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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

Note

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them.

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine.

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast.

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments.

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not.

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment.

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him.

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward.

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced.

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches.

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble.

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you.

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?”

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word.

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back.

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more.

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams.

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for.

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan.

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.”

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him.

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head.

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day.

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor.

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear.

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel.

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place.

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you.

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical.

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous.

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips.

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly.

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch.

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel.

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan.

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body.

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over.

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard.

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants.

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim.

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut.

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release.

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth.

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss.

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.”

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.”

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly.

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

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moonchildstyles · 9 months

Text

flâner

élan part four: wandering around Paris was just what y/n needed. and harry, of course.

wordcount: 11.2k+

—————

Foolishly, (Y/N) thought addressing Harry would make her less anxious to exist around him. She was proven wrong the next morning when she saw him emerging from the restroom and for her skin to feel a bit too warm. From his response, that furrowed brow and the fact that he didn't even seem to realize what she was trying to tell him flashed before her. That blank look in his gaze like he thought she was just as crazy as her father taunted her.

After that moment, before he spotted her, she slunk back into her room. The door shutting behind her sealed her away, the air settling around her.

That was a week ago, that first spot of him after that confrontation. Since then, with her door sealed closed, she had burrowed herself into the folds of her duvet and cushy mattress. Her pillows had been thrown askew, ruffled from her shifting in bed and tossing and turning during the hours she was able to sleep. The only times she trudged out of bed was to take a shower, or slink to the kitchen in the middle of the night for snacks. Her phone had been glued to her hand through her time, corresponding with Francesca while she refreshed her socials and news outlets as often as she could manage.

Luckily, the 132 Gala was set around the same time as a major music festival, pushing her mess to the back burner of the media rotation after a week. Unfortunately, the event wasn't close enough to have wiped everything about the Gala from people's memories or mouths.

The red carpet interview she gave had gone viral. Analyses of her body language, the way she looked at Harry, every tiny word she let out followed after. The most popular theory she'd seen was those assuming she was high on something while she was there, that would explain the jitters and the fact she couldn't calm down, apparently. Think pieces were posted, the vast majority citing her as the poster child for the "dark side" of the glamorous social scene. Edits were posted to video platforms, set to dramatic music as if this was supposed to be her third act low point in a film. The most traumatizing photo taken of her—her hair a mess, hand clinging to Harry's, her feet stumbling over one another with tears glittering over her face as she tried to get away—had been turned into a meme. She was nothing more than a caricature and a joke to anyone who had any idea who she was. At least the gossip from the festival was enough to push her out of the main publications, other appearances and performances garnering the public's attention for the time being.

In anonymous blogs, it appeared outsiders had caught on to the fact she was no longer in New York. It started when she wasn't pictured at any of the afterparties, more merit given when she was noticeably missing from group outings with Francesca and the rest of the girls, articles speculating that she was in "treatment" or hiding out from the consequences of her flip out.

Her least favorite thing was the articles popping up centering around Harry. Many dug into his background, looking into his job history, family, and small amount of social media presence he had. There was nothing to be found, nothing that could add any fuel, but that didn't stop the outlets from crafting something sensational enough to grab attention. The amount of headlines she'd seen, suggesting he was a jealous boyfriend after catching her with Barron, using a photo of him cradling her with his brow furrowed and jaw set was astounding.

In the week since she left the country and shut herself away, her father hadn't contacted her a single time. The last thing he said to her was that she was a crazy whore, just like her mother.

Tonight, she was doing much of the same as she had for the last week, eyes straining against her screen. If she were to peer over the top of her phone she would be able to spot the sparkling Eiffel Tower through her balcony.

Despite doing nothing all day everyday, her body was exhausted. There was more anxiety in her system than she ever thought she could handle. Her only hopeful thought was the reminder that there would undoubtedly be something that would happen to throw her sensationalized story through the window. Someone would do something that would be more interesting, fresher, more exciting. Then, she would be off the hook.

Until then, she would just be hiding under her covers and dodging Harry's presence.

—————

(Y/N) blinked her tired eyes as she lay bundled up in her bed, the morning light a little too bright for her. She'd stayed up most of the night, scrolling through her phone mindlessly until she managed to flop asleep for a couple of hours. The sunshine woke her, the look of the stars in the night too enticing for (Y/N) to ever remember to close her drapes before the sun rose.

It didn't make her regret it any less in this moment, though.

Turning between her sheets, she gave her back to the open balcony doors, her eyes fluttering closed. She'll wake up a little later to eat something—hopefully, Harry would be busy elsewhere.

A moment later, with (Y/N) on the edge of sleep, a knock rattled her French doors. On instinct, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She did her best to pretend to sleep when she heard the same door open, pacing her breathing and relaxing her features as much as she could. If only she had kept her back to the door, she would have endured another few moments of the sunshine if it would have made this moment easier.

Harry entered her room after a beat, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. (Y/N) didn't waver in her act, keeping her eyes shut and breathing easy.

"I know you're awake."

She could feel her heart racing in her chest at his words. Just keep breathing, she reminded herself, keep breathing and keep her face relaxed.

The static in the room shifted, (Y/N) assuming he stepped towards her. "(Y/N)," he said, his voice firm, "I know you're awake."

(Y/N) stayed quiet. She could only imagine the way his lips thinned and that unimpressed gaze of his stayed stitched to her face.

"I just wanted to let you know that I found a pilates studio nearby and I booked you a spot for the morning class. It starts in a couple of hours. Shower and eat if you want, but we will be going either way."

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) broke her act in shock. Looking up at Harry from where she was bundled in bed, her bloodshot eyes met his intense gaze.

"What?"

Raising his brow, Harry looked a little too smug.

"I found a studio nearby for you," he started simply, the moss of his eyes stuck on hers, "They had a spot available in their morning class. I signed you up for it. 'M not going to let you miss this."

Shifting between the sheets, she curled her fingers around the hem of her sheet. "I don't feel good, Harry," she croaked, "I don't really want to—"

"Y'can't stay in your room the whole time we're here, (Y/N). You know that. Hiding isn't going to fix anything."

Behind her ribs, (Y/N) felt something begin to boil. "I'm not trying to fix anything. I just want to be left alone, Harry."

"That's not going to be possible while 'm here." He matched her intensity head on, unwavering where he stood. "Now, please get up, and I will see if I can put together some breakfast for you."

With that, Harry gave her his back as he stepped out of her room. He left the door wide open behind him, a tactic that made (Y/N)'s jaw clench and skin heat. He knew she wouldn't be able to stand having the door open, forcing her to get out of bed to close it.

Looking at him through her wide open doors, she spotted him puttering about the kitchen without a care in the world. It pissed her off even more.

Can't he see she's in a state of mourning? Her reputation and chunks of her self worth died that night at the Gala. She didn't need some sunshine-y pilates class, full of breathing techniques and affirmations. What she needed was her father to respect her, and everyone to leave her alone, and her head to be fucking quiet for once.

The rage bubbling in her chest propelled her out of bed, stomping over the floor with her sheets flung behind her. She was seething as she made it to the threshold, grasping the doorknobs with her hands rolled into fists. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she just wanted him to leave her alone, understand that she was pissed off and he wasn't helping even a little. All while he was prancing around their kitchen without care in the world.

She stopped in her tracks when she took in the fact that he really was prancing around the kitchen. As much as she wanted to be angry and seethe at him, he wasn't there without a care in the world. He was in the process of making breakfast for her. Using their limited supply of food seeing as she hadn't done any grocery shopping other than a single delivery and he didn't know his way around the city at all. He was sacrificing the little rounds of bread they had left for her.

The bar of her shoulders loosened to a slope, her jaw unclenching.

None of this was Harry's fault—she knew that. She was in therapy for two years for these kinds of anxiety issues, these gut feelings that made her so frustrated she was almost paralyzed. The real problem was the fact that she was scared. She didn't want to see the world, and she didn't want the world to see her. She didn't want someone to see her face and be reminded of the mascara that was pictured running down her cheeks, her cry-swollen lips, and the messy pile of hair that had been on her head.

That was none of Harry's fault, though. He was only trying to help her. She wasn't helping anyone—especially herself—by staying cooped up in her room and running on anxiety and three sips of water. While leaving her room and doing something as annoyingly centering as pilates sounded terrible in the moment, in the long run it would help her in ways she couldn't anticipate with her brain scrambled like this.

Carefully closing the doors behind her, (Y/N) turned back to her room and set for her bathroom to get ready for the day.

—————

Two hours away from her phone, the time filled with breathing, pushing the stretch of her muscles, and kind French women asking about her cute leggings, left (Y/N) feeling... nice.

Sweat stuck to her skin, baby hairs clung to the outskirts of her features, and her thighs ached, but she didn't mind. She couldn't find it in herself to have a complaint.

She stepped out of the studio, waving goodbye to the instructor with diffused red lipstick, (Y/N) faced the street to look for Harry with a soft smile on her features. She found the sedan on the curb just a handful of spots away from the entrance to the studio. Her steps were leisurely as she made her way over the concrete.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she patiently clicked her seatbelt and waited for Harry to pull away from the curb. Maybe he would be willing to let her grab a purple smoothie from one of the cafes by the penthouse.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, his tone careful as he slipped into the flow of Parisian traffic.

"Really good actually. Thank you." She didn't hesitate to flash him a soft-lipped smile. "You didn't have to do any of this for me, so it really means a lot."

Something prideful entered his features as he listened to her. The green in his eyes sparkled as he canted his head. "Y'haven't even seen the best part, yet."

"What do you mean?" A pinch in her brows marred her features.

"While y'were busy," he started, his hands sliding over the steering wheel as he smoothly turned at an intersection, "I was able to find one of your purple drinks at a café."

Directing her eyes to the center console between them, (Y/N) finally spotted the clear cup with her favorite purple smoothie inside. She took in a bubbly gasp, her features blooming in excitement.

"Harry! Thank you!" she squealed, grabbing the cup from the holder with her cardigan covered hands.

Harry didn't say anything in response, instead allowing the closest thing she'd ever seen to a full smile on his face come to fruition. She swore she saw the ghost of a dimple on one of his cheeks.

All it took was a single sip, the clear acid of pomegranate seeds and bright raspberry bursting over her tongue, that practically changed her entire outlook on life.

"This is, like, the best day of my life," (Y/N) joked with a fluffy laugh, greedily fitting the straw between her lips once more.

Harry let out just the faintest huff of air through his nose, his concentration on the road before them, as she gazed at him. The scape of Paris passed behind him, sunlight shaping his silhouette.

She wasn't so sure she was joking about this being the best day, anymore.

—————

"You've never been to Paris before this? Not even with Camila and Monroe?"

Swallowing down a bite of his breakfast sandwich, Harry cleared his throat as he shook his head. "No. They preferred going through the states."

"Wow," (Y/N) sounded, slowly dragging her piece of buttery toast through the remaining hollandaise sauce on her plate. "This is your first time ever."

"Mhm," he hummed, peeking at her through the fan of his lashes, "That's what I said."

While (Y/N) didn't like to think of herself as spoiled or out of touch, she guessed maybe she forgot that international travel wasn't the norm for most people. Paris was like a second home to her, it was crazy to think that Harry hadn't had the joy of visiting, even if for a day.

"I have to show you around then," she mused, making the decision on her own. Seeing the Eiffel Tower from his balcony wasn't enough, she had to show him the real deal.

Harry raised his brows, his shoulders hunching over his plate as he took another bite of his sandwich. He waited until he had swallowed before speaking. "Show me around?"

"Yes! You need to be a tourist, a little," (Y/N) bleated, "It would be fun, don't you think? I'll show you all of the famous spots, and I can show you my favorites, too."

Sipping his coffee, Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes on her. He seemed to have brought his observing gaze along from home. "That would be really nice, actually. Thank you, (Y/N)."

Practically bouncing in her seat, she leant across as if sharing a secret. "Can we do it today, then? Or did you have other plans?"

"Seeing as how 'm here with you, I think you are my only plans."

(Y/N) didn't expect the flutter that happened in her chest. Warmth bubbled behind her cheeks when he didn't seem to be teasing her at all, instead that intensity still followed as he spoke.

He flustered her a bit.

"Good," she sounded, swallowing around her tongue as she disconnected their eye contact, "Finish eating, and then we'll go be tourists."

—————

Peering down at her phone, (Y/N) did her best to be aware of her surroundings while poking at the map of Paris on her screen.

"I think we'll start easy and see the Eiffel Tower first," (Y/N) mused, leading them in the direction of the train station that would take them to the attraction.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, looking down at her with a small kink to his brow.

"Mhm," she hummed happily, "It's way better up close and in person, honestly. We could go later to see it at night with all the twinkle lights, but I think I might be too excited to wait."

That phantom smile settled on his lips for the second time. "I think we could do that, come back and see the twinkle lights. I think it would be a lot of fun."

Eagerly nodding her head, (Y/N) couldn't wait to add the plans to the set mental itinerary she was lacing together. "If you're not too tired after the Tower, there are a few other places I wanted to visit today."

"And, what are those?"

(Y/N)'s babbling filled the air between them, her hands gesturing as she spoke. She had a list forming in her head, landmarks popping up as she went that she swore she needed to show him at least once before their time in Paris was over.

He didn't stop her as she bubbled on, dominating the conversation while only vaguely guiding her down the pedestrian path and keeping her out of danger. She was the one that knew the city, but it seemed she still didn't pay a whole lot of attention to her surroundings. His hand was a curling breeze over her back, palm grazing between her shoulder blades.

Hitting the train station, Harry didn't slack on the way he herded her around, acting as a wall between herself and the public. Even with the fact that Paris was decidedly less crazy for her, less recognition and less people bold enough to approach her (she'd only seen a handful of people take photos of her even), he didn't waver on his job.

"Careful," he told her when they stepped onto the train, him just a foot behind.

Staying quiet, (Y/N) blinked looking around the train car. It was full this morning, tourists and the like taking up each seat with others standing by the bars. She hesitated in her steps, unsure of where to go as a handful of others boarded with them. Taking over, Harry guided her inside, pushing her to an unoccupied corner by a rail.

"Hang on," he told her, huddling her into the small space.

Instantly, she had her hand wrapped around the bar, Harry grabbing the one above their heads. He stood facing her, his back to the rest of the car while she looked up at him with her phone in her free hand.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Harry gave her a small nod, his gaze looking out the window.

The intercom dinged once the doors closed, a calm female voice running over the map of the next stop in French. Pulling out her phone, she reloaded the page of all the stops and the schedules. "I think we're the last stop," she told Harry, tapping at her phone distractedly.

Suddenly, she was thrown off balance once the train shot off, the slow startup being left behind. (Y/N) stumbled, her grip on the handrail clearly not tight enough. Quick as ever, Harry stopped her with a hand on her waist, keeping her upright as her eyes widened and a gasp fell from her lips.

Harry's voice was low as he righted her, the train steadying in speed, "I told you to be careful."

Her hand with her phone continued to cling to his arm even when she was flat on her feet once more.

"I guess I forgot how these are. Sorry," she mumbled, pulling her gaze from where she centered on the dip of his throat up to his face.

Amusement laced through his features in a slight softening of the edges light in his irises. "Maybe."

Harry didn't move his hand from her waist until he ushered her to take a vacated seat.

—————

Walking down the uneven pathways, (Y/N) took the familiar route in stride. The train dropped them off near the Eiffel Tower, but there was still a short walk to be had. Harry was at her side as they mixed in with the flow of tourists and locals set around the area.

Everything was much cooler here. New York was new and eccentric, full of people setting trends with others following. It was loud and brash, full to the brim with everything and anything. Paris was different. It still moved fast—it was still a major city after all—, but cooler. There was an ease about the people, the palettes, the decorum. Everything worked on the same flow as the Seine, leisurely and winding with a cigarette in hand. She tended to travel here in the summer with lavender fields blooming, but she wondered what a Parisian winter would be like.

She imagined lots of soup and wine.

"We're almost there," she told him, casting her gaze outwards to catch the tower in the distance, "But, if we went down that way"—she pointed down another walkway—"we'd be able to see the second Statue of Liberty they have here."

"There's another one?" Harry asked, following the direction of her pointed finger.

"Mhm," she hummed, keeping them moving forward, "I can't remember his name, but a French architect designed the statue and made two—one for us and one to keep."

Harry took in the information in his silently observant ways, cataloguing it all to be filed away. "What else is around here?"

(Y/N) bounced in her steps at the question, all too excited to tell him more about the city she loved. With how widespread and different Paris was depending on the section of the city you ended up in, it was easy to forget how some of the most beautiful pieces of human culture were only planted miles apart. She could be Harry's tour guide for weeks just to get through every spot in Paris.

She took her time pointing him in every which direction, telling him more and more while glimpsing other spots she told him she wanted to stop at if they had the time. Soon enough, the Tower was before them, the lawn around the fixture lush and dotted with tourists.

In the mid-morning light, it glimmered like the lights were blinking on, shimmering and dancing under the sun.

"Wow," Harry murmured, almost breaking his neck as he looked up at it, his steps absently moving him closer.

A wink of pride touched (Y/N)'s chest. She couldn't believe with how well travelled he seemed that he never had seen a place like this, but she would take the honor of being the one to show him. Maybe it wasn't so bad that she got him exiled here if she was able to share something like this.

"It's crazy, right?" she asked, her voice a breath as if to not disturb the towering structure, "I know back home has all the skyscrapers and everything, but this just feels like it's more. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice floated on impressed awe. "Better than the photos, like you said."

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw the way Harry looked up with wonder in his eyes at the Tower. She was sure he was catching every detail, ever rung, every bolt.

"So you wouldn't want a picture with it, then?" (Y/N) teased, watching the way a pinch appeared in Harry's brow.

"No, of course I want a picture." The slight pout to his lips had (Y/N)'s grin widening into a bubbling laugh. She wondered if he even knew he made a face like that.

Taking his eyes off the Tower for the first time since approaching the green, he looked to her with his own lips plucking into something amused. It wasn't a full smile, not yet, but something lopsided and reserved. She spotted that phantom dimple.

Blinking back into the moment, (Y/N) took a step back, intending to photograph Harry in front of the monument. He took his phone out from his back pocket, not even glancing at her before he was casting his gaze around elsewhere. The moment she was about to offer, reaching for his phone, he honed in on a family of tourists, the father with his own camera trained above his head as he took shot after shot of the scene.

"Excuse me," Harry started, stepping towards them, "Would y'mind taking our photo, please?"

The tourist agreed with a bright Sure!, taking Harry's phone from him once being instructed on how to use it. Guiding them back to where (Y/N) stood in wait, she saw as the rest of the family seemed to notice what was going on. The mother and the daughter of the group took in (Y/N)'s presence, eyes widening while the father went along oblivious. They recognized her, that much she could tell.

She didn't know what to process first, honestly. Harry wanting her to be in his picture, or the whispers that were currently being shared by the family in front of her, eyes glancing in her direction more often than not.

"Here, alright?" Harry asked, looking down at where she stood at his side, "Or do y'want to move?"

"Here is fine," she said, a slight smile on her features.

"Ready?" the father asked, poising Harry's phone for the best angles.

Wordlessly, Harry offered her his arm. She hesitated for only a second, turning into him with one hand fitting into the crook of her elbow with the other on the broad of his shoulder. She couldn't help the bright grin on her features, no longer a part of the pose she was giving for the camera. The whole of his side was pressed against her, reminding her of the only bright spots she experienced during the Gala: when Harry held her.

She happily posed beside him as the tourist tapped away at Harry's phone, changing the angles once or twice. "Are these alright?" he asked once he was finished, holding the phone out for Harry to take.

Breaking away from his side, (Y/N) lingered closer than she figured was probably normal as he flicked through the additions to his camera roll. She tried not to read too far into the slight smile on his lips as he did so.

"These are perfect, thank you," he responded, fitting his phone back into his pocket.

"Thank you," (Y/N) parroted, feeling the eyes of the daughter and mother on her during her brief speech.

Pleasantries were exchanged, Harry offering to take a photo of the family that was waved off before parting ways. The daughter only glanced back at her once after.

That bubbly feeling in (Y/N)'s stomach remained when she turned her gaze towards Harry. "Did you want one of just you, or anything?"

Harry shook his head, curls of brown hair fluffing over his head. "'M okay," he told her, "I like these."

(Y/N) didn't know what to say, instead allowing a small smile to settle on her lips. Redirecting her gaze to the Tower, she did her best to pretend like she wasn't hanging off of every word he was giving.

"Can we come back?"

Blinking, (Y/N) fell back into the moment, her eyes sweeping across the land on him. "Hm?"

"I want to come back at night when the lights are on, if that's alright."

This time she couldn't suppress the toothy smile that fit onto her lips.

"I think we could do that."

Maybe they could grab another photo together, the tower shimmering behind.

—————

"Are you okay with one more stop?"

Harry, now familiar with the route from the train station to the apartment, guided them back down the pedestrian streets. He looked down at her from where the sun was gliding over her skin, the late afternoon hours catching up with the sinking sun.

"I think I can handle it," he mused, maneuvering her out of the way of a large group. "What did you have in mind?"

(Y/N) perked up at his agreement. She walked with a bounce in her steps as if her muscles weren't beginning to ache from the full day of sightseeing. Despite the grumble in her stomach and her throat feeling a little too dry to be normal, she felt light. Showing Harry around and introducing him to the country's greatest landmarks was more than worth it.

His camera roll was full of photos of the day, a good handful of them including (Y/N) after he beckoned her to join him. Even the places they didn't have time to properly visit (the Lourve being the most notable one), Harry didn't seem annoyed that she wanted to spend a moment outside, instead indulging her with taking photos and asking about her own experiences. There were separate days entirely that they planned on using to visit the vast amount of libraries and museums in the area.

"There's a place by the apartment called the Les Duex Magots," she said, peering around the neighbourhood in hopes of catching sight of the awning.

"And what's special about it?"

Catching sight of it down the walkway, there was the same line down the walk that there always was at this time of day. The patio was warm and glimmering in the sunlight, tiny cups of coffee and pastries out on the tables beside people who brought their journals and laptops. Conversations in French fluttered in the wind, carrying inspiration.

"This is where a bunch of artists, and authors, and philosophers would come and sit and make some of the stuff that's now in the museums. Amazing stuff has come from here," she said, wonder in her tone. What would it have been like to be those people, scribbling away in journals or sketching on napkins unknowing of what would come later.

Looking down at her, Harry crooked an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he asked, the golden sun ferreting out the bright flecks in the moss of his eyes.

"Mhm," she hummed, a beaming smile on her face, "It's a little bit of a tourist trap now, but I still think it's special."

A beat passed, Harry's observant eyes grazing over the planes of her face. "Let's go then, yeah?"

(Y/N) felt the creases beside her eyes deepen with the width of her smile. "Yeah," she repeated, her voice sounding softer than she'd ever heard without cameras present.

Approaching the end of the line, (Y/N) could hear murmurings of the wait time. The estimates were closer to that of an hour before they would be offered a table—and that's assuming that the patio patrons don't linger.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) began inching around the line in hopes of catching a glimpse of those on shift. She played with the edges of her acrylics as she weighed her options.

Turning back to face Harry, she started towards the front of the line. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Harry pressed, stepping to follow her on instinct.

"I'm just going to check on something, but wait right here. I'll be back in a second," she promised, shooting him a small smile.

After a beat, Harry stood down. "Jus' stay where I can see you, please," he conditioned, his hands coming to clasp together at his front.

With that, (Y/N) continued towards the front in hopes of seeing a familiar face. While there was a bit of guilt over the privilege of being recognized in places like these, special treatment coming around from certain people, there were days like these where she intended to bury it away. If being recognized and taking up favors allowed for Harry to have a special day, that's what she would do.

That's why she didn't feel so bad when she saw the familiar face of one of the higher ups of the cafe, his brown eyes widening when he took her in through the glass entryway.

"(Y/N), mon chéri! Bonjour, bonjour!" he bubbled off as he stepped around the awaiting patrons. He greeted her with open arms, happily wrapping her in a hug before pressing a duo of kisses to her cheeks.

(Y/N) fawned under the attention, "Bonjour, Benoit! Je suis si heureux de te voir! J'avais peur que tu me manques ce soir."

Onlookers watched their interaction, none seemingly paying much attention to who (Y/N) was other than the fact she was cozying up with someone of the establishment.

"Je ne savais même pas que tu étais à Paris, ma chérie," Benoit mused, his words tumbling over each other the way they always did with the amount of energy that seemed to always be coursing through him. He began inching her towards the entrance, soft hand on her elbow, "Je suis content que tu ne m'aies pas manqué non plus, allez allez."

"C'était un voyage de dernière minute, donc je n'ai pas eu l'occasion de le dire à beaucoup de gens," she responded, sinking her feet in before she could wander out of Harry's line of sight, "Mais, j'ai amené un ami avec moi cette fois, ça te dérange si je l'attrape d'abord?"

Benoit dropped his hand from her, "Non, non ça ne me dérange pas!"

He shooed her off with a flick of his wrist, expectantly waiting for her to return with her friend.

Stepping around the line, she beckoned Harry to her with a short smile.

"What's going on?" Harry murmured once he was close enough, head low to match his tone.

"I know someone here, and I think he's going to get us a table early," (Y/N) mumbled, molding her features into a pleasant smile as they approached Benoit.

(Y/N) just hoped Harry wouldn't think less of her for using this small advantage. She wanted to keep this special day going for him, even if that meant pulling a few strings so he would have a chance to eat sooner rather than later.

Rejoining her friend, she gestured to Harry with a flourish. "Benny, c'est Harry. C'est sa première fois à Paris, alors je lui ai montré tous les meilleurs spots aujourd'hui."

Benoit fawned under the compliments, guiding them towards the entrance as he fanned himself over his shoulder. "Oh, alors bien sûr vous l'avez amené me rencontrer. Merci ma chérie, le sentiment est réciproque."

Letting out a peal of laughter, (Y/N) took Harry's arm in her grasp and towed him behind. Following Benoit, she indulged in his idle chatter while they meandered through the full tables. Finding their way to the back, she saw as he muttered something to one of the servers, her eyes flitting over her manager's shoulder to spot her and Harry. Benoit dropped them off at a table farther in the back, as secluded as they could get in the crowded restaurant.

He looked at her with an arched brow as he pulled out a chair for her. "C'est parfait, mon amour!" she answered his unsaid question.

"Magnifique!" he cheered, pushing in her chair once she was situated against the cushioned bottom, Harry across the table. "Colette s'occupera de toi, mais dis-moi si tu as besoin de quoi que ce soit, ma chérie!"

Benoit left their table in a flourish, dramatically French as always. Directing her attention back to her companion, (Y/N) found Harry looking at her with his forearms on the table and raised brows.

She felt a bit silly now, knowing he saw the whole interaction and the specific strings she pulled to get this table. "I've known him since I started coming to Paris by myself after I turned eighteen," she started, dropping her eyes to the menu in front of her, "He would check up on me a lot and make sure I was alright. He's like my older brother."

"That's very nice of him," Harry murmured, that arch to his brow lowering, "What was his name, again?"

"Benoit," she answered, reading over the French script on her menu, "I kinda feel bad about letting him have us skip the line, but at the same time, I'm really hungry."

"I don't blame you," Harry muttered, amusement tinting his tone as he looked at his own menu.

A beat of silence passed before she heard a quiet oh from across the table.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, taking her eyes off the laminate to land on Harry.

He had his menu flat on the table, the glimmering script taking her eyes while he read it over. He startled at her question, his gaze flicking up towards her.

"This place is jus'... different than what I thought," he shared.

"What do you mean?"

Rolling his neck, his head cushioned by his shoulders, she watched as he tried to find his words. "I thought this was a café, so I don't think I was expecting everything else."

Glancing down at her menu, trying to find what would have taken him by surprise, she found the context. She couldn't imagine he knew much French, especially with the way she took the lead today when speaking to locals and understanding directions. The only thing she could see him clearly understanding were the gilded numbers beside the items.

Ducking her head low, she craned her neck towards him as if they could really share a secret in this crowded restaurant.

"It's definitely overpriced," she murmured to him, flicking her eyes to the menu in his hand, "There's better stuff for cheaper around the corner, but I think it's all about the experience. We're where some of the greatest people in history have sat."

That phantom smile reached his lips once more as he looked at her over the table, buttery golden light reaching through the windows panelling the front. "I can see that," he mused, the impression of a dimple showing for just a moment to the right of his raspberry lips.

She matched his smile, though hers was decidedly less hidden. She lingered in that space for another moment before pulling back. "I'll take care of everything today, anyway. Don't worry about it."

No way was she going to let him pay for himself when this entire day was her idea, she decided. She doubted Harry would want to hear that, though, considering she was beginning to see just how seriously he took his job of her wellbeing.

When she could still feel his eyes on her, something sharper behind his usual observant gaze, she decided to ignore the protests he would give.

"Do you know what you want?" she asked instead, not taking her eyes off of the menu.

When he didn't immediately answer, she peeked over the edge of her menu through the fan of her lashes. He had his eyes trained on the script once more, a pinch between his brows. Harry canted his head as he read. "Everything's in French."

"Yeah," she responded simply.

A huff of laughter left him at her answer. "Yeah."

"Do you want me to translate anything for you?" she asked, scooting her chair in that much more as if it would make a difference.

"That might help," he accepted, "As 'm sure y'noticed today, I don't know really any French."

Reaching across the table, she pointed through the categories on the menu, listing them off for Harry in English. "And, there's croissants and pastries and stuff, here," she finished, circling out the final section on the page.

Harry squinted at the page, his head canted to the side as he examined for himself. "What's that?" he asked, pointing out one of the main courses, "That's a sandwich, right?"

"Mhm," (Y/N) chirped, tipping her head to get a chance to run over the script, "It's a smoked salmon sandwich with avocado and fries, and a bunch of other yummy stuff."

"Oh. How do you say it?"

"Club sandwich au saumon fumé 'petrossian',"(Y/N) responded simply in the French pronunciation of the meal, swirling the syllables into something fluid. Flicking her gaze up, she found his eyes trained on her.

When he was caught, he blinked down and pointed at another item on the menu. "What's that?"

Following his direction, she told him, "Snails, but they're these really big kind, an—"

"No, no—in French."

"Oh," she started, a pinch appearing in her brow. Nonetheless, she repeated her words in her alternate language, "Escargots géants et sauvages de Bourgogne."

Harry's eyes lingered on her before he pointed at the menu once more, another sandwich at the end of his finger. "This?"

Though it was clear Harry wasn't necessarily paying much attention to what she was saying, but still she humored him. "Crottin chaud sur pain Poilâne poivré—it's just goat cheese on bread."

This time, Harry didn't even look at where his finger landed randomly on the page, his eyes fixed on her. "This?"

She couldn't keep her laughter in this time. "Harry," she smiled, "That's a croissant."

Blinking with a flutter of his lashes, he finally looked at where his hand was pointing. "Oh, yeah," he agreed, a huff of soft laughter falling from his lips.

Giving up on the game, (Y/N) cradled her chin in her palm, elbow on the table. "I can teach you some French if you want?"

Looking up at her, the length of his lashes highlighted in the draping sunlight. "Yeah?"

"Of course," she agreed with a curling smile. Tracing her eyes over the menu, she randomly picked a wine from the list. Tilting the page towards him, with her finger pointing at the name. "Do you want to try saying this?"

"Maybe," Harry mused, squinting his eyelids to take in the diacritics over the letters.

"Just repeat after me: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She could feel Harry's eyes on her lips, her mouth wrapping around the syllables and twirling through the accent.

A beat passed before Harry seemed to snap into the moment. He clumsily attempted to pronounce the wine, struggling with the first word as if he hadn't just heard how to say it.

"No, no, like this," she said, with a soft breath of laughter, "Hautes-Côtes de Beaune." She emphasized the particle he stumbled over, dipping her chin and slowing her words.

Once again, he murmured the incorrect pronunciation though he did a hair better than before.

"Better," she praised, a caveat coming just from the tone of voice, "But try this: Hautes-Côtes de Beaune."

When he copied her once more, he somehow butchered the words that much more. (Y/N) couldn't help the peal of laughter that filled the space between them, rising over the dull roar of the restaurant. She could feel eyes flittering to her, taking in her disruptive presence with some recognizing her and others just annoyed in the most French of fashion. Though, (Y/N) didn't care.

There was a part of her that had to know that he was playing up his inability, she liked thinking his guard might have fallen some. She remembered thinking that she couldn't imagine anything Harry couldn't handle or wasn't the best at. It wasn't much, but this was the most vulnerable she'd seen him, and all it took was a shaky accent and butchered French wine.

"You'll get it soon," she breathed out a laugh, cradling her chin in her palm.

"Yeah? You'll keep helping me, then?" he pressed, that ghost dimple pressing into his cheek.

(Y/N) allowed her eyes to travel over his features. She took in the dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the blonde stubble over his cheeks, the gentle lines on the corners of his eyes. If she wasn't careful, her bodyguard was going to be recruited for a runway show.

"Of course," she confirmed, "You'll be like a local by the time we leave."

And for a moment, she didn't find herself itching to know when that time would be.

—————

"How do y'say that?"

"Tomate."

"That?"

"Carotte."

"That?"

"Poireau."

"That?"

Looking up from the stall of the farmer's market (Y/N) was browsing, she looked at him with raised brows and a quiet smile. "Are you even trying to learn anymore, or are you just trying to see if I actually know French?"

Quickly flicking his gaze up to match her own, Harry responded, "I mean, I think 'm learning."

"Yeah?" she pressed, examining a stalk of celery from one of the stalls, "What are we making for dinner, then?"

(Y/N) couldn't deny the tiny bit of pleasure she got over hearing him gum around the accented words she told him before they started out for the farmer's market.

"Close!" she chirped, offering a smile to the attendant of the vegetable stall.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, his features brightening from the corner of her eye.

"Mhm," she hummed, placing the onion, celery, and tomatoes she wanted on the checkout station at the end of the stall, "With an accent it would be gougeres and bisqué. But, we'll work on that."

Harry left her be as she conversed with the stall worker, working out the pricing for her ingredients before moving on with the vegetables now stowed in her tote bag.

Meandering through the stalls, Harry followed behind, diligently scanning the crowd. Even if (Y/N) had stepped out of the public eye for the time being, he didn't slack on his job. Without removing his eyes from the crowded market, he spoke to her in his smooth tone.

"And a bisque is a soup right?" he murmured.

(Y/N) hummed in confirmation, having led them to a further back stall with panels of ice spread out under an extensive tent. Spread across the ice was fresh seafood in the form of chilled crabs and bags of large prawns. Lobsters and whole fix were kept in the back, clams and mussels nestled in-between cubes of replenished ice.

"Isn’t it a little... hot for soup?" Harry prodded from behind her.

Shrugging, (Y/N) absently answered, "That's what you'd think. Then you have some soup and realize it doesn't really matter what the weather is, soup is always good." Taking a step towards the table, she looked at him, "This is the last thing we need, then we can go."

He didn't have a chance to respond before (Y/N) was selecting seafoods to be added to their bisque, the last thing on the list before they would need to head back to the apartment. He stood back as she plucked up her ingredients and spoke to the attendant, feeling his eyes on her as she went.

With her tote now filled with her finds, the shells of the crabs pinging against the bottle of white wine beside it, she gave the worker a smile before turning to Harry. Just in time with her own departure, another patron made their move through the tent, blindly crashing into her. His head of dark hair was a flash from the corner of her eye, mumbled apologies being offered in broken French. Before (Y/N) could give much of a response, Harry was at her side.

Positioning himself in between (Y/N) and the other man, Harry slipped into his bodyguard role, protecting her from even the smallest of accidents. He steadied her on her feet, ensuring she was balanced with a hand on her elbow and another slipping around her waist. The man who had bumped into her was blocked off, rushing away after another muttered apology with his eyes on the ground.

"Are y'okay?" Harry murmured, towing her to one of the further corners of the tent, away from the other shoppers.

She nodded her head, allowing him to keep his lingering hold on her before he pulled away. "I'm okay. Sorry," she told him, peering around him in hopes of finding the man to assure him it was alright. Unfortunately, he had slipped away already. Maybe it was from how quickly everything moved, the way the man appeared then seamlessly entered in with the crowd once more, but (Y/N) she recognized the flash of his features she saw. She shook her head from the though, placing her attention back on Harry. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

His observant gaze flitted over her form, his hands drifting from her. "'S alright, as long as you're okay," he assured her, "M'job has been a lot easier here, so I don't mind stepping in if y'need."

"Paris is always a little bit easier for me," she told him, following after him as he inched out of the seafood stall into the stream of patrons outside. "I don't think I'm that recognizable here, so that always helps after something like what happened at the Gala."

Harry visibly tensed as he fell into step beside her. "Have y'heard from your dad at all?" he asked, his gaze cast out ahead of them.

A beat passed.

"No. Have you?"

Harry's jaw ticked at her question. "He's talked to me some, yes."

(Y/N) left the conversation there, unwilling and uninterested in what that conversation looked like. She doubted it was positive when it came to her.

"You're ready to head back?" Harry prodded after a moment, decidedly less tense after the silence.

"Yes, please," she answered simply.

—————

Spreading her mail across the tiled counter, (Y/N) froze when she felt an envelope that was a little too heavy to belong amongst the thin slips.

While she knew it was slowly beginning to leak that she had escaped to Paris, blurry photos resurfacing with people questioning if it could really be her, she figured it would be too up in the air for a letter like this to show up.

Slipping her finger under the flap of the creamy envelope, (Y/N) couldn't help her curiosity. What kind of photos could have been obtained when she swore she didn't see a single person following her, a single professional camera aimed in her direction. Harry would have no doubt seen anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't imagine anything slipping under his watch, let alone an envelope's full.

Taking advantage of the time she had alone, Harry using the restroom before he would be used as an extra pair of hands, she pulled out the glossy photos.

Photos of her stepping into her apartment building greeted her first, her pilates uniform adorning her body. Harry had been cropped from the shot, but the edge of his arm could be seen from where he followed behind her. Others of her going to the studio, climbing into Harry's car, sightseeing around the city were in the bundle. There were shots of them at the Eiffel Tower, cruising the pedestrian walkways, catching dinner at the café. There were even pictures of them on the train together, close enough to capture her shock when she almost stumbled after the jolting take off.

It was odd to say the least. Not once in any of those places—especially on the train—had she spotted a camera that could produce the kind of quality these photos possessed.

Underneath them all was a letter. The paper was soft against the pads of her fingers, the edges of her nails catching the folded seam. She swallowed at the sight of the worn paper.

This was the first time in at least a year that she even opened one of these envelopes, she wasn't sure she could stomach reading a letter at the same time.

Just then, the sound of the sink running filtered into her brain. Harry would be out here soon, and he couldn't see this.

In a split second, she collected the photos in a jumbled mess and slipped them back inside the envelope. She practically sprinted across the apartment to her room. The letter found a new home in the bottom drawer of her vanity, under a stack of eyeshadow palettes she rarely used anymore.

She emerged from her room at the same time Harry stepped into the common room. His eyes were cast towards the kitchen where she was sure he expected to find her.

"When do y'think dinner will be ready?" he asked, flicking his eyes towards her once he caught her leaving her room.

Forgetting the letter in her room, the small fire she doused in the vanity drawer, she gave him a look with raised brows. "You don't think you're helping?"

—————

"Harry, just keep stirring. I promise it's almost done."

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to see the impatient slump of his shoulders at her words. She had tasked him with watching the bisqué while she prepped the seafood that would be plopped in at the end, and infusing the butter that was to be dropped in during serving. It wasn't a hard job he was in charge of, but it was one that she would rather be delegated to him.

"I've been stirring for thirty minutes now," he complained again, his voice closer to that of a petulant child than the calm security detail she knew him to be.

"It's been, like, five, but okay," she bubbled back, a smile audible in her tone.

It was almost endearing to see him like this, she thought. He'd never played with her before like this, given her this kind of leeway and release under his walls.

"(Y/N)," he tried again, as if saying her name was enough to convince her.

Carrying her cutting board of prepped seafood—rich crab and tiny shrimp—she came up behind him on careful steps. "Okay, okay," she relented, "We just need to put the crab and everything in, let it simmer for another five minutes since we already cooked it, and then it's done. Can you handle that?"

"Finally," Harry sighed, acting as if pounds of weight were being lifted off of his shoulders. All because he couldn't handle stirring a soup for longer than a handful of minutes.

Letting out a huff of laughter, she shook her head. From the corner of her eye, she definitely caught those dimples in his cheeks once more, this time a little less than those of a phantom.

"Go deal with the gougeres, then. I'll finish the bisqué."

"Okay," he mumbled, a little too eager to let go of the wooden spoon he had been equipped with. As he approached the cooling pan of the small savory pastries, (Y/N) could hear him attempting to pronounce the name in a proper accent.

A grin stretched across her features at the sound.

Soon enough, the bisqué was doled out between wide bowls, a dollop of butter dropped on top with Harry's arranged platter of gougeres in the middle. The balcony drapes were wide open, allowing a view over the city, buttery and warm under the waning light. The ladder of the Eiffel Tower glimmered like gold in the light, the green around it that much more vivid in the distance.

(Y/N) waited to take her first bite, resisting the lumps of crab meat and spiced broth in front of her, until Harry took his spot across. She was surely a little too eager to see him take his first bite, to catch his reaction.

"I want you to try it first," she told him once he was settled in, a toothy smile on her features.

"Yeah?" he asked, already picking up the wide spoon she had selected for him. He flicked his gaze up to match hers with raised brows.

(Y/N) only answered with a small nod, a little too distracted from the view of his eyes.

He maintained that eye contact with her as he scooped up a fruitful bite, taking to heart that she wanted him to try it first in hopes of learning his reaction. She wanted to feel unnerved by it, awkward knowing that he wasn't wavering in the contact, but she couldn't find that in her when she was glancing at the bits of sunlight amongst the green.

Taking that first bite, it took half a second before Harry was humming with his full mouth. He was impressed, that much she could tell from the reverence he gave as he looked down at his bowl. "This is good—really good."

Practically bouncing in her seat, (Y/N) bubbled, "I told you so! All the stirring was worth it, huh?"

Canting his head, Harry playfully contemplated her words. "I guess so," he relented with a heavy sigh.

A lopsided smile touched at the very corner of his mouth.

Blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) tried not to be too fixated on the half smile he was offering her. "Try it with one of the gougeres!"

Feeling vindicated, (Y/N) began her own meal, scooping up a hearty bite of the bisqué, steam rolling off the bite. She couldn't wait for it to cool, chancing that heated bite in favor of trying it sooner rather than later.

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I have a feeling you know 'm going to say this is good, huh?" Harry teased, reaching for one of the cheese pastries from the platter.

"Sure," she said, swallowing down the rich soup, "But, I like to hear it anyway."

Shaking his head a little, he scooped up the bisqué with the help of the gougere. "Do you always cook like this?" he asked, allowing the tomato broth to soak the treat, "I didn't notice anything like this back in the States."

"Sometimes," she said in-between her own bites, savoring the spice she added to the broth, "when I have the time. But I tru to make the time whenever I can. It's one of my favorite things to do."

"Cooking?" Harry pressed, sinking into the conversation between indulgent bites of dinner.

She nodded her head with a hum, stealing her own gougere. "It's really fun to me," she explained, "When I was little, my parents were gone a lot so I spent a lot of time with the chefs we had, so I learned a lot then. When I started at my private school, though, that's when I started making my own stuff for me and my friends. It's just been one of those things that's stuck with me."

Harry watched her intently, soaking her in with those observant eyes. She could see him making connections in his head, fitting puzzle pieces of her in his head. The thought made (Y/N) want to squirm. At the same time she was itching to know what kind of picture he was threading of her, she dreaded to know any kind of detail.

"What did I tell you, though?" she started, changing the subject with her gaze falling from him, "Soup is good all the time—even in the summer."

Nodding his head, Harry pursed his lips. "Today, I will allow you to be right. Jus' today, though."

Sinking into the moment, she allowed a peal of laughter to fall from her lips. Harry looked at her with a hidden smile. his teeth keeping him from fully grinning even if (Y/N) swore she could see that kind of amusement in his eyes.

—————

Fran🫧

guess what !!!

Sipping on her purple juice, (Y/N) read her text messages before she would commit to her post-pilates shower for the morning.

what !!!???

A beat passed while (Y/N) swiped to another app, a video of a decadent dessert recipe on her screen. Francesca didn't wait very long to respond, the notification getting (Y/N)'s eyes to widen and her immediate rerouting to her message thread.

Fran🫧

im on a flight to Paris rn :)

Sitting up straight from where she was lounging on her bed, (Y/N) typed back an immediate response.

are you serious right now????

ur joking right

In response, a selfie of Francesca came through, her smiling face backed by the pristine leather of her private jet with her favorite pajama set adoring her torso.

Francesca stop

youre kidding right :(

Fran🫧

im not joking!!!!

I wanted to visit you !!! its been almost a month (Y/N):( I missed you!!!!

(Y/N) was practically thrumming with excitement. She hadn't realized how much she missed her best friend until she was presented with the opportunity to be reunited with her.

when are you landing!!!!!!

if you can we need to do dinner or something!

Fran🫧

ofc we do ! I'll text u when I land and when I get to my place and then I'll see what im doing and if im not too jet lagged

Emma was also thinking about coming this weekend too but last I checked she was seeing what stavros is doing

bc shes obsessed rn

(Y/N) huffed out laughter at her message. She missed Emma too, more than she expected to considering Emma hadn't even known she was on her way out before she had booked her flight.

at least she's happy I guess sufhsufhsu

im so excited to see you ive miss u so much!!!!!!

When Francesca's response bubble didn't immediately pop up, (Y/N) locked her phone, flouncing out of her room with a bubbling grin. Pulling open her bedroom door, she saw Harry cleaning up the kitchen from the morning's breakfast before her pilates class, his head whipping up to catch her emergence.

"Harry, guess what!"

"What?" he asked, swiping a cloth across the counter.

"Fran is coming to visit," (Y/N) rushed out, "She's on a flight right now!"

"Francesca?" he asked, his movements slowing as he looked at her with raised brows.

"Yes! She just texted me," she explained, her grin sticking to her cheeks, "And, Emma might be able to come out this weekend."

It was practically visible the way the gears in his head began turning. Apprehension appeared as he leant against the lip of the counter. "That's exciting," he granted her, "What plans do y'have with her?"

That was her security speaking then. He was the one with thinned lips and narrow eyes.

"I'm not sure yet," she said, gesturing with her smoothie and phone in hand, "I'm just thinking about dinner with Fran when she lands, but I'm sure if Emma's able to make it out, we'll want to go out together."

He gave her a slow nod, things working behind the scenes as he blinked at her. "Okay."

The longer that beat of silence rang on, (Y/N) felt unease creep in. Maybe Harry didn't trust her as much as she thought.

She'd been doing so well since he helped her out of that rut those first few days, but maybe he worried bringing her friends back into the equation would elicit something he hoped they left back in New York. She wondered if he had those pictures of her in mind, the runny mascara and panic she had in the bathroom of the gallery.

Leveling her energy, she made a point to meet his contemplative gaze. "I promise I'll behave. I won't cause any trouble or anything."

Shaking his head, Harry dismissed her in a moment. "'M not worried about that, (Y/N)."

Unable to school her features, she felt her eyes widen and posture straighten. She couldn't think of a time when she wasn't anticipated as the trouble maker.

"You're not?"

Blinking out of his head, Harry shook his head again, meeting her eyes with intention. "Don't worry about me, okay?" he told her, voice gentle in the space between, "Its m'job to think of all the scenarios and everything, but 's not something y'need to concern yourself with. Let me do that, you jus' have fun."

Though she was a bit dumbstruck, unable to really understand how to move forward without that kind of expectation following her, she still nodded her head. Nonetheless, even if Harry wasn't looking for that kind of promise, she would give it to herself. She wasn't going to stir any kind of drama or trouble.

She'd make Harry proud.

—————

Francesca, leaning over the dinner table with a makeup free face and her travel clothes on her form, gave (Y/N) a sly smile.

"So," she started, her voice low as if Harry wasn't already two rooms away from their conversation, privacy being the only other person joining their table, "your bodyguard."

Nodding her head, (Y/N) plucked a piece of brie from the cheese board they were sharing, "Yeah?"

"Did something happen?" Francesca pressed, something glimmering in her eyes.

A pinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?"

Rolling her brown eyes, Francesca gave her an incredulous look. "Even I've seen those pics of you two at the Eiffel Tower"—honestly, (Y/N) didn't even know there were photos of them together then, having deleted her socials the day after the letter was posted to the penthouse—"and walking in here feels less like your penthouse and more like a... nest for you too. You even line your shoes up next to one another."

Taken aback, (Y/N) could feel the way her features screwed up at Fran's remarks. "You're silly, Fran," she said, focusing on the cracker she was loading with cheese.

Francesca shook her head and stood her ground, light amusement curling her lips. "You're lying, and you know it."

"I'm not, though," (Y/N) countered, covering her mouth as she took a bite of the crumbly cracker.

Shrugging, Francesca focused on her own overloaded cracker. "Maybe it's him then," she offered, looking at (Y/N) with that sly curve to her lips, "I don't know, all I'm saying is that the vibes are very different from the last time I saw you—and him. Every time he walks out here, it's like he doesn't even see me. He's only looking at you."

"He's my bodyguard," (Y/N) stated, as if Fran could forget the fact. "He checks on me."

"Checking you out," Francesca emphasized, hiding her teasing smile behind a sip of red wine.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes, trying her best to bite back her laughter. "You're so annoying," she teased, "I should've known you were going to say something stupid like that."

"Whatever," Francesca dismissed, reaching for her phone, "I want to make a post on my Story with you, though. So, pose cute with your wine or something. People are going to go crazy, knowing you're alive outside of blurry pics."

"People think I'm dead?" (Y/N) laughed, sipping from her wine before fluffing her hair.

Fran shook her head, swiping through her camera to find the right preset. "You'd be surprised how man people actually believe grocery store magazines. Even Damien Moore reached out to Toriana to see if she knew where you were, it's so weird."

"Damien?" she blanched, features screwing up at the mention of his name.

"That was my reaction too," Fran shared, waving her phone in her hand, "I was hoping we'd never have to hear from him again after what happened, but obviously he loves drama."

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) couldn't agree more. Definitely the worst of the boys her father tried to set her up with.

When Francesca held her phone up, the camera facing them, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pose. She cradled her glass of wine and got in close to Fran, curling her lips into a warm smile. The buttery lighting of the apartment with the shimmering Paris night leaking in through the windows, (Y/N) felt pretty when she glanced at the reflection.

Over the edge of Fran's phone, she could see Harry stepping out of the hallway, his steps silent. Though she tried not to pay attention, she couldn't help but to notice the way he really didn't allow his eyes to trace anywhere but her, even when they were doing something as innocent as posing for photos.

Even when Francesca lowered her phone and went about prepping the photo for posting, Harry didn't step away too quickly. He lingered, the warmth of his gaze on her.

Surely, he could just be checking on her, noticing how quiet the room became when they started whispering about him and going silent for the photos, but (Y/N) found herself not resenting the other option Francesca presented.

She didn't hate the idea of Harry looking at her just for the sake of looking at her.

Whatever that was supposed to mean for her.

—————

flâner means to wander aimlessly around a city.

a little change of scenery and time together before we get into some more fun stuff! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any thoughts or ideas let me know!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry au #bodyguard harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles au #bodyguard harry styles #love on tour #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #satellite

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strawberri-blonde · 9 months

Text

Making Up For Lost Time - Neteyam

Praise mother @cinetrix 🧎‍♀️for this creation and let’s all thank @amora16447 for this request of a part 2 or otherwise I really wouldn’t have made a part 2 for swaynivi. Hope you enjoy now sit back and relax and enjoy this 7K read. (Can be read at a stand alone)

Summary: after not seeing each other for a week, Neteyam gifts you with a surprise and makes up for lost time.

Warning: PORNNNN WITH A PLOT BABY. oral (f), fingering, dry humping, grinding, overstimulation , sex and a little fluff ( cause I’m a sucker for a soft Neteyam sue me)

Masterlist

"The boy moves down your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses lingering. His mouth just hovers over where you need him the most. 'Don't worry, Y/n. Once I'm done with you, you won't be able to move or even think of leaving this place.'"

Feeling Neteyam's hot breath flush against your skin sent excitement to course through your veins. "So pretty, Y/n." Your back arched off the surface of the swaynivi; you still couldn't get over the fact that Neteyam had crafted this beautiful woven nest just for the two of you. With strong hands, Neteyam lifted your slender legs slightly to throw them over his shoulder to better access your mound. Your loincloth was long gone, exposing your glistening heat to his greedy eyes. "Did I do this, Yawne, or was it from Lo'ak?"

The question threw you off, causing your mind to spin with anticipation. Neteyam's lips had yet to meet the place that craved his touch the most, and just when you thought it couldn't get any more frustrating, he mentioned his brother. But then it hit you. Earlier, in an act of revenge for Neteyam's absence from training, Lo'ak drenched both of you with a bucket of water. He tried to sabotage Neteyam's special gift for you, but nothing could dampen the intensity of this moment. As your hands glided over the silky texture of the swaynivi, you couldn't help but yearn for Neteyam's embrace, hoping to convey just how desperate you were becoming.

"It was you, Ma'Teyam." You moaned out, reaching your hands towards his hair as he pressed open-mouth kisses along the inner of your thighs. "Always gonna be you, baby."

The man's eyes shined with excitement, seeing you grow with need. "That's right syulang." He moaned out, then pressed a kiss to the top of your mound, making you squirm, but Neteyam's huge hands slid from your thighs to your hips, keeping you in place on top of the branch-like structure. The sun shined down onto your sweaty bodies, and you could feel the breeze against your blue bodies. "Always gonna be the one making this pussy wet." Finally, his soft lips pressed a kiss onto your velvet skin.

You gasped out, feeling his kiss on your outer lips which turned into a high pitch whine as he licked straight from the small patch of flesh located just under your opening to flatten his tongue against you entirely, licking a form but sensual lick up towards your clit circling the tip of his tongue against it before sucking down onto the little swollen bud. "Praise Ewya, holyshot." Hearing your broken English, Neteyam couldn't help but lose himself in the sounds of your pleasure. It drove him crazy. He moved his hands from your hips to your legs that were still thrown over his shoulder and pinned them to the nest, putting your legs in the butterfly position, stretching you out, allowing him to completely bury himself deep in your cunt.

Your back couldn't help but arch as the pressure from his tongue was almost too much. Feeling his tongue ravishing your heat was an unworldly experience. The soft textured muscle flickered around your clit, continuously. Your hands reached for his braids, needing to touch him. "Neteyam, it's so good." Once you felt the silky soft braids, you clenched around them. Neteyam's amber eyes locked down onto your own. He pulled away from your mound with a kiss, then held onto his blinding smile.

"I've got you, baby girl." His swollen lips caught your attention, and his face was wet, not from Lo'ak's bucket of water this time. Your slick covers him, from his broad nose to his chin. "Making up for lost time," he says.

Your busy schedules have made it challenging to find intimate moments together. You often wake up and go to sleep alone because Neteyam leaves early and comes home late. But the sweet notes and tiny gifts he leaves for you, along with your efforts to ensure he has food, even if it's cold, keep you connected. Packing him goodies baskets with a heart-stitched cloth you made yourself, filled with his favorite fruits and nuts, shows how much you care for him. It's these thoughtful gestures that strengthen your bond.

Without the constant touch of Neteyam's lips and the warmth of his body against yours, your days feel dull and lacking that spark. Waking up without his arms wrapped around you leaves your heart longing for something important. The nights have been lonely as you wait for him in bed, with your limbs yearning for his touch. While spending time with the other clan women helps keep you occupied, they just can't compare to Neteyam. Your nights are filled with dreams of him, and your mind often wanders to the times your lips were locked together.

"Been so long since I've seen my pretty girl’s pussy. Too long." A loud screech-like moan left your mouth as Neteyam sucked down onto your clit, circling your opening with his pointer finger teasing you.

"Nete, please, I'm almost-" Your words were caught in your throat as his tongue dropped, slurping your juices, and moaning against your heat while kneading your soft skin. His tongue poked at your entrance, making Neteyam moan more from your taste. You were better than anything the man had eaten in his life.

The vibrations from his tongue sent goosebumps to litter your skin. Your hips buckled against his face while your eyes rolled in the back of your head, feeling the familiar hot coil forming in the pit of your stomach.

Your body tensed up, making Neteyam quicken his pace thrusting his tongue deeply within you, smothering himself within your wet cunt to the point where his nose nuzzled your swollen bud. "Teyammm." You dragged on, feeling his wide nose add such delicious press into your clit, sending you to orgasm. Your body arched itself off the floor, tensing through your pleasure's haze. Neteyam, however, wasn’t giving up his tongue swirling. He wanted to drink you dry. Seeing your body convulse on his tongue had him pulling away from your sweet cunt with a winning smile but holding such a scary lustful look in his eyes.

"Was that good, Yawne?" Your body still switched here and there as his hands left your legs to rest while he climbed over your sweaty body to kiss your lips.

A tingle spread through your insides as his open-mouth kisses trailed your hot skin. The sensation and his loving touches filled your heart. His mouth lingered on your cheek, quickly kissing your lips, allowing you to get some juice in your mouth. "Ma'Y/n, I need words."

Your hands flew towards his face, pulling him into a kiss, mumbling against him, "So good, Neteyam." Your mouths moved together intensely in unison before he pulled away to kiss along your jaw. "You always make me feel so good." Your voice sounded strained, but neither of you took notice.

"Not recently," Neteyam confessed, his guilty expression causing you to prop yourself up on your elbows. He pulled away momentarily, only to settle himself back into his rightful place between your legs. His eyes met yours, filled with a mix of longing and anticipation.

"Muntxatan," you reached out to caress his wet cheek, making him lean into your touch. "You've been busy-" Neteyam silences your protests with a passionate kiss filled with lust and passion, pushing you back onto the structure. His lips press firmly against yours, and his tongue forcefully enters your mouth, claiming you as his prize. His hands slide down your sides, then slowly begin to tease you. Your body responds to his touch, your heart beating faster as the blood rushes to your cheeks. You try to pull away, but Neteyam holds you in place. You utterly surrendered to him.

"I should never be too busy for you ever." He pulls away to run his hands through your loose hair. "Without you, I'd be nothing, yawne." He kisses you with the same passion as his hands cupped your boobs in his warm grasp, making you crave his touch again. "When was the last time I'd taken care of my girl? I have to make it up to you." You knew he remembered the last time you were intimate, but he wanted to see you squirm for him, and honestly, who were you to deny your handsome husband?

"7 days." This made Neteyam shake his head in disbelief as if he couldn't believe he hadn't been with you intimately for a week.

"7 days." The warrior mumbles, disappointed with himself. "7 days since I've sunk my cock into that warm cunt." Your breath caught in your throat as his lips caressed your jaw, making his way back down your body, leaving you trembling from need. "7 days since I took care of my girl, but don't worry, yawne; I'll make up for lost time."

Truthfully, you had missed the feel of Neteyam's intimate touch; you longed for his skin, lips, caresses, and breath against your neck. You craved how his fingers gently glide up your thighs, teasing you and building anticipation. Just one touch from him sets your body on fire, making your heart flutter joyfully.

"I've missed you, Teyam." You close your eyes as he kisses your hips while his hands gently part your legs, sliding a finger through your folds and sending shivers down your spine.

"Mmm," he hummed, taking his time kissing every tiny part of your skin, making patterns along your blue strips, nearing where you needed him the most. "Well, good thing we now have a place to make up for lost time." Finally, his middle finger circled your opening before sinking into your wet, warm entrance.

You immediately moaned his name, reaching your hand to your face while the other reached for his touch. The muscles in his arms bulged as his arm wrapped itself under your leg to your extended hand, causing some of his hair strains to fall perfectly in front of his face. The way he didn't even have to try and look good always amazed you.

"Keep looking at me." You didn't mean for the words to escape your lips, but it seemed that they had a mind of their own.

Neteyam's eyes are piercing with a desire to yours as your words tumble out of your mouth. He looks into your bright blue eyes and smiles seductively, and his finger pulls out only to add another to stroke your insides softly. His intense and passionate gaze sends a hot flush across your cheeks. You feel your toes curl and hear a slight moan escape your lips, not knowing where it came from. "You want my attention, baby girl?" Neteyam kissed the skin of your mound continuously, the slow and steady pace of his fingers pumping in and out of your sweet pussy. "Didn't have it for a week, so you don't know how to act?" His words had you tighten your grip on his fingers in your wet walls.

"Just so goddamn handsome." You bellowed, watching as he grinned at your compliment and continued looking at you with his intense, smoldering gaze. He slowly lowers himself back to you, his tongue trailing across your velvet lips in a slow, provocative kiss. His lips meet your skin again, his mouth open as his tongue probes its way into your folds.

Neteyam's hands tighten on yours as his fingers begin to scissor inside your vagina, plunging as far back as his fingertips feel the soft sponge within. Your flesh is warm and wet to his touch, tingling his spine.

The sensation had you tilted your head back against the soft surface of the swaynivi. Neteyam sucked hard on your clit, making you jerk your attention back down towards your husband. His eyes pierced towards you, entirely darkened by lust, only allowing the slightest ring of fire to be seen. "Keep looking at me." He took your words out of your mouth. "Just so goddamn sexy."

"Ma'teyam." You moaned out with loud cries, whimpers, and other embarrassing sounds, but Neteyam's fingers pumped into you, and the work of his flicking tongue on your bud was so intense. Your stomach tensed as heat increased within your walls. "Te- Teyam-yam." Your stutter moan fell through your oval-shaped, open expression. Your eyebrows were bunched together, and you looked dazed as you watched him completely devour you. Noticing how close you were, Neteyam made sure not to change his form pace, only perfecting the hits to your g-spot over and over until. "Ne-"A loud squeal cut you short as another orgasm seemed to rush over your entire body like your nerve’s fireworks.

Your blue eyes glossed over, and your hand was interlocked with his. You tried to squirm away, but his stronghold kept you in place to help you work through your high. His lips continued to caress your sensitive, wet skin as he felt that your orgasm had run its course.

Your skin is covered with sweat, and you still have this achy kind of burning sensation within your clit, but it feels good. He made you feel so good. You didn't move as you watched him slowly climb over your flattened body to press kisses against your hot nipples, mended with the heat of his mouth.

"Teyam." You squeal, feeling the sensation, especially since you have just come off your second high for the evening. He chuckled against your skin, sending vibrations against your breast, causing you to gasp breathlessly. "Too sensitive." Neteyam's lips slipped off you with a pop, instantly bringing his eyes back in yours, searching for your attention to check for reassurance.

As you and Neteyam shared a tender moment, he gently sucked off the juices from his fingers before caressing your face. Your eyes, still droopy, revealed the aftermath of your shared intimacy. However, what truly made Neteyam's heart swell was the silly grin that adorned your sweet lips. His love for you was evident as he chuckled, feeling intoxicated by your sweet taste. Neteyam's tender lips pressed against the corners of your lips, his nose playfully nudging against yours. "You still with me, muntxate?" He whispered making you let out soft giggles.

"You make me feel so good." Your voice was a soft, cheeky whisper.

Neteyam kisses you softly, he looks down at you and smiles. His hands caress your arms, and he strokes your hair gently. Neteyam looks into your eyes and gazes at you with love and affection. He then kisses you softly, filling you with passion and desire. This is exactly what you need: his warm, comforting, sensual embrace. He takes your breath away, and you don't want to let him go. You are his, and he is yours.

You feel him nimble on your bottom lip, accidentally grinding his painfully hard cock against your sweaty skin. His loincloth was still on, keeping his dick from springing to action. You moan, feeling the familiar bulge and wanting to see it. "Neteyam," you whimpered against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck, and wiggling your hips, trying to feel his clothed cock against your pussy.

Neteyam pulls away from the passionate kiss and trails a couple of soft caresses up your neck and to your ear. "Still not ready to stop?" He slowly rocked his hips back into yours, allowing him to feel that friction. He wanted to rip his loincloth off and fuck into you so bad, but he was on a mission to make up for lost time.

"Neteyam, I want you inside of me so bad." You growl out to your mate. Making him smile down at you, then gently tap your jaw with a finger.

"Relax, and let me explore your body some more." He whispers seductively into your ear, and you shiver as your body responds to his touch and the way his hips rocked against your own.

Neteyam then kisses your neck, slowly down to your chest. As the warm breeze drifts over your skin, he takes a moment to admire your exposed flesh before slowly gliding his lips and tongue across your sensitive skin. He pulls back slightly and meets your gaze, with a smile of satisfaction on his face as he watches you take in the sensation of his touch.

"Gotta be the luckiest warrior ever to have you be my mate, Y/n. So pretty." His praises did more work, riling you back up more than you expected. But Neteyam's words always made you feel incredible.

"Oh, Teyam." Your breaths come in quick, like shallow gasps as his lips explore your body more intimately. His tongue teases over your breasts, and his lips gently nibble your skin. He slowly sucks on your sensitive spots, caressing your body with firm yet gentle hands. He takes his time, thoroughly enjoying every inch of your beautiful body as he moves slowly down your curves. His kisses get hungrier, more passionate.

"Oh my," you gasped as his tongue licked up from the bottom of your breast to latch himself onto your left nipple. The most sensitive one. Exotic sounds or some form of Neteyam's name was all you could muster out from the pleasure, then to add fire to the fiery, his cock was grinding in all the right spots on your very sensitive mound.

"Teyam, please." He moaned against you, sending shockwaves through your body toward your heat, which paralyzed you due to the sensation. "Cock-" words choked from your lips as his thrust became quicker, harder.

Neteyam was fighting so hard not to cum as he looked up at you with your eyes rolled in the back of your head with your teeth biting your now swollen lips. His hand flew towards your hips and started to add more grinding force feeling a little precum cover the inside of his loincloth while the exterior was all soaked due to your wet pussy. She was swollen and sensitive but greedy after not having her man for so long, willing to take anything Neteyam was doing to her, especially if that meant coming again.

Between his tongue latching into your nip, flickering in a fast motion, and his dick gliding against your clit, darkness covered your vision as fire spread through you. Every nerve in your body tingles with pleasure, sending goosebumps down from another high. Neteyam slammed his hips against yours abruptly stalling his motions to keep himself from coming, almost like he was punishing himself from pleasure.

His lips pulled away from you. "Good girl, yawne. You did amazing for me. Can't get over how blessed I am." He whispers sweet praises, staring down at your closed eyes, just waiting to get a glimpse of those blue eyes.

As he tenderly brushed away the strands of hair from your face, a mix of sweat and anticipation filled the air. You slowly opened your eyes with a mischievous grin, meeting his gaze. Blushing, your body still tingling from his touch, you couldn't help but playfully tease him. "I should be saying 'blessed,'" you chuckled, leaning closer. Gently kissing his lips, you whispered seductively, "If you were a god, I would definitely be worshiping you right now."

Neteyam grins and gently places his fingers on your chin, lifting it so you are forced to look back at him. He brings his face closer, and his lips meet yours again in a fierce and passionate kiss. There is no holding back; all there is desire and pure want. You can taste his lust as it flows over your tongue. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest as it thuds against yours. You are drowning in his touch, your body trembling with pleasure.

Your mound felt sore, but your walls ached for a different reason. They needed him; more specifically, they needed the girth between his legs, which always seemed to ease the pain. "Neteyam." Hearing you mumble his name against his lips, the warrior pulled away to stare back into your ocean eyes.

"Yes, Yawne?" Neteyam asks, his eyes filled with desire as he watches your lips move against his. You want him. You need him. Your voice sounds distant as if it's coming from another place, another time. You can feel your body wanting him and your heart needing him. You are lost, lost in Neteyam and his touch.

"I want your cock." Seeing the mischievous sprinkle in his eyes, you couldn't stop rambling. "Like I want your cock Teyam. I've been such a good girl, haven't I been? Just like…" You're a mess from his touch and couldn’t get enough of him. "Just fuck me already."

Neteyam let a cursed moan escape his lips upon hearing those sinful words. Your words instantly flush his face with passion, and he bites his lips in an attempt to hold back his emotions. "You've been so good, baby. My perfect girl." He looks down at you momentarily before leaning down and kissing you passionately, running his fingers through your long hair. Your hands ran down his back until they reached over towards his loincloths, loosing it for him, making him chuckle into the heated kiss. "Wanted to make it up for you, yawne." If you weren't so fucked out, you would swoon over his words, but you felt almost animalistic for this man.

Your sweaty hands yanked onto the material, clawing at his skin, until you pulled it down the curve of his toned ass. Before Neteyam could process, he felt your tiny hand palm at his butt, then felt your right hand grip the base of his tail immediately, causing him to thrust into you. "Didn't know you wanted it that bad, Y/n?" You let out a playful whine, causing him to chuckle, and you couldn't help but join in, laughing along with him.

"Neteyam, please stop making me beg." Your mate's eyes widen, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pulling away from your body to sit on the back of his legs. Your eyes instantly trailed down his handsome face to reach his broad shoulders. Your eyes trailed down his sculpted chest to his toned abs, taking him in and making your mouth water. However, as your eyes followed down his lean build, you stopped once you landed on his still-covered cock.

The navy-blue material hung loose off his erect penis. And the way it seemed to drape over the considerable bulge had your hands squeezing from anticipation. Your mouth watering just thinking of it. Neteyam couldn't help but let a smirk appear as he looked at your hungry gaze. "If you stare any longer, you'll burn a hole through the fabric."

You wiggle your hips while reaching toward the cloth. "What if I wanted that to happen." You grabbed onto the silk material, slowly pulling it away, and watched with widened eyes. Once the material left his member, his dick bounced in the air, practically screaming for attention. "Oh, Eywa."

His once soft purplish/pink tip is now a hot pink, and the blue base of his cock looked rock solid with veins running along the length. It looks so painfully that you swear you can see the veins pulsing even from your position with your back on the floor of the swaynivi. "Neteyam, I need it."

Your hand reached out to grab his swollen tip seeing his pre-cum glisten in the sunshine. As your fingertips barely graze the skin, Neteyam gently pushed you away from him, taking himself in hand to slip his coated tip against your sensitive cunt. Your legs squirmed at the sensation, and your hands flew to your face.

"Does this feel good, my pretty girl?" He lays his neglected throbbing cock between your folds, rolling his hip at an experimental pace causing whimpers to escape both of your mouths.

"Neteyam." You could only muster out his name as he found his rhythm between your velvet lips. Your slick covered his member, making it easy for him to slide up and down onto your clit. You were so sensitive that your body started shaking from the pleasure.

The way your breast jiggled with his thrust Neteyam was losing his composure. One hand left your hip to guide the tip of his cock towards your gaping hole, sinking just his tip in before pulling back to run it back to your bud. "Put it in." You whined, feeling his tip tease you back and forth. Neteyam fused his nonexistent eyebrows, causing a crinkle on the top of his nose. He was concentrating.

Neteyam slapped his tip against your bud again, having you arch off the floor. "Yawne, I think you can give me one more, then I'll stuff you full to the rim." Immediately you groaned in despair, anger, and pleasure all in one. "Oh, don't be like that after I've given you three orgasms, my flower." Your arms felt shaky as you tried to sit up, but Neteyam immediately shut that down by placing a hand on your chest. He knew you were getting antsy and loved every frustrated groan leaving your lips. "Just one more, yawne, and I promise you'll have me. I just need you to cum again for me, baby girl." Meanwhile, this is happening. Neteyam never stopped running his tip through and over your folds.

Your body jerked and spasmed as his hips rotated into you, hitting all the right angles against your sensitive area. Your eyes closed, taking in the pleasure of his hard cock humping against your clit, creating delicious friction. "So pretty Yawne." Your heart pounds in your chest as it doesn't take long for you to feel that hot tension within you again for the fourth time tonight.

Hearing those sweet moans escape your lips, Neteyam's senses were overrun with desire. The way your soft wet skin felt against his member had him leaking pre-cum all over your sweet folds. With the amount of slick forming from you both, you could feel it drip down your cheeks to pool around your tail to leak in the smooth structure of the hand-crafted nest. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hand slipped towards your breast fumbling them in his hand while thrusting his tip over your swollen clit.

Your curses mixed with his name echoed through the air as your body reacted to the intense build-up within you. With a sudden jolt, your vivid blue eyes burst open, locking onto Neteyam's captivating presence. His braids danced before his face, while the glistening sweat on his body created a halo of sunlight, casting him in a godly light. And oh, those eyes of his, dark and primal, seemed to pierce your very soul. He looked absolutely irresistible, and the sight of him pushed you beyond the edge of control. It was a moment of raw desire and primal attraction.

"Teyam." You manage to moan out, feeling the intensity of the orgasm wash over you and blur your vision. Your skin felt like it was on fire. There was a buildup of tension in your abdomen that arches your back and curls your toes, almost like a clenching feeling.

Without warning, Neteyam trailed the tip of his cock down from your clit, to your opening, ramming himself in your warm and wet hole. A broken loud moan escaped your lips, causing birds to fly out of the enormous tree.

“Fucking shit," Neteyam moaned and grabbed your legs to wrap them around his waist, wasting no time jackhammering inside your overstimulated clenched walls. You were unbelievably tight, squeezing his member as you were settling from your high, but the way Neteyam positioned your hips, lifting them up to meet his thrust, your eyes rolled in the back of your head from the sensation.

Neteyam was completely lost in you, his murmurs filled with the sheer pleasure of your touch. By denying himself earlier, he had built up an exquisite anticipation that only intensified the ecstasy between you. It was as if the very essence of your connection ignited a passionate fire, reminiscent of the heat that consumes both of you.

Your gummy walls bared down onto him, suffocating his thick cock, but that only made his thrust harder, more profound. His hips were mercilessly pounding into you, hitting your cervix, making your mouth widen as if a scream was sprouting from your lungs, but your body had completely shut down with pleasure. Between the multiple orgasms and how Neteyam continued to make you feel, your body took over, letting your mind fall back a little.

Seeing your closed eyes and open mouth, Neteyam immediately leaned down, not stopping his pace to cover your mouth with his in a heated kiss. Your body instantly responded as your swollen lips mended with your mates. Neteyam grunted and groaned into your mouth, making you pant out.

"My pretty girl." The warrior moaned against your lips, pulling away with a nimble to your bottom lip, then rested his forehead against yours, looking down at you as he bent your legs into your chest wall, also widening your thighs, giving him more leverage to the warm tight center. Your hands flew to his back surly, leaving scratch marks on his beautiful blue skin. "Pussy's always so tight." Your mind was fog, only taking in his praises, not having the energy to respond, feeling the tender, incredible sensation of his cock thrusting into you, hitting all your sensitive spots. "I love this pussy. I love you." his hand flew toward your nipple, pinching the skin and making your vocal cords come alive. Your throat hurt from your screams of pleasure, but it didn't matter as your body started to convulse.

Neteyam bit his lip, trying to contain his pathetic whimpers, but they were no match to the feeling of you clenching down on his cock. He knew you were close, and even more embarrassingly, Neteyam felt like he was going to cum soon too. His lips sloppily kissed over the skin as his nimble fingers twirled the soft bundle of nerves of your nipple in his grasp, which caused you to clench around him while holding onto his body for dear life. "Nete-" you manage to squeal as you reach another orgasm.

"Fuck, baby, I'm-” Neteyam’s thrusts became sloppy as his own orgasm reached its highest peak chasing after yours. His face scrunched together, and his hands left your nipples to place them on the flooring beside your head, locking you in his embrace. Pants escaped his lips as his seed painted by your walls, claiming you to him.

Your body ached, but it was a good pain. You didn't move your arms from around him as you attempted to catch your breath. Neteyam felt your shaky body against his and pressed kisses along your face before grabbing his queue to bring it over his shoulder. He needed to feel your emotions to be one with you. "Muntxate." His words vibrated against your cheek, but your mind was still dazed over from the constant highs. "Tsaheylu?" Without saying anything, you reached for your long braid, but Neteyam stopped you with a kiss to grab it for you.

"Need to be one with you." You didn't need him to explain himself. You never needed him to explain himself when it came to Tsaheylu.

"Please.” You watched in awe as Neteyam skillfully brought the ends of the braids together, and the swirling pink tendrils eagerly intertwined as if they were longing for connection.

Once, the nerve endings met frantically intertwined with one another. Neteyam's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he felt the hot, tiresome tension within his soul. He could feel the pleasure pumping through your veins and the amount of love radiating between you. He couldn't help bucking his hips into your warm, used hole.

Your body tingles with sensations as the adrenaline still rushes through your blood. You feel closer to Neteyam than before, as the intimate moment has strengthened your bond. You feel deeply grateful for his affection and want to be close to him physically and emotionally.

"My good girl." Neteyam began to praise you as his mind swirled with your emotions being consumed with you entirely. Even with sweat covering your entire body, you still manage to smell like the sweetest flower, and let's not forget the whimpers escaping your lips, it all had him runt into your unmercifully. You were so tired that you couldn't do anything but cling to him, letting him use you to his demise. Your pussy felt raw as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly but curse him for hitting all the right spots. "You're so tight. How are you still tight." You had no idea because your hole felt stretched from his size.

It seemed that the longer he was inside you, the more he grew despite just coming minutes earlier. Feeling him through the bond and how good you made him feel, your legs shook, making Neteyam swiftly lay your left leg down, and while he was still buried so deep inside you, he lifted your right leg over his body to flip you on your side.

You thought you could've come again from the way his dick twisted inside of your guts, and his sounds alone have you squeezing around him letting out a whine that ended with a hiss from the stinging of your sensitive mound. "Teyam." You moaned out as he settled behind you, leaving sloppy kisses everywhere on your skin. The forest air was hot, and the moment's intensity didn't help the tension, making your bodies feel like they were on fire.

His lower hand was behind your back, helping him lean over you slightly, causing you to position yourself more on your stomach but still mainly on your side. His right hand lifted your leg towards your stomach, resting it there for a moment but finding that it caused his thrusts to become sloppy. So Neteyam grabbed onto your hip, adding a few more forceful thrusts to make up for the fact that he was going to cum again soon.

Your walls squeezed around his cock as his hand slipped from your waist towards your breast. Your body shook as your whole body tensed, including your pulsing walls. Neteyam spewed praises out his mouth as he spilled himself inside with a loud moan. “Fuck, Y/n.” Feeling Neteyam fill your hole and the pleasure he was experiencing through Tsaheylu immediately transferred through every fiber of your soul. “So fucking good.” Your vision blackened, and your body collapsed against the floor of the swaynivi as you both let the high course through your bodies.

Neteyam could feel the exhaustion from your body, so he pressed kisses to the back of your head, feeling himself soften inside your warm embrace. Slowly he pulled out of you, instantly causing you to whine, feeling so empty. "Shh yawne." Your mate hummed as he helped you onto your back, making you feel the combined juices spill from your opening, running down towards your butt towards your tail. “We made such a mess.”

You couldn’t even hum out a response from how tired you were. Neteyam had put your body through a workout, making you have multiple orgasms within one night, and you loved every second of it. Your eyelids were heavy, allowing you to open them for a split second before closing them again. “You tired, baby?” Neteyam didn’t have to ask. He could feel how exhausted you were through the bond, and he didn’t know if he was proud of himself or hated that he made you like this.

His worry and pride enveloped you, prompting your eyes to flutter open, curiosity guiding your gaze towards him. "You took such good care of me," you whispered, confessing your gratitude. Neteyam's face lit up with a radiant grin, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. Leaning down, he tenderly pressed a kiss to your damp forehead, a gesture filled with love and affection.

“You deserve the best, yawne, but stay awake for a little while longer. Let me clean you up and feed you.” Your eyes dropped again, satisfied with his answer, and you felt him move away from you causing the swaynivi to sway from the movement. His hands caressed your smooth skin as he pulled himself back towards your messy heat. “Poor girl took so much. Let me clean you up.” You couldn’t process his words, still a little cockdrunk and overwhelmed from the constant stimulation that you didn’t notice him setting himself between your legs. Your mind was in a haze until you let a clear lick at your folds.

Your body jerked from the motion, clearly still sensitive over the multiple orgasms, but Neteyam’s hands gripped your hips, keeping you in place. “Nete too sensitive.” You whined out as he continued to lick you clean of the mix of juices.

“Last time yawne, just cleaning my girl up, that’s all.” If you weren’t so fucked out, you could hear the malicious tone in his voice.

He buried himself deep within your cunt, swirling his tip over your opening and dropping his tongue to your butthole, collecting the juices, and making you reach your hand down to push him away, but Neteyam was strong. Your delicate hands pawing at his scalp did nothing but make him quicken his pace lapping up the combined taste of the two of you, and he couldn’t help but moan. You taste amazing together.

Having him moan around your mound sent chills down your spine. “Neteyam, I can’t.” Your eyes couldn’t even open from the sensation of his tongue swirling around your opening to flickering your clit. “Please, I’m too sensitive.”

Your hand reaches down your queue to grasp the connecting point of your bond, squeezing down as a silent scream sprung from your lips. His lips sucked down on your entire mound like he was a starved animal. “Teyam.” You barely managed to mumble out his name as his tongue lapped you up as your last high washed over you for the night.

Neteyam gave your velvet lips one final, tender kiss before reaching for the long-forgotten fruit basket he had prepared just for you. It was his way of reciprocating the thoughtful goodie baskets you had been making for him during his busy week. As he reached for the basket, a wave of euphoria washed over your body, rendering you momentarily immobility. Sensing your need, Neteyam swiftly grabbed the water poof leaf-canteen and opened the top to quench your thirst. His large hands lovingly caressed your flushed face, his silly smile and crinkled eyes showing his affection.

“Yawne, I’m so sorry did I go too rough? Just wanted to make up for lost time,” Neteyam apologized. He definitely succeeded in bringing you to new heights of pleasure. Skillfully, his fingers moved from behind your head to your neck, providing a comforting embrace after a passionate night. "Open your mouth," he softly instructed, catching your attention. As you slowly opened your eyes, you felt the smooth texture of the canteen and the refreshing coldness of the water.

Once your dark vision met the lightness of the sky, nothing could compare to the first gaze of those amber eyes you loved so dearly. “There’s my girl.” You clenched your legs together; from the throbbing pain of the your vagina; and his praises didn’t help.

The cool breeze from Pandora brushed against your glistening skin as the water quenched your parched throat. A contented moan escaped your lips, instantly revitalizing your body. Neteyam's worries melted away as he saw your consciousness returning. "Y/n, my love, you were incredible for me," he expressed with admiration. As you finished drinking, you returned the water to Neteyam, who placed it back in a basket resembling the ones you made for him. The heartfelt gesture filled your heart with warmth.

Neteyam gently slid the woven basket closer, offering you some berries. "Eat it," he murmured softly. Without hesitation, you found the strength to chew on the sweet fruit, earning a tender kiss on your forehead from Neteyam. "You're doing so well, yawne.” You hummed, savoring his touch, you closed your eyes, needing a rest after your passionate encounter. "But you never answered my question?" he reminded, curious for your response.

You hummed, nodding your head, but Neteyam wasn't satisfied. He wanted to make sure you were okay and investigate your face. He gently held your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes were soft, your breathing still rapid from the intense release, but they also had a twinkle in them. "Was it too much for you, baby girl?" he whispered softly, concerned for your well-being.

Your heart fills with love and affection for Neteyam as you know he deeply cares for you. Looking into his eyes, you see the same contentment, satisfaction, and peace reflected back at you. You gently take his hand and bring it to your lips with a smile, showering kisses along his skin. "Neteyam, it was incredible. You are truly amazing," you cooed, causing the warrior to blush. "I mean every word," you whispered, feeling your eyes betray you as exhaustion washed over your body. "Not only did you create this beautiful swaynivi for me, but you also gave me multiple mind-blowing orgasms. And now you're feeding me as I fall asleep." Neteyam chuckled and planted a kiss on your unruly hair, cherishing the moment.

"It was actually 7 times," he whispered, making your heart race, realizing how much pleasure Neteyam had brought you. Your body was exhausted, and though you wanted to speak, you found comfort in snuggling closer to him, drifting off to sleep to the sound of Neteyam's murmurs. "Just wanted to make up for lost time," he whispered, his words lulling you into a peaceful slumber.'?

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manias-wordcount · 9 months

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I'm surprised i haven't seen this more often, but I just love the idea of Loid Forger being in love with someone else while still married to Yor. I mean the whole idea that he didn't have a choice in the matter, and then falling for someone else after he and Yor "get together" has so much room for angsty sexual tension and i've always wanted to see how it could be handled.

Tell No One (Loid Forger x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘂𝗵𝗵𝗵𝗵 𝗶 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Yor likes your cakes. Anya likes your cookies. He likes your smile. It gives him the perfect excuse to visit your bakery twice a week.

“Hi, Mr. Forger! Welcome back! The usual?”

It gives him the perfect excuse to visit you.

“Hi there!” He greets with a nod and a practiced smile. He’s gotten good at playing Loid Forger. But for him, it’s just another disguise in a long list of faces and names he has taken on for himself. And you? You’re just another person he uses to secure his role on the stage. Something that keeps him from breaking the so-carefully crafted illusion. So he tries not to dwell on how your own customer service smile turns shy, and your eyes turn away from his at the sight of his a little too genuine smile. He tries not to dwell on it all. Instead, he tries to think about work. About Anya. About Yor. “How’s the shop? Anything happens since the last time I was here?”

He tries to think about anyone but you.

But it’s hard- it’s hard because there you go letting out a soft giggle as a memory comes bubbling up from the back of your mind. A pretty little sound he could listen to for hours. But when you start back to talking- talking about the crazy run order that you just barely finished this morning for a couple whose baker got sick the night before the wedding- he finds that he could listen to this voice of yours every single day of his life if he had the chance. And it’s not a new discovery. It’s not a new thought. The same way the little spark he swears he feels when your fingers brush against his as you take his money- always exact change- from his hands is not a new occurrence. He’ll tell no one, but he knows. He knows it’s not new. It’s never new.

So why does every time he comes to see you feel like the first time he fell for you?

He tried not to think of you. He tries not to think of you. But the day he stumbled on your bakery tucked in a random hole in the wall and down a couple of stairs on a pathway that was just barely out of his way home from the hospital, he was hooked. The second he opened the doors to a homely little shop and smelt that delicious smell of freshly baked goods, he was interested. But from the moment he saw you, he was gone.

Twilight had developed a weakness. For the first since before he could remember. And that weakness just so happened to solidify Loid Forger. And that weakness just so happened to be you.

So his excuse was peanut butter cookies for Anya. They were the perfect tool to help her study after all, and she gobbled them up like a madwoman whenever she had the chance. And when he found out that you did seasonal cheesecakes, his excuse included picking up a slice of something sweet for Yor too. Because a husband that come back with all kinds of sweets and treats for his daughter and his wife was a good husband. And that’s what Loid tries to be. A good husband.

But on visit eleven, you had shyly told him that you wear your grandmother’s wedding ring around your finger because when you’re twenty-six and unmarried, the government tends to not like you. He tries to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. That nobody would ever accuse someone as sweet as you of anything that would get you on the government’s radar. And immediately, he watched you grow flustered at his compliments. You even let him taste a traditional dessert from Hugaria you just learned how to bake the week prior as a thank you.

But all he could think about as your hands held up the pastry for him to take in his own, his mind could only think about that wedding ring sitting on your finger. And how a real husband would give you more protection than just a dainty old ring. How he would give you more protection. More love. More of anything you ever wanted. More of anything you ever asked for.

Loid would take care of you. But Twilight? Twilight would marry you. Twilight would love you. And the fact that it’s so evident to him that he can no longer deny means that the most dangerous person in all of Ostania always manages to have a smile on your face flour lost somewhere in his hair. You make him as weak as you do strong. And that’s dangerous. That puts the whole mission in jeopardy. That puts you in jeopardy. And you don’t even realize it. You don’t.

So he tries not to think about you. He swears on his life, he tries, he tries, he tries. He tries not to when he’s working at the hospital or out on the field saving lives. He tries not to when he’s passing by your shop in a rush to make it home. He tries to when he’s at home with his pretend family playing the perfect father and husband and man all wrapped up into one. He tries so hard not to.

But yet, he finds himself coming back more often than he should. And he’ll tell everyone that it’s because you sell those peanut butter cookies that Anya loves. He’ll tell everyone that it’s because he loves the way Yor’s face lights up when he presents her with one of your delicious cheesecakes. And he’ll tell no one that he visits to catch a glimpse of the delicate curves of your body as you bend down to pluck an item from the display case. He’ll tell no one that he visits to memorize every feature of your face and picture it as a memory of what he’s fighting for.

And he’ll tell no one that he visits to hear your voice and imagine all the sounds you would make when he finally had the chance to take care of you like a real man should. He’ll tell no one. Absolutely no one.

Just like you’ll tell no one of all the times he’s pulled you to the back of the bakery and kissed you.

#loid forger #loid forger x reader #spy x family #spy x family x reader #spy x family fanfic #spy x family fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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yanwriter-archive · 11 months

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Yandere Keegan; prompt 47

“Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s... just say I’m madly in love with you.”

Warnings; Yandere/Obsessive love, Stalker Keegan, Mention of gore, unwanted kiss

The tense air was suffocating but couldn't breathe out the breath you'd been holding.

The man in front of you appeared to be just as frozen as you, his body twitching to find the right words to say. He almost looked meek, which was unbefitting of a man who had just beaten another man to the brink of death.

"You... weren't supposed to see this."

As you looked at the man who laid on the floor, you recognized him as the overly drunk and friendly man who had been at the bar earlier. He had been telling you poorly crafted pick-up lines, and it was clear he had a few drinks too many. In the middle of his drunken spew, he stumbled, grabbing your lower side to balance himself. Having had enough, you pushed him and kindly told him off. He took it decently, apologized, and made his way away from you. You had chalked it up to a stupid, dazed man and forgotten about it. You ended up leaving shortly after. "Keegan... What the hell happened?" You questioned, trying to think of what justified this. Had the man picked a fight? Or had he ended up harassing someone else?

"Sorry."

Sorry? Why was he apologizing to you instead of the man who lay bloody just a few inches away? You trusted Keegan, but what the fuck did he do?

"He shouldn't have touched you." He stepped closer. You took a step back. "No," He shook his head, "He shouldn't have even talked to you."

You took another step back. He did this because of what happened? It wasn't a huge deal, and you had forgotten about it up until now.

But now, seeing him on the ground, you realized just how messed up this situation is. Keegan had taken it upon himself to teach the man a lesson for daring to touch you. You felt the guilt build up. He hadn't meant to touch you, and even if he had, Keegan had gone too far. The few scattered teeth across the floor proved that.

"Why the hell would you do this? He was drunk, and he didn't mean to!" You panicked, glancing around, trying to find someone, anybody to help. "We need to help him! We have to call an ambulance!" You glanced back to the man, who groaned slowly.

"He's fine. I didn't do anything that won't heal." He continued to get closer to you. "It doesn't matter, he deserved this." He glanced over to him, hatred in his voice, "Scum." He grabbed your arm and stroked it, trying to calm you down. "I really didn't mean for you to see this."

"You're crazy!" You cried out, yanking your arm away.

“Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s... just say I’m madly in love with you.” He grabbed you again, pulling you close in a forceful hug. "I'll do anything to protect you."

He looked into your eyes, almost as a plea to listen and understand why he did it.

You couldn't keep his gaze, opting to look at the man again.

"Damn it, Kid." He yanked your chin to make you match his eyes again. "Stop fucking looking at other men and pay attention to me!"

Where was the Keegan you knew? Who was this monster baring his face?

"Look at me. Fuck, look at me! Let me take care of you, let me protect you!" He looked pitiful almost. "I swear, I promise that I can give you everything you ever wanted!"

You stared in terror.

He leaned in. "God." He sighed. "I love you." He placed his lips on yours in a soft and warm kiss you wouldn't have expected from a man who had splattered another person's blood across the wall not even an hour earlier.

"You have no idea how much I love you."

You didn’t think you wanted to.

#yandere #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #Yandere Keegan #keegan russ #call of duty x reader #yandere x reader

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

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Break the Tension [Chapter Two: "The Rehearsal Dinner"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and series chapter list can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: So this fic won the poll for which one I'll update today! I also feel like this part really sets the tone for this series... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705 @pazii @paracosmic-murdock @xxdrixx

It had been years since Matt had last been around you. Graduation day at Columbia, to be exact. And yet from the moment you'd stepped into Fairfield Manor and made your way down the hallway towards him with Marci at your side, he'd known one thing remained true.

You still drove him absolutely crazy.

Though not in the way you'd probably always thought. Matt truthfully never meant to be the way he was with you–harsh and teasing–but for some reason every time he got the taste of your pheromones on his tongue, his sexual frustration came out in the sharp way he spoke to you. He figured it was a sort of defense mechanism, one he hadn't initially meant to implement. Especially since it made him feel like a ridiculous school boy pulling his crush's ponytail because he couldn't just use his words.

Matt had picked up on your physical attraction to him from the very first day you both had met in the lecture for Critical Legal Thought. And back then, he'd always been terrified that if he flirted with you–even just a little bit–and you became the least bit aroused around him, he'd lose his mind completely. He didn't think he could handle the smell of your arousal mingled with your natural pheromones, not without pathetically throwing himself at you in Columbia's hallways. So he'd been crass and rude instead, still craving your attention but unable to handle you being further attracted to him. But to his surprise, you always held your own against him, which somehow only made you more attractive to him.

But for some damn reason when you'd shown up tonight, he'd found himself initially torn between wanting to keep you at a distance and wanting to finally have you. Admittedly he'd forgotten just how good you always smelled because no one else ever had quite the same effect on him. It was like your particular pheromones were crafted specifically to drive him wild.

You were Matt’s weakness and he so desperately wanted to be yours.

Earlier tonight, back at the venue for the rehearsal for tomorrow's ceremony, things had gone fairly uneventful after the initial interaction Matt’d had with you. Though he had noticed the way you'd reacted to his fingers barely grazing you below the hem of your dress. He had reveled in the way your skin had prickled with goosebumps, your heart accelerating in your chest as your face heated. His cock had stirred awake in his dress pants almost immediately, the faintest hint of your arousal hitting his nose and then his tongue. Your response had shown him that you still found him attractive, possibly even more than he remembered you being back in college, even if you still seemed incredibly annoyed by his presence.

But Matt didn’t care about that. He’d find a way to change your opinion of him this weekend, at least enough so that his presence didn’t frustrate you. Because knowing you still found him attractive after he’d gotten a taste of your pheromones once more ultimately had him deciding that he was going to pursue you over the course of the wedding weekend– relentlessly . Matt refused to end the weekend without ever having a taste of you. Without ever hearing the soft, breathy moans he always imagined you'd make when he dove between your thighs. Without feeling all the soft, sweet lines of your body beneath his fingers– and his tongue. Without burying himself deep inside of you, fucking you so tenaciously that you could barely hold onto him, clawing at him as your your smart mouth moaned his name instead of cursing it for once.

Fuck. If he kept thinking like this he'd be needing to excuse himself to the bathroom just to take care of himself in one of the stalls.

Shifting under the table, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable strain of his dress pants against himself, he attempted to focus on his dinner. On either side of him sat Foggy’s brother along with a few of Foggy’s cousins that were also members of the bridal party, but directly across the table from him was you. And the scent of your perfume mixing with your pheromones wasn't helping his situation right now.

For most of the rehearsal dinner you'd been focused on your own food shortly after everyone had been seated and served. Though you’d chatted with the bridesmaids around you until Marci and Foggy’s parents had given their toasts before the meal. Oddly enough you didn't seem as conversational as he usually remembered you being tonight. Instead, you'd kept your head ducked over your plate, eating your food and occasionally responding to comments.

Frustrated because you’d stayed true to your earlier words, not making conversation with him anymore than you had to, Matt's foot slid forward underneath the table. He knew this would probably irritate you further with him, but he also didn’t know how else to catch your attention. Anytime he’d tried to start a conversation with you this evening, you’d answered in clipped replies, quickly pulling others around you into the conversation when possible so you wouldn't have to converse solely with him.

He noticed your foot tapping anxiously in your heels as he slid his dress shoe forward until it finally bumped against yours. Across the table you stiffened in your seat, your foot halting its movements instantly. Bringing his fork to his mouth, he slipped the bit of steak between his lips as his head rose, his covered gaze focusing on you as he chewed. He could hear the tension growing in your muscles as your head rose marginally from the table, probably looking at him from across it and wondering if that had been an accident. Seconds later your foot slid a few inches backwards from his and resumed its anxious tapping.

Swallowing down the bite of food, Matt’s resolve didn’t disappear. He cut off another piece of his steak, spearing it with his fork and slowly drawing it up to his mouth. At the same time, he slid his foot forward again, bumping his into yours for a second time. This time he heard the way your hand tightened around your fork, your head rising up fully as you looked at him from across the table. He sent you a smirk before he took another bite from his fork.

“Goddamit, Murdock,” he heard you mutter under your breath.

His smirk only grew wider as he chewed, his focus on you while the rest of the table remained oblivious to the silent interaction. Though in that moment, Matt would’ve given anything to hear you moaning out his first name instead while he felt your cunt tightening around his cock.

Entering your room in an irritated huff, you closed and locked the door behind yourself. For a few minutes all you could do was pace the room in frustration, walking back and forth as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Matt had gotten under your skin and you hadn’t even been here a full day yet. And tonight Marci and Foggy were having a fire out in the courtyard for anyone who wanted to join them for the evening. You’d wanted to go, hoping to catch up with some of the girls you’d met through Marci and become friends with over the years, but the thought of running into Matt and dealing with his strange and annoying flirtatious teasing had you considering staying in tonight.

You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He must’ve heard from someone after graduation that you’d once drunkenly called him attractive and he was now trying to make you admit it. Either that or he’d found out and figured it would be funny to tease you because of it, to make you think that you could ever draw his attention. Either way, you weren’t thrilled with his unwelcome flirting.

But that weird game of footsie he was trying to rope you into at dinner had been so odd. It was almost as if he knew how much it was making you mad. Which was strange considering he couldn’t see your reaction each time he touched his foot to yours.

With a sigh you told yourself you needed to stop thinking about Matt for the evening. You’d just stay in your room, clean off your face, and maybe get to bed early. That way you’d be rested for tomorrow. Admittedly the couple of glasses of wine from dinner were making you a little tired, anyway.

Heading back towards your bed, you picked up the clutch purse you’d brought with you to the restaurant. Opening it up, you reached inside for your phone, but your fingertips only brushed along your lipstick, your ID, and your debit card. Panic shooting through you, you opened the clutch wider and peered inside. Your phone wasn’t there.

A surge of fear raced through you as you tried to recall when you’d last had it. You know you’d used it at the rehearsal dinner tonight, but you could’ve sworn that you had put it back into your purse before you’d left. With a groan you realized you must have left it somewhere at the restaurant, which meant you were now going to have to borrow someone’s phone to call a ride back there just to pick it up.

“Great,” you grumbled to yourself.

Two brisk knocks at your bedroom door startled you, causing you to jump on the spot as the sound broke through your thoughts. Turning, you made your way over towards the door, wondering who it could be and also hoping they had a phone you could borrow. But when you unlocked and opened the door, you were vexed to see Matt standing there in the hallway. That stupid smirk was on his mouth again, too.

"What the hell do you want, Murdock?" you ground out. "I'm sort of in the middle of something right now."

"Oh?" he asked, his brows rising up high over his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you," you answered.

Peering around him in the hall, you searched for signs of anyone else you could ask to borrow a phone from. Unfortunately the hall was entirely empty except for Matt.

"Well, does the something wrong happen to do with you accidentally leaving your phone at the restaurant?" he asked.

Your attention swiftly returned to him, watching as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and slid your phone from within it. Relief flooded you instantly at the sight of it, a soft sigh escaping you. Though when that smirk grew on his lips at the sound of your relief, your left hand balled into a fist at your side. You didn’t like that he was pleased at having helped you.

"Heard you'd left it on the table from one of the bridesmaids," he explained. "So I offered to bring it back to you, considering we have rooms next to each other."

"How very gallant, Murdock. Thank you," you said in a clipped tone, accepting the phone from his outstretched hand. "But now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for bed."

Before you could close the door more than an inch, Matt’s hand darted forward. Your eyes widened in shock, staring at his large palm as it spread wide over the wooden door, halting its movements.

"You aren't going to the fire tonight?" he asked, head tilting curiously to the side. "With everyone else?"

“If it means interacting with you? No, I’m not,” you replied bitterly. “Can you please let go of my door now? I think we’re done here.”

Matt said your name, the sound of it coming out low and sultry from his lips. Your hand gripped the door tighter in response, your eyes fixed to the red lenses of his glasses. It was as if his voice had suddenly put you in a trance and you couldn’t look away from him, your heart speeding up just a little faster in your chest.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” he questioned softly, taking a slow, calculated step into your room. “Just admit you want me. That you’ve always wanted me.”

Brows jumping up onto your forehead in surprise, your mouth fell partially open. Taken so off guard by his words and his boldness, you didn’t have the chance to stop him from further entering your room. Blinking rapidly a few times in shock, you took a step back from his imposing form passing through your door. Someone must have told him that you’d once drunkenly admitted to finding him attractive and now he was being an asshole about it. That had to have been the reasoning for his behavior so far.

“I’ve always thought you were a conceited asshole, actually,” you shot back.

You hoped he hadn’t caught the tremble in your voice as he continued to close the small distance between you both. For some reason you found him more attractive than usual advancing on you like he was; you couldn’t exactly explain why it was beginning to turn you on. He looked intimidating and strong with those broad shoulders tugging at his suit coat, the buttons of his dress shirt pulling beneath his tie which was askew along his chest. He looked good–better than he ever did at Columbia–but you did not want to be feeling that way. Not for Matthew Murdock. Because he was an asshole .

“And I think you should go,” you ordered, finding your voice again.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, voice dropping an octave to something deeper as he took another step towards you. “Because I’m not buying it, sweetheart.”

Matt continued to gradually stalk towards you, one hand reaching out behind himself and pushing your door closed. It shut with a soft thump and your heart stuttered in your chest at the sound. Because you were alone with him in your room now, and for some reason that was having an effect on you that you’d rather never admit to him.

“I think,” he continued in that gravelly, deep tone, “that you’ve always wanted to know what it would be like with me.”

“That’s what you think, is it?” you questioned weakly.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lips curling upwards. “Mhmm.”

Unable to move, your eyes fixed on his smirking lips, Matt closed the remaining distance between the pair of you. His hands very gently landed on your hips and your breath hitched in response, catching in your throat under his touch. In all the years you’d known Matt in college, he’d never once touched you. Not once. Not until that brief graze of his fingertips along your thigh earlier at the rehearsal. But right now it felt like the heat from his fingers were searing into your skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, burning you from the inside out. It felt far too good, especially when his hands tightened further on your hips, gripping them more firmly as he balled your dress in his fists, pulling the fabric higher up.

Still transfixed by his face, you could see the sharp flare of his nostrils as he repeatedly expelled harsh breaths from his nose, his chest lightly heaving each time. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his head tilted to the side, almost like he was studying you in the silence that had fallen. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses that he wore you could see that he was focused on you.

And that’s when a thought struck you as you took in the sight of him, trying to keep your knees from quivering at his proximity. He didn’t seem like he was remotely teasing you right now. This didn’t feel like the Matthew Murdock you’d known in college who’d taunted you and made jabs at you. He wasn’t here doing any of that.

No, it seemed like he genuinely wanted you.

Something stirred low within you at the thought, a heat beginning to grow inside of you. One you’d never anticipated when it came to this particular man, no matter how attractive you’d found him over the years. Because he’d always been such an asshole to you. But yet…

“Except,” you found yourself saying, surprising even yourself with the way your tongue had been loosened by the glasses of wine you’d had with dinner, “I’m pretty sure it's the other way around. Because looking at you right now, Murdock, I’d say you’re the one who wants to know what it would be like with me.”

You saw the moment his jaw clenched, the muscle jumping agitatedly in his cheek. He bit down harder on his bottom lip, his shoulders tensing at your voice.

A jolt of curiosity sparked inside of you at his reaction, your nerves dissipating. Had that been it all along? Had Matthew Murdock actually wanted you back then? Was that why he was being an asshole to you now, coming into your room uninvited and making these flirtatious advances? Because he still wanted you?

Oh that was an unexpected twist indeed. One you were going to enjoy in more ways than one this weekend. Because maybe you’d thought about fucking Matt in college, back before he’d become quite so mean to you that you couldn’t bear the sight of him, but now you considered taking what you wanted from him. Maybe you’d find out if he really was as great in bed as everyone praised him to be, but that’s all you’d do. Take what you wanted from him. And you weren’t going to make this easy on him in the slightest–he was far too cocky to begin with.

Consider it payback , you thought. You beautiful asshole .

When he hadn’t denied your comment outright, you figured now was as good a time as any to test your theory. You took a step closer to Matt, leaving the pair of you now only inches apart. Immediately you heard a rumbling within his chest at the movement, the noise something almost animalistic that sent a shudder straight up your spine. A pleased smile grew wide across your lips when he fisted the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hands.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you murmured, tilting your face up towards his. “Tell me, Murdock,” you whispered, bringing your mouth closer to his as you spoke, “how often did you think about fucking me?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, sweetheart,” Matt shot back.

“And how often have you thought about it on you, hmm?” you countered.

Matt’s bottom lip rolled out from beneath his teeth, his lips twitching as they thinned out along his face. It looked like he was struggling before you, torn between making a snarky comeback or fighting the urge to kiss you. Especially with how you’d leaned up towards him, your mouth only the slightest distance from his. You could feel his warm breath brushing over your lips as you stood there, the rush of adrenaline from having such an unexpected effect on him easily going to your head–and your cunt.

Almost as if in slow motion, Matt dove forward to press his mouth to yours, but you abruptly stepped back from him. He immediately froze in place, head canting to the side as his dark brows knitted together beneath his glasses. His lips pressed firmly together as his expression shifted to one of confusion, and the sight left you grinning in satisfaction once again.

Reaching out, you placed your hand against Matt’s chest, noticing the way his lips parted and a faint whine barely spilled out between them. With a gentle push, you nudged him backwards. Surprised, Matt stumbled back a step, his hands releasing their hold on your dress. The fabric unbunched, sliding back down your legs.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Murdock,” you stated.

“Oh come on, you clearly want to,” he snapped. “I may be blind, but I can’t be the only one seeing the sexual tension here. Just admit you want me. That you want me to bend you over your bed and fuck you senseless here and now.”

Eyes narrowing, you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“No?” he questioned, surprised.

“No,” you repeated. “I don’t want that, Murdock.”

He huffed out a laugh, that stupid, smug smirk spreading back across his lips. “Now, I’m not going to believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you want, sweetheart ,” you replied, tone intentionally condescending, “but if you want me, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Matt openly scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not. I’m certainly not one to beg, and I sure as hell won’t beg for you ,” he ground out. “You’ll change your mind real soon, sweetie. I can tell you want me. Then you’ll be the one coming to beg me to fuck you and it’ll be that much sweeter .”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you told him. “Just do it out of my room that your desperate ass barged into. I need to get ready for that fire.”

He pulled a face at your words, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. The sight almost had you laughing but you bit your tongue, trying to fight it back. He somehow looked even more confused.

“I–I thought you said you weren’t going to that?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” you answered with a shrug. “Might be fun to watch you squirm now that I know what you’re really after.”

Matt shook his head, turning around and heading back towards your door. You almost offered to help him as he felt around in front of himself for a second, but then he’d grabbed the door handle and twisted it open. He took a step out into the hall, grabbing his cane that he must’ve rested against the wall out in the hallway. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder back towards you.

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m after,” he told you.

You watched as Matt unfolded his cane, making his way next door to his own room. Standing in the middle of your room, you were left staring out of the open door wondering what the hell he’d meant by that.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock

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