He steps back and takes your body wash from the little shelf, the familiar citrusy scent engulfing you as he squirts some into his palm, lathering it up before massaging it into your skin.

He pays extra attention to your hips and thighs, helping to sooth the aching skin with his thumbs before shuffling so that you’re both under the water again.

He helps you rinse off, letting you clean him up as well before stepping out of the shower in front of you.

He wraps his own towel around his waist and then takes yours from the heated towel rack, holding it out for you to step into.

When you step out of the shower, his arms are immediately circling you again, wrapping you up in the warm towel as pulls you against his chest.

“Someone’s clingy” you utter, looking up at him through your lashes and if he blushes, you can’t tell. The heat from the shower already leaving his cheeks a little flushed.

“Can’t help it, just want to hold my girl” his confession makes your heart warm and you smile up at him softly.

“How about you go and get into bed, I won’t be long and then you can hold me all night” you suggest, the idea sounding more than appealing.

“I’ll get some pj’s ready for you” he says, pressing his lips to your temple before leaving the bathroom so you can finish getting ready for bed.

Your quick in finishing up your skin care routine, not bothering with any extra serums tonight, the thought of him waiting in bed for you being way more appealing than the idea of standing in this bathroom for even a minute longer.

You switch the bathroom light off and enter the much softer atmosphere of the bedroom. Mase is already tucked up in bed waiting for you, looking all cozy and snug under the duvet.

Some fresh panties and one of his shirts sit a neat pile at the end of the bed and you quickly pull them on, throwing your towel into the laundry basket before climbing into bed next to him.

“Feeling okay, bubba?”

“I need to watch you play golf more often” you giggle, settling into bed next to him.

“Oh, definitely” he sighs, hooking an arm over your waist and sliding you closer to him.

“Seriously though, thank you for coming with me today, I know we’ve technically still seen each other everyday but I really have missed you the last couple of weeks” he speaks shyly, and you can just about make out the blush littering his cheeks in the warm light.

“I missed you too,” you lean up and meet his eyes, “so much”

His hand goes to the back of your neck when you lean in to kiss him. It’s slow, calm and loving as he works his lips against yours carefully.

You rest your head again his bare chest when you pull away, snuggling into him and relaxing completely against his body as he reaches over and switches the lamp off.

The room is engulfed in darkness as he shuffles around a little, getting comfy before settling his arms around you.

“Good night, my love” is the last thing he says to you, and you just about manage a quiet ‘good night’ back before you’re drifting off to sleep, Mase not far behind as you both fall into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

———————

Hope you enjoyed 😚 feedback appreciated as always 🩷🫶🏻

[broadwaybalogna]

Zutara prompt: While fishing, Zuko accidentally admits to Sokka that he like Katara.

STOP IT THIS IS SO CUTE OMG

-

Sokka didn’t exactly know how to bond with Zuko when they weren’t committing crimes or saving the world, so they went on an abundance of “bro trips” to find new hobbies for the two of them. There was golfing, swimming, and cooking, but they ultimately landed on fishing. The activity was a nice change of pace for their busy days, and it allowed them to catch up with each other without having to worry about anything else.

The sun was just beginning to set when Zuko and Sokka finally got their stuff outside and ready to set up. It had been a long day for both of them, but they tried to maintain their weekly bro hangouts as much as possible.

“So, how was your week?” Sokka asked once they had fully set up.

“Ugh, the usual. Making laws, opening borders, selling my soul. How about you? How’s Suki?”

“Suki’s doing great. I soar her every now and again-“

“And lose.”

“And allow her to take advantage of weak spots I didn’t know I had.” Sokka huffed. Zuko laughed. “And you? Any new girls in your life?” Sokka asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Ah, no. Just the usual, haha.” He sputtered.

Sokka liked to think he and Zuko shared everything with one another, so when he sensed that Zuko was hiding something, he immediately pounced.

“Reaaaally….” He imposed, making the word long as he got up in Zuko’s face. “C’mon, you can trust me bro. Bro to bro, what’s my bro been up to?”

“That’s too many bros.”

“My bad bro.”

“And I’m not seeing anyone.”

“You so are.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re beat red! You very clearly are!”

“It’s not because of- Agni help me.” Zuko sighed, exasperated.

“Just tell me who she is!”

“I’m not seeing any girls. I wouldn’t be allowed to see her anyway.”

“So you DO have your eyes on someone! And why wouldn’t you be able to see her?”

“Why do you ask so many questions.”

“I’m a top tier wingman, I don’t know what else to say.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Look, her family is- er.. strict?”

“Is that a statement or a question?”

Zuko gave Sokka a look that very clearly said that he wasn’t playing any games. Sokka raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Damn, you have some serious feeling for this girl, huh?”

“I suppose.” Zuko looked down at his lap, then out into the distance. There was this look in his eyes that Sokka saw and he knew Zuko saw her in the sunset before them.

“I’m sure that if her family see how much you care, they’ll come around.”

“I’m also afraid it’ll strain a relationship I have with one of my best friends.” Zuko finally said after a few moments.

Sokka thought for a moment. “Well, I’ll always be here to pick up the slack from whatever friend you’re talking about! Bros gotta stick out for each other all the time!”

Then Zuko looked over at him. And there was this look in his eyes that confused Sokka for a moment before the realization finally settled in.

“Do you?- my- Kat—? HER!?”

Zuko looked over to his fishing rod, nothing had been caught yet.

“How long, Zuko?”

“How long what?”

“Have you liked her!?”

Zuko flinched at the sudden loudness of Sokka. He couldn’t tell if his friend was angry, upset, confused, surprised, or a horrifying mix of it all.

“I don’t know. Maybe a couple years?”

“Years!?”

Zuko sighed, “Yeah.”

“Fucking FINALLY.”

“What?”

“I said ‘finally’, dipshit.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Why?”

“Because I’ve been so sick and tired of hearing her ramble on about you and how hot you are and blah blah blah!”

Zuko was in pure awe, “Seriously?”

“‘SeRiOuSlY’ my ass! You’re saying I could’ve avoided this for YEARS!?”

“Sokka, are you being serious?” Zuko had gotten closer to Sokka and grabbed him by his shirt.

“Of course I am! I wouldn’t be this annoying if I wasn’t.” Zuko softly let go of the taller man and sat down in his chair beside his fishing rod.

“Holy shit.”

“You better tell her as soon as possible because I don’t know how much longer I can listen to her ramble on and on-“

“I thought you would hate me.”

“What?” Sokka was finally taken out of his annoying persona and thrown back into reality. “Why would I hate you?”

“C’mon Sokka, I like your sister. Most people would be at my throat if I said I liked their family member.”

“Yeah, sure, but— you’re my best friend. If anyone should date my sis, it should be you. There have been plenty of guys who have had a crush on Katara and believe me, not many of them have been all that good. So to know she has someone who I know is amazing for her. That makes everything a lot easier. Of course I’m glad you like her. I’m just upset you would think anything would make me hate you!”

Zuko laughed and Sokka continues to babble on. Zuko finally caught a fish and Sokka begged him to cook it for the two of them.

“Promise me you won’t hate me if I tell your sister my feelings and we start going out.” Zuko finally said after they finished eating.

Sokka thought for a short moment before responding. “Promise. Pinky swear.” He held out his pinky finger and wiggled it, urging Zuko to lock in own pinky with his. Zuko grumbled but ultimately folded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, bud.”

[readyforthegarden]

Fitting Room

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Adonis and Angel are back for a little adventure! When Angel acts bratty in public, Danny is going to put her in her place, regardless of how far they are from the privacy of their own home.

Warnings: smut, sex in public place, soft dom!danny, restraints, oral (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving) teasing, choking, full penetration)

WC: 4424

In your entire life, you never thought that you’d be bored while shopping. You loved diving through racks of clothes, boxes of shoes, furniture and decorations, it was like an Olympic sport to you. Trying to find the best deals on what you wanted or needed usually sends a wave of endorphins through you. 

But today you were on your last leg, following Danny through the department store searching for new golf shirts. He came home from tour for a nice, long break and suddenly his old shirts were too tight in the arms, and had to go. Not that you were complaining, he put the muscles to good use as soon as the two of you were alone, a new level of stamina coming from this tour as well. 

“What do you think about this one?” Danny held up a turquoise colored polo, the sweat resistant material shining in the fluorescent lights above. You could tell your temperament was beginning to get at him too, no longer cheerful in his showing of shirts. You had already snapped a few times, causing him to give you a few looks. 

“It’s very nice, honey.” you muttered, folding your arms over your chest. Your eyes were beginning to feel dry from the air conditioning being pumped into the store, and you squinted, pinching the bridge of your nose, hoping the impending headache you felt would go away. “Just like the last fifteen you’ve shown me.” 

“What’s with the attitude?” Danny furrowed his brows at you. “You’ve been so snippy today.”

“This is the most boring shopping trip ever.” you groaned, stomping your foot a little. Truth be told, it was more than that. You were tired from a late night out, a little hungover if you had to admit, and you were hungry after only eating half of the strawberry poptart Danny had offered you that morning. 

“Oh because it isn’t for you?” Danny challenged, raising an eyebrow with a roll of his eyes. 

“No, because every golf shirt is the same!” You reached up, shuffling through a rack. “White polo, blue polo, yellow polo, stripes oh now we’re getting cuh-razy!” you moved toward the wall of more polos and gestured to them. “Just pick a few and let’s go!” 

It happened quickly. Danny barely glanced around, and suddenly you were against the polo wall, snug between two racks. Danny’s large, free hand was on your throat, squeezing the sides. Your eyes were wide as you looked up at him, and all you received back was something only Danny could master, a tender glare. 

“Where is she, hm?” Danny asked softly, giving a soft squeeze to your throat. “Where is my Angel?” He didn’t let you respond. “Instead she’s been replaced with such a brat. I shouldn’t have to tell you more than once to behave. I have half a mind to take you into the fitting room and bend you over my knee for your attitude.” 

He saw the sparkle in your eye at his words, your head tilting down to look up at him through your lashes. His hand left your throat, grazing your neck until his fingers were moving up into the hair at the base of your skull. He clenched his fist there, tugging your head back so you had to look down your nose at him. A whine emitted from your throat, and he smirked. 

“What? My pretty little Angel didn’t think her god wouldn’t know all her tricks?” Danny laughed under his breath and his voice was lower. A thrill sped up and down your spine, igniting your veins. Adonis was here. “I think you’d like that a little too much.” He glanced down at your chest, watching it rise and fall quickly. “Nah, that’d be too easy. I can’t very well give into you when you’re acting like this.” He let go of your hair, and your head fell forward. His hand now came under your chin, lifting it with his finger, his thumb resting in the middle of your chin. “Be my sweet Angel again and maybe you’ll get rewarded. Can you do that for me?” 

“Yes,” you murmured. Danny bent down, capturing your lips in a sweet but demanding kiss before letting go of you entirely. 

“I think I’m gonna get the turquoise one.” he nodded, back to the sweet and happy go lucky man he normally was. You were still between the racks on the wall, reeling over Danny acting like that in public. In your time together Danny had helped you explore more sexually than you’d ever considered. You’d found new things that turned you on, learned that you had a taste for roleplay here and there, and you especially liked when Danny introduced a soft dominant side of him. But never had he been this way in public before, and the idea of being so exposed, the risk of being caught had you pressing your thighs together. 

You followed Danny around the men’s section, smiling and nodding and giving polite opinions on shirts you knew he didn’t want or like, he simply was testing you. This went on for a few moments until he became distracted, looking for some socks to match his shirt. 

“Stay here,” he instructed, handing you the armful of clothes. “I saw a few pairs around the corner.” he mumbled as he was already stepping away. Adjusting the heavy, sweat wicking clothing on your arm, you glanced around, finding you were close to the women’s section of the store. Craning your neck, you tried to see if anything caught your eye. You raised yourself to your tiptoes, and nearly jumped out of your skin when Danny cleared his throat. 

“Looking for something?”

“I was just trying to see what they had,” you answer, coming back flat on your feet. Danny gazed at you, then to the clothing section behind you, smiling. 

“Well, you’ve been a good girl again so far,” he started, taking the clothes from your arms. “Go ahead and browse a little.”  There was a moment's hesitation, and Danny laughed “Go on!”

Stepping around a few racks, you began looking through what the store had to offer you. Sundresses were on sale, and you thumbed through a row of them, a pretty mauvey pink one catching your eye as you moved deeper into the section. Danny watched you like a hawk, eyeing everything you touched. You tried to think, should you pick one out? Or should you pick one you don’t really like in case he teases you and says you can’t have it? This side of Danny was newer to you. In the bedroom games like this were easy, don’t touch yourself until I say, do this do that. In public, you weren’t sure what the rules were. 

“You like that one baby?” Danny’s voice was low and soft in your ear. You’d been so focused on getting one step ahead of him you hadn’t realized you had frozen, a powder blue dress in your hand. Swallowing nervously, you nodded. “I don’t.” He removed your hand from the dress and reached up, grabbing another one. This sundress was golden yellow, and he held it out to you. 

“This one?” You asked. Danny nodded. 

“I’ll even let you try it on, as a treat.” He grinned. “Let’s go find a fitting room-oh wait! I need to go back and get one more thing,” 

You sighed before you could stop yourself, and once you realized, looked up at Danny. His eyes were glaring, but his mouth was pulled into a smirk. You fell right into his trap, failed the test. Shoving the clothes in his arm at you again, he stood back. 

“Go get a room, I’ll be right there.” Nodding, you scurried off, into the fitting rooms and went to the very last stall, shutting the door. You hung up the shirts and dress, placing the packs of socks on the small shelf. You waited for Danny, ignoring how washed out the overhead lighting made you look in the mirror. 

Three sharp raps on the door and you opened it, letting Danny slide inside before shutting and locking it behind him. He gazed at you for a moment, hands behind his back.

“What?” you asked softly, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. Danny smirked, sitting down on the small seat in the room. He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and grinned.

“Try on that pretty little dress for me.” he commanded, nodding to it on the hanger. Reaching down, you unbuttoned your jean shorts, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them. Kicking off your shoes you stood in just your socks and underwear after pulling your top over your head. Danny adjusted in his seat, eyes raking up and down your body. He knew you were stalling, and held up a hand, index finger pointing down and moving in a circle to tell you to turn around and continue. 

Taking the cotton dress in your hands, you removed the thin straps off the hanger, it was soft and light, and you knew it would make the perfect dress to run errands in or out to dinner. Pulling it over your head, you let the material fall down your body, adjusting it once it was fully on. Forgetting the game at play, you turned to the mirror, reaching into the top and adjusting your breasts in the sewn-in cups, then flattening down the torso. 

Twisting and turning in the mirror, you scanned every part of yourself in the dress, targeting every flaw and positive you could find. It wasn’t until Danny’s hands rested on your shoulders that you stopped. Looking at him in the mirror, he met your gaze, smiling softly. 

“There’s my Angel,” he murmured softly. “You look so pretty in this dress, in this color.” his right hand, traveled softly up and down your arm, caressing it and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Are you my sunshine again?”

“Yes, Danny,” Danny’s smile fell.

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Adonis,” you whispered. Danny turned his head, his nose burying into your hair and he inhaled deeply. His slow exhale was warm against your skin and in your hair, causing a shiver to go down your spine. 

“That’s right,” he murmured into your hair. His left hand left your body, reaching behind him. He stood back from you, slightly to the side so you could see as he slid a brown leather belt from his back pocket. Hearing the material softly move through his hands as he made a loop made your pulse race. Softly snapping it a few times, he watched your face, noting the excited gleam in your eyes. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, Adonis,” your voice was a whisper. Anxiety and excitement swirled together in your stomach, watching him step closer. You were preparing to be bent over and spanked, but instead he approached, coming around you and standing in front of your reflection. 

“Hands in front or behind?” you took a few moments to decide, Danny being patient as you made up your mind. You held your wrists out to him, and he smiled, beginning to loop the belt around your wrists, tightening it and glancing up at you, mask dropping to check that you were okay. You nodded and gave him a soft smile, and instantly Adonis was back. “Get on your knees.” 

Lowering yourself to your knees, you kept eye contact with Danny, gazing up at him through your lashes, his hand not in your hair to stop you this time. He bit his bottom lip, reaching down and undoing the button and fly of his pants, pushing them down to his mid-thigh, along with his boxer briefs. His cock was already hardening, and he stroked the length a few times, bringing it closer to your mouth. The tip grazed your bottom lip, soft and velvety smooth. 

“Open,” Danny murmured, and you obliged, laying your tongue flat as Danny tapped his cock against it. You closed your mouth around him, swirling your tongue and tasting him. Humming, you began bobbing your head, working down his length. You already wished for your hands to take care of what you couldn’t take. Soft sighs of pleasure fell from Danny’s open mouth as he stared down at you, hypervigilant of every twitch of your lips, flutter of your eyelashes, and flare of your nostrils as you inched further down his length. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue was something you enjoyed, a low hum of satisfaction vibrating up from your chest, to your tongue, making Danny suck in a quick, sharp breath. Smiling around him, you looked back up through your lashes at him, taking the tip of your tongue and pressing it along the thick vein on the underside of his cock as you pulled back to the tip. One of Danny’s hands held his shirt flat against his toned stomach, the other reached forward, easily cupping the back of your head and gently pushing you back down his length. You let him guide your movements, doing your best to keep breathing as the tip of your nose began grazing the coarse, trimmed hair at the base of him.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you swallowed around him, fighting the reflex in your throat as Danny’s tip grazed the back of it. He began pumping his hips, and you could feel the hot prickling of tears welling up in your eyes as you gagged slightly, taking short, quick breaths through your nose as you let Danny use your mouth. 

“So fucking good,” the words were ragged as he praised you, fucking into your mouth. You hummed, your fingers twitching, itching to grip his thighs, to have some hold on him like he did you. They were also desperate to relieve the ache between your own thighs. Spreading your legs as imperceptibly as possible, you brought your wrists between them, trying to rub them against your core. Danny heard the buckle of the belt around your wrists clink, and let out a breathy laugh. “Aww Angel, you wanna touch yourself?”

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, blinkin up at Danny. A few tears slipped from your eyes and you knew your mascara was at the very least flaking, if not running down your cheeks. Your hips were still rocking against the bundled leather on your wrists, though it wasn’t doing much. 

“I don’t think you deserve to, after all the attitude you gave me today.” Danny’s words were harsh, matching the thrust he did of his hips. Sniffling, you batted your lashes at him. “Fuck, you look so good with your makeup like that,” he took the hand off the back of your head and swiped his thumb across your cheek, collecting the black stained tear. Without another word, he pulled himself out of your mouth, standing back before leaning down and grasping your arms, lifting you up to your feet. One of his large hands wrapped around the middle of the leather belt, and you got excited, thinking he was going to give in and untie you, but he pulled you toward him as he backed up, taking a seat on the small bench. 

Your stomach flipped watching him stroke himself with his free hand, the clothes next to his head reminding you that you were in a public area. Danny continued to pull you forward, reaching up under your skirt and pulling down your panties, watching you step out of them carefully, He tugged you closer until you were kneeling, a leg on either side of his muscular thighs. He let go of his cock, bringing a hand to your hip, the other raising up the hem of the sundress.

“What do you say,” Danny leaned in close to your face, the tip of his nose gently grazing your cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to it. “We ruin this fucking dress? Hm?”

“It’s not mine,” you replied shakily, watching Danny pull back and grin wickedly. 

“It was yours the moment I saw it.” he replied. You bit your bottom lip, feeling Danny’s long fingers graze your inner thigh. Your hips jolted as his index and middle fingers slipped between your legs, feeling the wetness that had gathered there. “You’re so wet for me, Angel.” he slipped the tips of his fingers in, making you moan softly. He pumped them in and out, eyes trained on your face as you found some relief at last. Your hands were in between both of you, resting on his stomach, and your fingernails scratched at his skin, the hairs on the trail to his hips, as he reached deeper and deeper.

“So good,” you whispered, Danny twisting his wrist slightly so his thumb grazed your clit with every pump. Your eyes closed as your head fell back, relishing in the pleasure.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” Danny praised, “Can you take my cock like this?”

“Yes, Adonis,” your voice came out in a whine, raising your hips, ready for him to take his hand away. When he stilled his hand, you brought your head back up and opened your eyes.

“How bad do you want it?” Danny asked. You felt annoyance bubble back up in you, the ache between your legs growing stronger. 

“Badly,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. Danny’s hand left your hip, grabbing your chin roughly. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he hissed. Heat burned your face, and you tried to pull out of his grasp, but his fingers dug in a little harder, keeping you in place. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Adonis.”

“You think because you don’t get what you want exactly when you want it, that you can act this way?” he scolded you, making the heat in your cheeks turn them bright pink with shame and embarrassment. 

“‘M sorry,” you muttered out. Danny loosened his grip slightly.

“What was that?”

“I’m sorry, Adonis.” Danny let go of your chin, using both hands to grab your hips, pulling you forward. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds, slickening it before pressing inside of you. You moved to sink down, but Danny’s grip on your hips was strong, keeping you up so just the tip was inside. An aggravated groan rumbled through your chest as you glared at Danny. “Please, what the fuck!”

“I don’t think you deserve any more than this,” Danny hissed. “You were being so good and now you’re failing every test.”

“Please, please,” you whined, leaning down, grasping whatever skin of his you could with the limited movement of your fingers. You were nose to nose, clenching around him, feeling like you were going to cry if he didn’t let you take him fully. The ache was becoming unbearable, and as you looked into his eyes, the Adonis persona faltered, your loving Danny flashing in his eyes. “I need you so bad, baby, it’s starting to hurt,” Without another word, he pulled you down, allowing you to sink down to his hilt. You let out a strangled moan of relief, and Adonis was back.

“I love it when you plead like that, Angel,” he groaned softly, thrusting his hips up into you. “Sounds like a prayer just for me,” you nodded, unable to verbalize much of anything as he pounded up into you. “What am I?” your eyebrows knit together in the middle of your forehead, glancing down at him. “What am I to my Angel?”

“A god?” Danny grinned. 

“That’s right, say it again,” he somehow slid himself down on the bench, the new angle sending tingles down your spine. 

“A god!” you moaned loudly. “A god my god, god!” Danny laughed darkly, bringing a hand up quickly and covering your mouth. 

“I don’t want the whole store to hear it too,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss in the valley between your breasts. “Can you keep quiet for me? Think you can cum quietly?” nodding, you gave him an affirmative noise, muffled by his hand. You pressed a kiss to his palm before he pulled it away, and he grabbed your hands, lifting them up and over his head so your body was closer to his. Your head slumped into the space between his neck and shoulder, his thrusts jostling your body. Quiet, high-pitched whines and moans fought their way out from your lips, suddenly, he halted all movement. You raised your head up, ready to argue with him, be a brat again, but he put a finger to his lips, glancing at the door. You heard shuffling outside the door, and your eyes widened, hearing soft voices talking about a sale happening, the sound of cheap metal hangers scraping against the racks they were on.

Danny looked to the door, then back to you, a small, mischievous smirk tugging his lips. He slowly began moving his hips as the voices got closer, and you pressed your lips together tightly, fighting the whimper that wanted to escape. Your stomach was flipping, the excitement and embarrassment of almost being caught and the thrill of doing something so naughty in public turning you on further. He started moving a little faster, and you squeezed your eyes shut, praying he kept this pace so no one would hear the sound of skin slapping and come looking. One of his arms snaked behind you, up your spine and grasping the base of your neck and shoulders, using the grip to pull you down roughly.

“I think they’re gone,” Danny breathed out after a few moments of silence. “We need to be quick in case they come back.” nodding, you followed his lead as he ducked from under your arms and moved you off of him, standing the two of you up. He made quick work of undoing the belt restraint, though he didn’t give you time to rub your sore wrist before you turned you around and pressed a hand on your back, bending you over. 

Grasping the side of the bench, you felt him flip your skirt over your hips, gripping your skin there. You could hear Danny spit, the sound of the lubrication running up and down his cock before he pressed into you again, making your jaw drop. Danny was merciless in his pace, and you winced, though it wasn’t at the grip on your hips of the pressure of his hips bones hitting your ass over and over, but from the sound. You hoped and prayed that no one was around outside the fitting area, that there were no curious shoppers out there. 

“You feel so fucking good around my cock, Angel,” Danny groaned through grit teeth. “You were made for me, so perfect,” he shifted his hips slightly and was suddenly hitting a spot that made your jaw drop, your mind go blank, sharp, breathy curses the only thing able to be vocalized. You clenched around him, feeling the molten hot coil in your core tighten almost unbearably, your body tensing.

“Oh god, please,” you whined, nails digging into the bench. 

“Yeah? Please what, baby?”

“Please, I wanna cum,” you whispered. “Please, Adonis?”

“I don’t think you should,” he shook his head, his sweaty curls bouncing. “You’ve been such a fucking brat today.”

“Please Danny, please Adonis, please god!” you cried softly. If you could have screamed at the top of your lungs, you would have. Danny’s fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your hips, sure to leave bruises, his trimmed nails leaving crescent moons into them. 

“Like I said, I love to hear you beg,” Danny’s hips pounded into you, and you pushed back as much as you could to meet every thrust, whispering his name like it was the only word you knew in the English language. He didn’t punish you for saying Danny this time, letting you have this one win as he felt you cum, your thighs shaking, knees buckling.

“Fuck, Angel, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?”

“Anywhere, fuck I don’t care,” you were riding out your orgasm, needing his release now just as much as you needed yours. 

“Such a filthy brat,” Danny grunted, hips stuttering as he came, releasing inside of you. He stayed still, bent over you as you both caught your breath. You gasped when he pulled out, feeling empty immediately, but he stuck his fingers inside you, fucking his cum further into you. When he pulled them out, he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, sticking his fingers into your panting mouth. “Clean ‘em, don’t leave a single drop behind.” he murmured, watching you do as he said. “That’s my girl, do we taste good together?”

“Mhm,” you moaned around his fingers. He withdrew them slowly before grabbing your face, pulling you to him and kissing you passionately, tasting the traces left. When he pulled away, he smiled at you, and Adonis disappeared. 

“That was hot as fuck, baby,” he chuckled, his eyes glimmering, before they dropped down. “Oh, oops,” you followed his eyeline, seeing a few wet spots on the neckline of the sundress. Using your finger, you dabbed at them, giggling as you wiped them on Danny’s boxers as he stepped back and pulled his bottoms up. “I think you’re gonna have to wear that out of the store.”

“Oh for sure,” you agreed, bending down and picking your panties up, slipping them back on. “Do you need to try on these clothes?” you nodded towards the shirts he had you carry in. Danny grinned cheekily.

“Nah, I know they’ll fit,” he admitted, walking over and grabbing them off the hook. “I just wanted to drive you insane.” you straightened from gathering the rest of your clothes, mouth agape. Reaching out, you smacked his shoulder sharply. Danny caught your wrist after the hit landed, bringing to his lips and kissing where your skin was still pink from chafing in the leather belt. “Be careful, I might have to teach you another lesson if you do that again.”

“Is that a promise?” Danny’s eyes flashed as he let go of your wrist, reaching down and snapping the price tag from your dress.

“Go get the pink one you were eyeing, then meet me at the registers. I’m taking you home.” he answered. You turned, a sharp swat landing on your bottom, making you jump. “I’ll show you what a real smack is supposed to feel like.”

“I can’t wait.”

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[daydreamingleclerc]

kinktober #2 - carlos sainz jr

it’s not your fault if seeing carlos in golf shorts gets you hot.

prompts: thigh riding & praise, “good girl, that’s a good fucking girl” & “come, sit”

warnings: partial nudity, thigh riding, swearing

“what’s the matter with you?” carlos asked, one hand snaking around your waist while the other gripped at the other side of the golf club in your hand, “you’re usually so good at golf, angel.”

he shifted behind you, and the material of his shorts rubbed against the back of your thighs, “you’re making it hard for me to work, carlos,” you said, teeth partially gritted as his hand splayed across your stomach underneath your jumper, “you know how i feel about those shorts.”

“i could’ve said the same about that skirt, hermosa.”

“there’s nobody around,” you mumbled as you spun around in his grasp. carlos’ big brown eyes admired you, his lips curling up into a soft smile, “five minutes, mi rey, just want to feel you.”

carlos’ arms wrapped around your waist, and pulled you in close, and you tried to sneak a kiss from his lips but he pulled away with a laugh. “there’s nowhere for us to go, Y/N,” he stated, looking out at the vast greenery of the golf course. “the clubhouse is fifteen minutes away.”

you snuck in a kiss anyway, “but the golf buggy is just behind you,” you muttered against his lips, “it’s seven thirty in the morning, carlos, nobody is around.”

“you’re so naughty, how can i ever say no?” he stated curiously, and you watched as he walked away to the golf buggy and sat in the drivers seat, a giddy excitement bubbling up inside of you, “come, Y/N, sit.”

you’d never moved so fast, draping yourself over one of his thighs as he spread his legs to accommodate you on top of him. your nipples poked through your white shirt and he flicked them, “cold, reina?”

“carlos, no teasing.” you mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief as your hips began rocking against his leg instinctively.

your head buried itself in the crook of his neck and he hummed, “so wet, aren’t you? hm? all for me?” all you could do in that moment was nod, the slick friction of his skin underneath your clit was intense, and you were so wet that you left a patch on the hem of his shorts where you’d been rocking against them. “mhm, so eager.”

you lulled your head up to face him, and he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand on your bum as you braced yours against his shoulders for leverage. carlos admired the way your eyes rolled back into your head with every rock of your hips, and when he shifted and gave you a clean patch of his shorts, you whimpered.

“i won’t be able to last much longer, papi.”

carlos groaned at the nickname, and left a stinging slap to your bum as you rocked back and forth profusely now, your hips falling out of sync as you got closer.

“fuck Y/N,” he groaned once more, “cum for me.”

you could feel his dick underneath your leg, rock hard and straining his shorts, and all it took was another slap to your bum for you to throw yourself forward.

“good girl, that’s a good fucking girl.” he breathed as you moaned out his name, your hips stilling as your orgasm washed over you.

you rested your head on his shoulder as you caught your breath, too flustered to move as you recalled what just happened in the middle of the golf course. carlos began to chuckle, and you looked up at him.

“you’ve never looked as wonderful as you do in this moment, hermosa,” he kissed your nose and tucked your hair behind your ear, “te quiero.”

“i love you too, carlos.”

[celebtf]

Golf with Niall

It was a sunny day outside and I was talking a walk in the city. The sun beat down with intense heat and I felt the need to drink water, but there was no shop or waterstand nearby.

I walked a little longer in the intense heat, I finally saw a white tent, so I walked towards the tent and it was part of this budle of tents .

As I was walking around at the location I saw it, this was a Compition in Golf, I know nothing about golf but I needed water that was for sure.

As I was walking towards the waterstand, I saw him, That was Niall horan walking past me " What do I do, do I follow or not " I took to seconds to think and later started following Niall to his trailer, he's ofc a Vip guest so he gets something a little more fancy.

I followed Niall a bit till he got to his Trailer, and I was not far behind him, he didn't close the door all the way so I saw my chance so I took it and opened the door without really thinking what I was doing.

The Shower was running, I could here that, Niall was singing in the shower so he probably didn't here me opening the door. Niall had left his clothes out here on the couch, I couldn't help it, I went for it and took a look, I found his underwear, socks, tight pants, a shirt and watch, perfect that's all I need. I started sniffing Nialls underwear and took of my pants, I needed to be fast.

My clothes were off and I stood there nude and put Niall's sweaty underwear on, they felt amazing against my naked ass, I took his shirt and put it on next with his Pants too.

I could see it happening, my arms grew bigger and more hairy, I felt this pain in my back and legs, I was growing. My hair got shorter and a more blond tone, when I looked in the mirror I could see my face change, I was Niall.

The shower was turned off, and out came Niall with a towel around his waist, I took a golf club from the bag and hit him. I started dressing Niall in my own clothes, started with my underwear and socks, I could see his dick shrink and hair grew black and messy, Niall himself shrinked and his face changed.

" Ouch what happend? " the accent was american and in a deep voice. " Hii Niall " I said with my new brittish accent " I would love to chat but I got a golf game to get ready for". I tied niall up with handcuffs and a ballgag and satt down at the table with a mirror.

I snapped a few pics getting ready " This body is so hot, I am so hot "

I took out the golf clothes from my new bag and put them on " Niall this pants are so tight, you can really see everything and this leather glove on your... I mean my hand are looking so hot laughed and left Niall in the trailer and went out and played the game.

" Hii Niall I'm back " he was in the same place as I left him. " This pants and your.. I mean my new body just made me so horny out on the field" I took out the ballgag from his mouth " Let's see how you like sucking yourself " I laughed..

[moderndaycassandra]

We're both on the sidewalk, walking opposite directions, about to pass each other.

I look at your hair, gently flowing behind as you walk. I try to turn my gaze away, desperate to not seem like I'm staring, but it's too late. You've already noticed, and as you look me over you spot the lesbian flag pin on my purse. You smile to yourself and slow your pace so our pass takes longer. "I like your pin." you say with a hint of playfulness, pointing to my purse. I follow your finger to the flag and blush "Oh, uh, th-thanks. I like your hair." I stutter, face glowing red. You offer a cheeky smile as we walk by, and I turn my gaze to the sidewalk to hide my rosy cheeks.

The next day, we're at the same place again walking opposite directions. We offer another round of simple greetings and compliments. "Good morning!" "It's a cold one today." "Nice shirt, love that band." "New shoes?" This proceeds every day until the seventh. This time, you come to a full stop. "So, where are you headed?" you ask, taking a couple of steps backwards to stay next to me as I slow my pace and look up, meeting your eyes. They shine with sincerity. "Oh, uh, just getting coffee. There's a little cafe just up the road." Taking the unspoken invitation, you turn on your heel and begin to walk with me. "Yeah? Let me guess, Rose's Garden?" "Uh-huh. The one with the cat." "Mind if I tag along?" My brain bursts into flame as my face erupts a beautiful shade of red. I pull my scarf up nonchalantly to try and cover up. "S-sure." We walk in silence for a couple of steps before you grow bored of it. "So. You go to school here?" "N-no. My friend does and they needed a roommate, so I moved in with them. What about you?" "Yeah. Not quite sure what I want though. Just taking gen-ed for a year or two while I figure it out. I think I want to do something with biology maybe." "Heheh, I'm sure you'll....figure it out." My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised you haven't commented on the noise.

We arrive at the coffee shop and order our drinks. We take a table by the window and talk for twenty minutes or so between sips. We talk about our interests, make jokes, and slowly realize we have a lot in common. This becomes our new daily routine. We walk to the cafe, get coffee, and chat for a while, every day. At some point, we trade phone numbers and begin texting during our free time. Every time I see that little (1) pop up on my phone, the flame of passion ignites; I've just gotten a bit more used to it. After a couple of weeks, we start hanging out. You come to my apartment and I introduce you to my roommate, the next week I come to your house and meet your cat. At some point, we start going out. We never say the word date, but you don't go to roller rinks, mini-golf, cinema, attend weddings, and go to fancy dinners if you're just friends. At least, not this frequently, right?

A year or so later, we're lying on our backs on a grassy hill. The ground is chilled from the autumn air, but that doesn't dissuade us. Our laughter dies down from the last joke you told as we stare at the clouds. I point one out that looks like a giraffe, your favorite animal. I turn my head to see if you're looking. And you are, but not at the cloud, you're looking at me. That same sparkle in your eyes and joy in your smile. "I love you." you say quietly. We've both said it before, plenty of times. But always as friends, purely platonic. This time, it's different. Something about those three words feels different. You mean it. "I-" my throat goes dry, the flame in my brain erupts into an inferno and my arm goes limp, dropping into the grass. The edges of my vision fade away as I stare into your eyes. My face grows redder than it ever has before, only this time I don't try to hide it. "I love you too." You reach an arm behind my head and I reach behind your back as we pull each other close. Time loses all meaning as our lips meet and we kiss for the first time. The singular moment feels like it lasted an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. You pull away, leaving our lipsticks smeared and mixed.

The next year goes by fairly slowly, not too different from the first. Only now, we're not just friends, we're partners. You're my girlfriend, and I'm yours. The passion and excitement still hasn't died down. Years go by, you graduate college and get a job. I go back to school and get my degree. We have two kids and we watch as they grow up and go through school and find themselves partners, just as we found each other. Decades later, one of us dies, leaving the other alone. Which one is which? It doesn't really matter. By this point, our selves are so ingrained into each other that we're incomplete, merely two parts of a whole, but one part is missing. It isn't long before the other passes, and we rejoin in eternity, a loving embrace that lasts forever.

Then, I blink. We're back on the sidewalk that first day and I'm staring at your hair. You notice, then look at my purse. You open your mouth as if to say something, but decide against it.

We pass each other in silence.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Ok for the smutty blurbs, I need a “needy Steve” maybe he’s been apart from the reader for too long but when they first see each other they have to get through a family dinner first so it just drags it out that little bit longer and the boy is desperate… but in the sweetest way. Lots of kisses and nose nudges 🫠🫶🏻

18+

It had been just over two weeks since you’d seen Steve, the last kiss shared on your driveway, chaste and parent appropriate before you drove off with your family, heading for a reluctant vacation in Palm Springs.

You’d spent most of your time by the pool, head hidden in a book, skin warmed by the sun and your thoughts completely occupied by the boy you’d left behind. It would’ve been pathetic if you hadn’t returned to be greeted by your boyfriend who’d clearly missed you just as much.

Steve had been at your front door before you had managed to get your suitcase up the stairs, a grin on his lips that made his face light up, eyes bright and trained on you even when your father opened the door.

He was half forced into an impromptu dinner with your parents, pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen island that everyone picked at as he politely as your mother how she enjoyed California, and did your dad get a chance to play much golf?

It was hard to keep up with the conversation, to follow the topic when all you could do was watch the way Steve’s lips moved when he spoke, how he licked over them after every sip of lemonade, how you knew he’d taste like citrus and mint when you finally got him alone. And he stared at you across the kitchen like he knew, like he was just as desperate to get his hands on you as were, like he knew how much you’d missed him, like he was intent on proving that he’d missed you even more.

But he was too polite, offering to do the dishes for your mom as she fawned over him, chattering about lasagna recipes and could he ask his friend Eddie to look at her car exhaust?

Maybe it was only twenty minutes, maybe it was an hour. But it felt like another two weeks before your parents left to visit the neighbours for some wine, before you were able to drag your boyfriend up your staircase, feet tripping over each other as you barrelled into your bedroom.

The bed bounced as you fell onto it, cool sheets crushed underneath overheated skin, Steve immediately holding himself over you so he didn’t squish you. But you spread your legs for him, urged him into the cradle of your hips so he could rock down into you, rolling and grinding just to show you how hard he was.

Desperate, needy, on edge.

“Babe, baby,” Steve whispered, cheeks all pink and lashes fluttering. He looked dizzy as he gazed down at you, lips catching yours in a kiss that was achingly soft. “Missed you, shit, y’got no idea. Need you so fuckin’ much.”

You wanted to tell him that you did know, that you missed him the same, maybe more. But Steve ducked his face to yours, nose nudging against your own in a gesture that was awfully sweet. You breath hitched, cheeks warming at the touch, chin tilting up in search for another kiss.

“Steve, please.”

It went on like that, clothes shed with an urgency you hadn’t experienced before, shorts on the floor, bra hanging from the bedpost, Steve’s shirt lost to the mess of your half unpacked suitcase. His hands were everywhere, all consuming in the best way, rough and warm and running up and down your ribs before they were spreading your thighs and teasing at your folds.

He hissed and swore at the slick he found, the warm wetness that made his eyes roll back. He played with you until you were whining, glassy eyed and gasping at the way Steve couldn’t stop his cock nudging up against your hip, leaking and too hard, the roll of skin on skin making his breath come in short pants.

It was easy to give him what he wanted, easy to pull him back into your arms and wind your hands into his hair as he slid into you. And just for a moment, the desperation stilled, just for a little while. The wet, hot heat of you making Steve sigh, the stretch of his cock making you keen. He found you again, his nose nuzzling against yours, the smile on his face lazy and soft, the rock of his hips against yours sending electricity up and down your spine.