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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Note

pls do the “who did this to you” i just imagine and college!bucky x reader and they cant stand each other but share an apartment. reader comes back hurt, bucky sees it and becomes protective.

I think I wrote this before any other request, I loved it so much! Hopefully you do too 💕

"Who did this to you?" (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Roommate!BuckyBarnes x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of abuse, grumpy Bucky, angsty, sassy reader, fluff

You tried to blink the tears away as you roamed through your purse. There was really no need to cry at this moment, but you couldn’t help it. You were fucking shaken from what had just happened.

A curse rolled over your lips when your shaky hands missed the lock on your apartment door a second time. Stupid hands. And the dumb tears in your eyes didn't help you see what you were doing either. You just wanted to get inside, hide away in your room and avoid all of humanity for a solid week. And you wanted it to happen fast. Because you knew the conversation pending about two doors from this one and you dreaded it.

It was shameful enough you came home crying from a date at this hour, you didn’t need a lecture on top of it. But Bucky had told you. He had told you that all men were dicks and that nothing good could come out of a drunken number jot down at a sports bar at 2 am. But you didn’t listen. You never listened to Bucky. Hell, you tolerated him on a good day, so you most certainly wouldn’t take advice from him.

And that’s why you went out with that idiot poser boy John, really just to prove Bucky wrong. But, shit, it bruised your ego to admit he had been right this time. Not that you planned on telling him that.

Fuck, no.

Because all your roommate would do is give you an ‘I told you so’ when you really needed a good hug and a tequila girls' night. But that wouldn’t happen. He would never let you live down the worst date in history.

First, that dickhead had tried to order you a salad and then he pretended to have forgotten his wallet and then, after you had brought him home, he had really thought the date had gone good enough to expect more than a fucking smack in the face. And after you had politely tried to tell him to fuck off, that asshole really tried to force himself on you. Luckily, his roommate had put an end to it before anything more could have happened, but it was enough to shake you to your core.

An annoyed groan echoed through the door before it unlocked and revealed a shirtless Bucky beyond the threshold. He was staring at you broodily as you scrambled to get your key back into your purse and push past him but his disheveled hair and gray sweats made you halt for a second.

“What happened?” If you weren’t so scattered, you would have never thought to see his eyes slightly soften at the sight of you. Bucky would never, though. It was just your shocked mind playing tricks on you.

“Sorry for waking you,” you grumbled as you pushed past him, but Bucky blocked your way immediately.

“What’s your problem?” You snapped as you stared up at him. But he didn’t say a thing. “That’s what I thought,” you whispered to yourself when you pushed at his chest to clear the way.

But Bucky was fast to snatch your wrist. A painful scream escaped your lips as you yanked your arm back, holding it securely to your chest while trying to fight the tears brimming again.

Fucking tears. You didn’t want to cry.

His eyes quintet smaller before he closed the front door with a thud, while simultaneously reaching out to pull your hand back towards him - gentler this time. He pushed up your sleeve to reveal a swollen wrist beneath the cotton. Fuck, that looked worse than it felt. You hissed when his gaze caught yours again.

“What happened?” His voice was less angry suddenly - insistent and calm, somehow.

You pulled your hand back a second time. “Just forget it, okay?” Not the lecture. Not now.

But Bucky was fucking persistent. God, he was annoying. “Y/N. Who did this to you?”

You wanted to just leave but the tone of his voice let a shiver run down your spine. He was staring at you with those damn eyes again and now you really couldn’t stop the tears from falling anymore. It was too much. Too frustrating, too embarrassing.

“You were right okay?!” It broke out of you, your arm flailing in the air. “Are you happy? John Walker is a fucking asshole just like you said. Now leave me alone.”

You turned to the hallway, your sleeve wiping at your eyes while you heard Bucky follow you through the darkened room. “Not happening.”

“What?” You turned back angrily. You were so ready to just punch him right about now. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? It was bad enough as it was.

“I’ll get you some ice.”

“Bucky-”

“No. Just shut up for once and let me at least try to apologize for my species.” He grumbled and you snorted in disbelief. What was wrong with him?

Bucky just stared at you again, and you couldn’t shake the feeling he was waiting for your permission. As if he had ever wanted permission for doing anything. But when he didn’t move for another second you got serious again. “Sorry.”

With a silent nod, he disappears into the kitchen and you went about your bedtime routine. When you entered your room, freshly showered and in your pajamas, Bucky looked up at you. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, and he was wearing a shirt now too.

Shame, you thought, and immediately scolded yourself for it.

The shower had helped calm you down a little, but now that he was gently pushing the ice back to your wrist, your heart began to race again. The night had been fucking traumatic so far. And having your annoying wouldn’t-touch-you-with-a-six-foot-pole roommate be nice to you for once was terrifying. But at the same time, you felt as though you got to see a side of Bucky today he rarely showed to anyone. And, as much as you hated to admit it, it was nice to not fight with or ignore him for once.

Another then minutes passed of you just sitting in silence, your mind racing with memories of the night and Bucky staring against the wall for the majority of it. You didn’t want to think about what would have happened had Lemar not intervened his dickhead roommate’s plan. But you couldn’t stop. It was all that occupied your mind and it made a whole new wave of anxiety wash over you.

You were so deep in your nightmares, you hadn’t even noticed Bucky get up.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked with his hand on the doorframe.

You just spared him a quick glance and mumbled a hasty ‘I’ll be fine’ before you moved to lay down and roll on your side, facing your back to the door and Bucky.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to tell him the truth. That you were terrified of being alone right now. That you would sleep way better if John Walker had gotten a knee in his balls and a restraining order. But you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him either. So you just stayed silent, your arms hugging your body as a slow tear ran down to your pillow.

For a while, it was quiet, and you really needed to control your breathing, your muscles tense as you lay there. Hoping - wishing - for this to be over soon. But then you heard Bucky shuffle a few feet away from you and soon, your mattress dipped.

A small but relieved smile snuck on your lips when you felt him carefully inch closer to you. You just lifted your blanket in response until Bucky was snugly pressed against you. His arm wrapped around you and you could feel him relax when your hand covered his.

It was unusual but it felt so nice to be held.

Your breathing evened out with every second and after some time, a steady rhythm had settled within you. You actually relaxed against Bucky’s chest, his face resting in the crook of your neck - you were drifting off to sleep slowly, calmly.

But before you entirely tapped out, Bucky whispered into the darkness, a gruff annoyance in his tone. “If he ever tries something again, you tell me. I’ll make sure he’ll stay the fuck away from you.”

But it warmed you all the more. You wouldn’t take his kindness for granted, though. It meant a lot to you. “Thank you,” you sleepily mumbled as your head buried deeper in your pillow.

You saw Bucky’s frown before your eyes when his face pressed back into your skin. Funny how relationships shifted sometimes.

as always, reblogs and comments are so so so appreciated 🥰 check here for a morning after drabble

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clbrq · 6 months

Note

PLS DO MORE SAM AND COLBY SMUTSSS

DOUBLE TROUBLE - C. BROCK & S. GOLBACH.

warnings; HEAVY SMUT, fingering, oral (both receiving and giving), p in v sex, cursing/swearing, alcohol consumption, kinda like a tag team kinda thing but they don’t know about it LMAO just read.

minors dni.

-/-

You had always been attracted to your best friends. Not even in a strange way; you just thought they were both two good-looking men. Sam and Colby had been your friends since high school, your friendship dating back to when you were all living in Kansas. You can remember filming their vines, and helping them create ideas for their next ones. And when you all grew up, they both matured into two beautiful boys that you admired deeply.

Sam had a gorgeous smile, so contagious and relaxing. When he smiled, you felt happiness bloom inside your body. He also had amazingly, well cared for hair—his blonde locks were always clean and soft, easy for you to run your fingers through. His personality always lightened up your mood too, and the leadership side of him always brought you a lot stability.

Similarly, Colby was such handsome man, you almost buckled to your knees by just looking at him. He had incredible, ocean blue eyes that twinkled in the sunlight, bringing you ultimate joy when you caught a glimpse of them. Colby also, similar to Sam, had an unbelievably contagious laugh, that rang a cheerful feeling through you as the noise escaped his lips.

However, after the occasional one too many drinks, you often looked at your two best friends very differently. It was like the alcohol in you made you view your two friends in dangerously sexual manner. When you looked at Sam, you wanted him to carefully take care of you, make you feel good, but when you looked at Colby, you wanted him to absolutely destroy you. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself.

And that’s exactly how you felt right now.

You were stood with a group of your friends, including Sam and Colby, surrounded by dancing, drunk people, enjoying the 10 million subscribers party they were hosting. They always hosted the best parties—the one’s where you somehow got the most drunk. Stood with you was Corey, Jake, Tara, and Aryia, all chatting comfortably with each other.

But, you couldn’t help your eyes as they landed on Sam, the way he smiled at the joke Aryia made, forcing a smile to land on your face simultaneously. He stood with his arms loosely hanging by his sides, and a structured stance, watching as Corey laughed at Jake doing something stupid.

A small voice from next to you pulled you out of your trance, “Come get a drink with me?” Tara grinned up at you, her small height making you giggle.

“Yeah, sure, I’m feeling too sober anyway.” You replied, walking behind her as you both grab a black cherry White Claw—Sam’s favourite.

Before you could crack it open and take a sip, the can was taken out your hands, “Hey!”

“What?” Sam chuckled, “Shotgun it. That’s way more fun.”

“And why would I do that?” You snapped back, smirking up at him.

“Because I said so, and you love me, so you’ll do it.” Sam stated, grinning back.

Rolling your eyes, you knew he was right, “Fine.”

“That’s my girl.”

His voice rattled through your brain as he grabbed a small knife, and placed it gently in your hands. You licked your lips as you punctured the side of the can and watched as it bubbled everywhere. Bringing it quickly up to your lips, you opened the top as you chugged the smooth beverage in front of him as he cheered you on. Once you’d finished the can, you threw the can in the bin as you caught your breath.

You turned Sam, feeling accomplished, “See? I did it.”

“Well done, but wait.” Sam replied, but suddenly approaching you. His thumb swiped your lip as he wiped away the access of the drink from your mouth.

Slowly, he placed his thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean from the alcohol that once remained. You watched in awe, as you felt your stomach flip, not only from the White Claw settling in your empty stomach, but how sexy Sam looked doing that.

“Come on, bet everyone’s missing us.” He dragged you back over to the group, grabbing two more drinks as you followed him.

Handing you another can, you stood next to Colby, feeling your heart rate instantly increase as you got a whiff of his strong, expensively alluring cologne. The smell was almost blinding as you breathed deeper due to how much this was affecting you.

“You alright, doll?” Colby’s voice whispered in your ear, his hot breath hitting your bare neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hand rested gently on your back as he leant down to talk to you.

“Yeah, just maybe need to sit down.” You mumbled back to him, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Let’s go upstairs, it’ll be quieter there.” He suggested, letting you lead the way as his hand stayed on your lower back as you both walked towards the stairs.

You and Colby stayed in silence as you reached his free, quiet bedroom. Colby shut and locked the door as you collapsed on his bed, shutting your eyes as your previous drinks were hitting you suddenly.

You felt eyes on you, watching you closely. Opening your eyes, you sat up to see Colby stood by your feet, observing your every move with a smirk on his face.

“May I help you, Mr. Brock?” You chuckled, shuffling closer to him.

“I’m not sure, can you?”

“What do you need?” You asked, innocently, wondering what was wrong with him.

“Well, ever since you walked through that door, Hell, ever since I met you; I’ve wanted nothing more than to rip your clothes off and fuck you senseless,” He admitted, his big hand making its way up to your red hot cheek, “but, since you’re my best friend, you’re off limits.”

“W-who decided that?” You blurted out, wanting nothing more for him to do all the things he just said.

Colby laughed darkly down at you, removing his hand while staring deep into your eyes, “Why? You want it?”

“Please.” You whispered, biting harshly onto your bottom lip as his touch lingered.

Colby didn’t speak but pushed you gently back onto the bed, and climbed on top of you, connecting your lips forcefully. The kiss was hot, and steamy, teeth clashing and moans erupting from both of your throats. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his lower half closer to yours. Colby moved his hips ever so slightly, grinding his obvious hard-on onto your clothed pussy.

“Mm, I need you.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands roaming through his brown locks, “Need you now, Colbs.”

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, sitting up to throw all his clothes off to the side, bar his boxers.

Colby then turned to you, slipping off your dress to reveal your naked chest, but your lacy panties underneath.

“God, you slut.” Colby whispered, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders, “You’re practically begging me to fuck you with these on.” His fingers playing gingerly with the rim of your panties, making the arousal inside you grow.

“Please, Colby.”

“Please what?” He pushed back, wanting to hear you beg for him.

“Please, do something, touch me, please.” You whined, shimming in impatience.

Pulling your underwear off, Colby’s placed soft, teasingly slow kisses on your inner thighs, making sure you were absolutely begging for his tongue by the time he made it to your core. The way you whined and begged for him was enough as he placed his hot tongue against your aching clit. You cried out as he wrapped his pretty lips around your bud, sucking gently, taking his sweet time with you. You’d never felt pleasure like this as he reached his hand up slipped his middle finger into your clenching hole, curling them upwards, hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.

You arched your back, calling out his name as you grabbed onto his hair, pulling his locks, causing him to groan against you. Your pleasure increased as he twirled his tongue around your clit, occasionally giving it a small kiss, and then returning with his tongue. You could feel the knot in your stomach begging to tighten, the orgasm was about to hit you hard.

“Yeah, you gonna cum?” Colby asked, feeling you clench around his fingers, smirking from between your legs.

Only whining his name, begging him to continue with his mouth, he proceeded to do so. Colby flicked his tongue in a way that tipped you over the edge, the orgasm ripping through as you cried out loudly, not caring who heard. You twitched and writhed under him as ecstasy coursed throughout your body.

Standing up, Colby harshly grabbed your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue tasting sweetly of your arousal as it slid down your throat. His hand swiftly grasped your neck, kissing you roughly—he was clearly pent up.

“Bend over.” He demanded, pulling away from your swollen lips, a string of saliva and your slick connecting both of your mouths.

Doing quickly as you were told, you arched your ass into the sky for him, your pussy dripping with excitement. He knelt on the bed, teasing your spasming hole with the tip of his leaking cock.

“You ready for me, baby?” Colby purred, stroking your back, lovingly.

“Yes, Colby, please.” You winced, begging for him as you pushed your hips backwards.

Colby complied with your begging and slipped his hard cock quickly inside you, not caring for you to get used to his size. Crying out in both pain and pleasure, you gripped his bedsheets for support as he began to ram his pulsating cock inside you.

“God, you’re such a whore, aren’t you?” Colby taunted, his thrusts at a fast, yet steady, pace, “You’re so thirsty for my cock.”

“Yes, Colby, just for you.”

Colby laughed evilly from behind you, tightly grabbing onto your hips as his thrusts grew harder and deeper which each other. His rhythm so harsh, you were beginning to not see straight. He truly was fucking you senseless. You could feel another orgasm building up as he reached round to rub your clit as he pounded you from behind.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Colby announced, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as the pleasure washed over him.

Groaning out your name as he filled you up deep inside, your second orgasm ripped through you. You heard ringing in your ears and stars in your eyes as his thrusts slowed down. Soon enough, he pulled out as you collapsed onto the bed.

“You okay?” Colby queried, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Yeah, I think so.” You murmured, eyes beginning to feel heavy as he spoke.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep, still got a whole party downstairs.”

Agreeing with his statement, you sat up, sighing as you did so.

“Did so good for me, baby.” Colby whispered, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll grab you some water.”

Colby wondered off to his bathroom with an empty cup in hand, as you slowly began to dress yourself. Once he returned, you drank the whole cup he had filled up for you, erupting a small laugh from his chest.

“Now, as much as I’d love to stay here and sleep with you,” Colby started, helping you back into your dress as you begin to wake up a bit more, “People will wonder where we’ve gone.”

You nodded as you adjusted your dress, and then leaning up to peck his lips, “Thank you.”

“No problem, love,” He smiled, “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, I’ll meet you down there.”

“Alright,” You answered, watching him walk towards the bathroom once more, and then exit bedroom yourself.

However, as you walked towards the stairs, a familiar face exited his room also, and caught your gaze.

“Sam?” You questioned, unsure on what he was doing upstairs and away from the party, “What are you doing up here?”

“I needed a charger,” Sam replied, furrowing his eyebrows as his eyes lingered on you for longer than you wanted, “Are you okay?”

You were taken aback by his words, “Uhm, yeah, I think.”

“Do you need some Advil or something? You look like you’ve thrown up about 10 times.” He chuckled, approaching you.

“No, no, I’m okay. Just feel a bit lightheaded.” You lied, not wanting to admit you just fucked his best friend.

“Here, come with me, we can chill in my room until you feel better.” Sam suggested, grabbing your hand gently and leading you into his bedroom.

Déjà vu.

You and Sam sat on his bed, not saying a word as you made yourself comfortable.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I will be,” You answered, turning to face him, “Just not feeling too hot right now.”

“Well you look it.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to be so forward, “Really?”

“Yeah, 100%, always thought so.” Sam smiled cheekily, looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re drunk.” You laughed, shaking your head.

Sam returned the laugh, “Maybe, but I know what I’m saying is true.”

The adrenaline from your quickie with Colby still hadn’t worn off as you leaned in to kiss Sam. Luckily, you had read the room correctly and Sam instantly took your face in his hands as he kissed back. Sam was a gentle, loving kisser—he took his time to make sure you were enjoying it as much as him. You moved over to straddle either side of his legs, and continued your kiss in the comfort of his lap.

“God, you have no idea how you make me feel,” Sam murmured against your lips, pecking you carefully.

“Let me show you how you make me feel.” You replied, boldly, slowly moving down his body towards his crotch, “Can I?” You asked, politely.

“Fuck, yeah.”

As you removed Sam’s jeans and boxers, you watched as his obviously hard member sprung up and slapped against his torso. You took it in the small of your hand, slowly jerking his dick as you kitten licked the tip that was already leaking with pre-cum. Sam got comfortable on his bed as you lowered your mouth fully onto his dick.

Sam groaned out loud a slur of curses as you flicked your tongue on his cock as you sucked him. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue helping you amplify his pleasure. You sped up your movements, knowing this would be killing him, and he moaned out your name in ecstasy.

“Jesus, you’re such a good girl.” Sam mumbled, his one arm behind his head, his cheeks red and his eyes screwed shut.

You smirked on his member as you knew you were making him feel good. Strategically adding your hand to the base of his cock, you jerked the bottom off as you sucked the tip, helping him reach his finish.

Unlike Colby, Sam quickly finished as he grabbed your hair, gently, in his hands, pushing your head down as he spilled deep inside your throat, cursing and groaning as he did so. As you swallowed his seed, and pulled your mouth off his dick, you sat up and faced him.

You giggled as he let out a shaky breath, “Jesus, you’re unreal.” He sighed, smiling at you.

“You’re very welcome.”

Sam beckoned you over as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hand beginning to travel under your dress and to your still wet pussy. You moaned into his mouth as he began to rub small circles on your clit, making you buck your hips into his hand. You were on the verge of your third orgasm of the night, when the door opening followed by a voice caught your attention,

“Hey Sam, have you seen—“

Colby stood in the doorway, a shocked expression plastered on his face, “What the fuck?” He shouted, “I just fucked you and then you hop straight on his cock next?”

“What? You just fucked him?” Sam exclaimed, shocked.

Oh, fuck.

dude i’m gonna do a part 2 dw and it’ll be the best tag team of the century. hope you liked this! sorry i didn’t see it sooner!! xx

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cameronspecial · 6 months

Text

Let Me Tell You The Truth, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: She's been dating Rafe for a week and Y/N can't help but notice the way all men on campus seem to be avoiding her.

Masterlist

It’s been a week since Rafe and Y/N started dating and she has noticed something strange happening around campus. Everywhere she went, men would keep a distance from her as if she put on men's repellent every morning. She can’t seem to figure out why.

She was running a little late for class because Rafe was enjoying being wrapped up in her embrace as he napped, so as she entered her lecture, there were very few places to sit. There is one seat wedge in the far right at the back of the class. It is between two boys, but she has no choice because she doesn’t want to interrupt the class by going to the front. She apologizes as she makes her through the row. Her bag swings off of her shoulder and she makes sure she doesn’t hit anyone by accident. As soon as she is settled in the seat, her neighbours on both sides look over at her and panic seems to pass through both of them. She thinks nothing of it, continuing to get her things out of her bag. Almost simultaneously, both boys get up from their seats and move to the front of the class, leaving Y/N confused as to what happened. She puts her nose near her armpits and she doesn’t smell bad, so she doesn’t know why they would leave. The professor begins the lecture and she shakes it off.

———

After class, she decides to go to Starbucks to get Rafe his coffee and a snack for herself. She walks into the store, waiting in line for her turn. The man behind the counter works pretty fast and the line dwindles in a matter of two minutes. Y/N is waiting patiently for her turn. The customer in front of her moves out of the way and allows the cashier to see Y/N. He holds up a finger to her, disappearing to the back. A female employee comes out to take Y/N’s order. He must have gone on break she thinks to herself, but as she waits for her items, she notices the male cashier returns as soon as she is helped. Odd. She also can’t help but notice how a male employee makes her drink, yet another female one hands Y/N her stuff.

———

The next day, Y/N is in the campus library, looking for a book for class. Her eyes skim the different plays, but she doesn’t see the one she needs. Needing to head to class soon, she approaches one of the student workers for help. “Excuse me, could you help me find The Crucible, please?” she calls out to him. He continues to push the return cart, not turning in her direction. He must not have heard her. She tries to catch his attention again and is ignored again. Maybe, he is deaf, so she runs in front of him to visually catch his attention. When her body crosses in front of the cart, he looks at her quickly and heads in the other direction, leaving his cart behind. Her blood boils. He is clearly avoiding her like all the other men on campus and she is tired of wondering why.

She runs after him, gently grabbing his arm to turn him to her. “I know you heard and saw me so why didn’t you stop to help?” she scolds. A dark look crosses her eyes while a scared one appears in his. He scrambles away from her, almost tripping over himself. “I-I shouldn’t be talking to you. Ask your boyfriend,” he stutters as he runs to his cart. Her arms rise and fall to her side. This is all so frustrating. What could Rafe have possibly done now?

———

Her class finishes early, so she decides to go to Rafe’s room like she has been doing for the past week. This time, however, she has a bone to pick with him. Rafe sits on a beanbag with Topper beside him. They are both focused on the game of Call of Duty on the TV screen. “Hey, Angel. How was your day?” he asks, pulling his attention to Y/N while Topper just nods to acknowledge her and goes back to playing. Rafe can see the annoyance in her eyes and pauses the game, much to Topper’s dismay. “What’s wrong?” he worries, rushing to her side. She steps out of his touch, “How come when I asked the librarian why he ignored me, he said to ask you?” Topper knows where this conversation is going and stands up. “I just remembered I need to write an essay.” The couple waits for him to leave the room before continuing the conversation.

“I don’t want anyone else telling you lies. So let me tell you the truth, Angel,” he says. She gives him a motion to go on. “I may have made a campus-wide announcement that if any guy bothers you, they would have to deal with me. I guess people are taking it seriously.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Of course, they took it seriously. You’re Rafe Cameron. The last time you made a school-wide decree you put someone in the hospital.” Rafe nods, thinking back to that night. “Right, that may not have been my best moment. But I promise, Angel, I just told them not to hurt you. I didn’t say to avoid you like a pariah. They must have gotten the wrong idea,” he guesses. She takes his hand in hers, “Well, you have to fix this. It makes me think something is wrong with me when guys randomly switch seats just because I sit next to them.” “I will. By the end of tomorrow, everyone will treat you normally,” he promises while kissing her temple.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron series #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx fanfiction #outer banks rafe #outer banks x reader #obx

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cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

ginger ale (sugar daddy!h)

Harry is a rich CEO and Mia is a grad student that's eight years younger. It just so happens that they may be the answer to one another's problems.

Content warnings: age gap (8 years), sugar daddy dynamic, alcohol, smut, slight daddy kink

Word count: 8k (grab a snack and a bev and enjoy!)

masterlist | talk to me

Mia's never been attracted to older men but somehow, she's found herself sitting at a two-person table at one of the fanciest Italian restaurants in the city, nibbling on the end of the straw in her glass of ginger ale, awaiting the arrival of her date, a man who is eight years older.

To be fair, she got to the restaurant 20 minutes early and forced herself to sit in her car. She tried occupying herself by scrolling through Instagram and TikTok and playing a few rounds of Candy Crush, but she couldn't shake the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.

She weighed her options: she could drive away, go home, change out of this ridiculously uncomfortable outfit, order Chinese and rot on the couch all night. Or, she could text him here!:), go inside, say she's here for a reservation under Styles (a fake last name, she's almost sure of it), and actually give this guy a chance.

Mia desperately wishes she doesn't have a moral compass because indeed, all she wanted to do was binge watch New Girl until her eyes feel like they're going to roll out of her head, but she'd feel so shitty for standing her date up. Grumbling, she turned her car off, stuffed her keys in her purse, and walked into the restaurant, 15 minutes early.

Thankfully the staff doesn't bat an eye at her arrival time, instead escorting her to a rather private corner of the restaurant.

"This is Mr. Styles' table, but please let us know if you'd prefer something more suitable to your needs," The hostess explains as she places entree and drink menus in front of Mia.

"Oh, this is great, thank you," She replies, trying not to let any inklings of shock seep through her voice. This guy had his own table? Her eyes bulge as she glances over the wine list, her eyebrows raised slightly at the triple digit numbers accompanying fancy French names. How rich did he have to be to dine here that often?

Mia's phone buzzes, tearing her gaze away from the overwhelming menu. It's Harry, her date, who says he'll be there soon. Sorry you're waiting on me — order a bottle of wine for us, whatever you like, he'd written, making Mia roll her eyes. He must think far too highly of her if he thinks she knew what any of these wines even are.

She settles on her comfort drink instead, a ginger ale filled to the brim with ice. If this wasn't such a nice place, she would pop ice cubes between her teeth, but she figures that's a major faux pas for first dates at restaurants where a plate of pasta cost upwards of $50.

Despite meeting on a dating app and familiarizing herself with his appearance, Mia knows Harry has arrived before she even sees him. The staff seems to stand up just a little straighter and the baseline hum of conversation tapers off.

When she looks up, she understands exactly why: Harry, whose last name apparently really was Styles, commands a certain presence the second he enters a room. He's striking, fashionable, and charming, floating through the dining area with a luxurious air. Everyone — including Mia — seems simultaneously intimidated and turned on.

Thank god she decided to go on this date.

. . .

Harry is so tired.

Physically, he's been running his body into the ground for the past 8 years or so, ever since he took on the role of CEO at his uncle's company when he retired. He knows that he was insanely fortunate and privileged, and 27 was a rather ridiculous age to run an entire conglomerate. As a result, he feels the incessant need to prove himself and make sure every single one of his employees feel taken care of.

So, he doesn't have much a social life.

He has his core group of friends from college. He's close with his family. He has friends at work, and he attends numerous charity events and galas as an investor. In hindsight, he has it all — except for a romantic partner.

Harry doesn't think that you need a boyfriend or girlfriend for life to be complete, but he's certainly guilty of missing it. He hasn't had a serious partner since college, a sweet girl named Zyla, but they broke up shortly after graduating. Since then, Harry has gone on tons of dates — he knows he had so much, and he wants to share it with someone. However, it seems that all of those people are after the same thing: wealth.

He understands it. Truly, he does, and he doesn't think those people were necessarily bad. But after years upon years of shitty first dates, he's exhausted. His best friend Mitch and his girlfriend Sarah suggested he try out dating apps, so they helped him sign up for Tinder and Bumble, where were fine enough. They were good at helping him scope out people he'd actually mesh well with, but they usually ended in one night stands, never to be heard from again.

Harry is 35. He doesn't want wild sex with strangers anymore.

After a date at a bar with a guy who didn't even pretend like he was interested in him romantically, Harry snapped. If money was all he was good for, he would be upfront about it from here on out. It had gotten him everything else he could've ever dreamed for in this life — a gorgeous penthouse apartment, designer clothes and shoes, non-profit donations galore — so why not just use it to find his forever partner?

That night, after polishing off a bottle of red wine to himself, he swiped onto his dating app of choice, clicked on settings, and deleted his existing bio. Sarah had initially suggested making it about what he liked and what he was looking for, but he was eager to rid his account of its current description: "Born in London, permanent NYC transplant. Love art, books, and fashion. Send me your favorite Fleetwood Mac song."

Without a second thought, he typed in a new bio: CEO. Let me take care of you.

. . .

Harry Styles makes Mia extremely nervous.

He hasn't even sat down yet and her stomach already feels like it's in her throat, her lips parted slightly as she took in his presence. He looks so effortlessly cool, and she's nearly positive she saw his trousers on the Gucci Instagram page last weekend.

"Hey," Harry grins as he approaches the table, shedding his body of the navy blue blazer he wore, "Mia, right?"

"Mhm." She nods tightly, noting at how the waiter pulled Harry's seat out for him, placing the menus out in front of him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Harry," he says as he settles into his seat. He glances up at the waiter and shoots him a charming smile. "Thank you, John."

John, apparently, quickly shuffles away. Mia squeezes her hands into tight fists under the table while Harry glances over the wine menu, though she was almost positive he was doing it as a courtesy if he knows everyone that works here.

"Did you have a chance to decide on a wine?" he asks, glancing up with raised eyebrows.

"Um, no," Mia mumbles, "I just got a... ginger ale."

She feels incredibly dumb now. What was she even doing here? She's wearing clothes from the clearance section of ASOS and a pair of platform oxfords, meanwhile, Harry's outfit looks like it cost her entire monthly rent.

"Oh, do you not drink? I'm sorry for assuming."

"I do," Mia replies with a shake of her head, her eyes drifting down back down to the drink list, "I just... don't really know any of these... and I also don't know how to pronounce most of them."

"That's okay. Is it alright if I pick one?"

Mia nods and rolls her lips into her mouth. She wonders if it was too late to escape — can she say she has to use the bathroom and try to sneak out the window? This has to be some kind of prank.

"Once we get our entrees, we can talk out the details of the arrangement, should you be interested," Harry murmurs, closing the faux leather of the main menu, "I'm not sure if you came prepared with certain stipulations, but I'm happy to hear any that you have."

Mia's eyes bulge, leaning forward slightly with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm... what?"

Of course, John decided to come back just as Harry's jaw ticked, looking just as confused.

"What can I get you two to eat this evening?" he asks, though Mia barely listens as Harry lists off some random wine, followed by a pasta dish. John looks down at Mia, who swallows harshly, grimacing.

"I'll do the same," she jumbles out. He nods and shoots her a smile before stepping away to put their orders in.

"What do you mean by arrangement?" Mia hisses out, leaning forward and keeping her voice low.

"You're joking, right?" Harry asks, a slight crinkle forming between his brows.

"Do you... what do you think this is?" Mia demands as she digs her fingernails into her palms. Does he think she's a prostitute or an escort? She doesn't think anything on her profile gives off that vibe, and while she knows she isn't dressed as nicely as he is, it isn't enough to warrant such an assumption.

"You... you read my bio, didn't you?" Harry questions, sitting back in his seat, "You understand what I'm looking for?"

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Harry." Mia's teeth are gritted, her jaw set in annoyance.

He leans forward again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the waitstaff is walking by. In a hushed tone, he mumbles something intelligible out.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I'mlookingforasugarbaby."

"A what? Can you speak up a little?"

"A sugar baby!" Harry whispers out aggressively, clutching the corners of the table. Mia raises her eyebrows in shock and surprise, doing a mental recap of what she knew about Harry — she never would have swiped for him if that's all he was looking for, mainly because the whole concept made her too nervous. Their virtual conversations had been tame, consisting of normal questions about their occupations and hobbies. How did she miss this?

"I... I didn't know that's what you were looking for," Mia replies slowly, "Your profile didn't say anything about that..."

"Yes, it did!" Harry nearly whines, "'Let me take care of you?' That literally implies a sugar baby situation!"

"Are you serious?" Mia asks, her face twisted in a cross between confusion and disgust, "You think people understand that's what that means?"

"Obviously!"

Mia shakes her head and grabs her napkin from her lap, tossing it on the table. She feels so discouraged and frustrated, there's no way this Harry guy wasn't a total creep.

"Wait— Mia, don't go," Harry says, following her lead and standing from his seat, "Please, I'm sorry about the confusion. This isn't a reflection on you whatsoever. Can we just talk? I'll explain why I'm looking for this type of thing, treat you to dinner, no strings attached."

Mia sighs. Harry's expression and tone seem genuine and if she's being completely honest, a little naive, too. She's already here, hungry, and dressed up. It wouldn't hurt to stay.

"Fine," she mutters, plopping back down in her seat, "But you're getting me the cheesecake for dessert. And you're paying for my parking."

A small smile wiggles its way onto Harry's lips. "I'd be honored."

Mia has to look down at the tablecloth so he doesn't see the blush warming her cheeks.

. . .

Over large plates of pasta slathered in decadent sauces, Harry explains why he's in the market for a sugar baby.

"I've never looked for this type of relationship before—"

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Anyway, I'm so used to people only being interested in me for my money so I figured why not try to use it to my advantage, I guess. I'd want it to be as casual as possible... like I really am just looking for someone to come to events with me, maybe hang out on the weekends and go out on dates if we clicked enough."

Mia nods her head as she chews her penne vodka thoughtfully. "And what would I get in exchange?"

"Well, what do you want?" Harry asks through wine stained lips, "Do you have any bills you want paid? Student loan debt? Clothes, electronics, furniture?"

"How rich are you?" Mia questions before sipping on her second ginger ale of the night.

"I'm... definitely wealthy," Harry replies carefully, "My net worth is in the millions, if that tells you anything."

"You could've just said you're a millionaire."

"Are you always this bratty?"

She huffs, leaning back against the plushy velvet of her chair. She takes the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to sincerely contemplate the logistics of this situation: She stayed for the free meal from the rather... attractive, and apparently disgustingly rich man, but was she seriously, actually considering going through with this?

No. It was crazy.

Wasn't it?

"I can see you're having some sort of internal moral battle," Harry murmurs after taking a sip of wine. "I told you, no strings attached here. If you're not interested, it's more than okay."

"I don't know," Mia says, breathing out through her nose as she lowered her fork, "I would be lying if I said I didn't need the... financial assistance, I guess."

"Let's talk money, then," he shrugs, leaning his elbows on the crisp table cloth. "What do you need help with?"

Mia hadn't grown up poor, but she certainly had never been rich. Her parents had modest careers and were now retired. They taught her the importance of saving and paying her bills on time. They instilled education in her as top priority and never pressured her to pick a career that would make her the most money, instead pushing values of true happiness and satisfaction. It's honestly how she ended up in her second year of grad school with hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt under her belt.

"Well, I'm a student and I work part-time. I'm in grad school to become a social worker. I pick up shifts at the university's library when I'm not in class, so probably like... three or four days out of the week."

Harry nods, listening intently. His gaze is intense and it makes Mia's face warm.

"That seems like a lot," he says, a twinge of sympathy creeping into his tone, "You must be tired."

Mia shrugs her shoulders. "I guess."

Admittedly, she's uncomfortable with the apparent empathy Harry emits. She's used to being fairly independent and working herself to the point of burnout, solely because it was what'd she been doing since she was an undergrad. She's never entertained the thought of someone helping her out, let alone with finances.

Pursing his lips, he nods slowly before folding his hands together. "Here's what I'm willing to propose. I usually have one or two events a week, sometimes work-related, sometimes just appearances or charity things. If you'd be willing to be my date to at least one of them, I'm happy to have you quit your job and supplement that income. I can also pay off some of your student loan debt, however much you're comfortable with. I'm more than willing to work around your schedule, so if you can't attend something, that's absolutely fine. If you're struggling with rent or other bills, just let me know, and I can take care of those, too."

Mia's mouth goes dry. Harry speaks entirely too casually about money, let alone paying off massive things in her name that she'd been stressing out about for years. She quickly tucks her straw back between her lips and takes a hearty sip of ginger ale, focusing on the earthy taste and carbonation filling her mouth.

"Why?" She blurts out after swallowing, "You don't know me. I'm just some girl in grad school. For all you know, you'll take me to one of these events and I'll embarrass the shit out of you, or someone will figure out how we got involved. Isn't that worse?"

He hums, contemplating the points Mia had made. They're valid, sure, but they weren't deterring him either.

"What would you have to gain from embarrassing me?" He asks, rolling his lips into his mouth contemplatively. "I've been embarrassing myself for years by going out on dates with people who only want my money to begin with. We both need help and this is the best solution I could think of on my end. There's no pressure to agree, but I just think... well, maybe, we could be the answer to each other's problems."

Mia's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when John reappears, asking if they wanted any to-go boxes or dessert.

She doesn't order any cheesecake, but she does text Harry late that night as she lays alone in her bed, mentally running back through the night for the thousandth time: If you're still interested, I'll do it.

. . .

Mia doesn't hear from Harry for a few days.

Her mind runs rampant when she doesn't have her nose buried in a textbook doing homework or sitting through three-hour long lectures. She can't help but wonder if he's decided it's not a good fit, or maybe the entire situation was ridiculous to begin with. From what she knew about sugar babies — or what she thought she knew — was that they typically involved some sort of sexual favors in exchange for money, but Harry hadn't mentioned anything about that. All he asked for was for her to accompany him at an event once or twice a week, and he was willing to pay for her bills and chunks of her student loans.

Maybe the entire thing was just too good to be true.

So by day three, that's what Mia assumed. After all, he was a 35 year old millionaire — he definitely could do far better than a stressed out student.

She has an apple cinnamon candle burning and one of those eight hour long lo-fi YouTube videos on her TV, hoping the beat-ridden songs would somehow seep some level of productivity into her brain. She was working on a paper she had due in a couple of days, but she was only four out of 12 pages in, and she had the assignment for the past month.

She was just about ready to give up, blow out her candle, and tucker in for the night when her phone buzzes, the loud vibration echoing against the wood of her coffee table, making her jump. She didn't know what time it is, but she knew it was too late for any normal person to be texting her.

That's why she's only partially surprised when Harry's name pops up on her screen.

I have to go to a charity thing at a museum tomorrow night. It starts at 7 pm. Would you be available?

Mia was slightly confused by this — she thought that he would reach back out at some point to iron out the fine details, but it seemed as though Harry didn't care for those. She mentally goes over her schedule for tomorrow; she has classes from 10 am to 3 pm and she should work on this paper when she gets back.

What time would it end?

Nearly immediately after firing off that text, she tapped at the screen again: also, what are you doing up? It's almost 2 am.

The familiar speech bubble popped up almost instantly. Mia wedged her thumbnail between her teeth, biting at it as she watched the three dots.

It'll probably be over by 11 but I can always get you home earlier if you need. Also, I could ask you the same thing.

She pressed her lips together. There was so much she didn't know about Harry and yet, she couldn't help the way her body warmed ever so slightly at the thought of spending the night on his arm.

11 works for me. Should I know anything about the event or you before we do this? I don't want to embarrass myself by not knowing basic facts about you if I end up talking to people.

Mia's surprised when the dots immediately pop back up, but she supposes he's not doing much at 2 in the morning. She tucks her legs under her body and grabs the fuzzy blanket draped over the back of the couch as his next messages comes through.

Are you suggesting we play some sort of fuckboy 20 questions game?

She snickers at that and imagines the way his eyes widened teasingly, as if her request was as outlandish as asking him to come over for a late night hookup.

Which she would never do, and promises she hasn't fantasized about doing it every night since she saw Harry last.

Call it what you want, I just don't want to get kicked out of some fancy event because I don't even know your middle name.

She takes up her decades-long nervous habit of nibbling on her thumbnail when her phone starts vibrating in her palm, this time signifying an incoming call from Harry. She initially wonders if it's some sort of butt dial, panicking about answering it, but by the fifth ring she figures he would've caught on by now, so she quickly presses the green button and lifts it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"You didn't think we were gonna play 20 questions over text, did you?"

. . .

Harry thinks he could stay up until sunrise talking to Mia.

Conversation flows naturally, like they're childhood best friends and have known each other their whole lives. If he hadn't been born eight years before her in a different country, he would actually wonder if that were the case, but youthful, snappy remarks are enough to remind him that there's no way this girl ever existed in his life before. He would've remembered her, even if they'd only met for a moment.

They talk about anything and everything to soothe Mia's nerves about not knowing basic facts about one another. Her middle name is Lucille and she grew up in Connecticut with an older sister. They bond about being the youngest sibling and having divorced parents. Her comfort food is boxed macaroni and cheese, which makes Harry's nose wrinkle, though she swears it's the perfect meal to eat after a stressful day.

"What should I wear tomorrow night?" Mia asks sometime around 3:15, when their conversation begins to dwindle down. Harry hums and picks at a loose thread on his vintage tee-shirt.

"Any sort of dress will do," he replies casually, "I can always have my stylist send some options over if you'd like, just text me your size."

She snorts at that. "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that. You wore head-to-toe Gucci the other night and I'm pretty sure designer shit runs, like, three sizes too small on women."

"Point taken," Harry admits, backing off. "It's not too fancy of an event so don't stress. Do you have anything in mind?"

"Mm, maybe. I have a pink slip dress I wear on dates sometimes. Do you think that would be alright?"

Harry's stomach twists at the thought of Mia going out on dates with other people, but he quickly shoves the feeling down.

"Sounds pretty," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "Send me a picture before tomorrow night so I can match you."

Mia smiles to herself. "That's cute. I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Yeah, my driver will pick you up at 6:30. Sleep tight, Mi."

"G'night, Harry," she says softly before hanging up the phone. She tries to ignore the way her heart warms at the new use of a nickname.

. . .

Mia has had a bad day.

She stayed up too late last night talking to Harry, and she's trying not to give too much weight to the fact that butterflies invade her stomach every time she thinks about their two-hour long conversation. She snoozed her alarm to the last possible minute so she couldn't take a shower before class this morning and her professor called on her when she wasn't paying attention, so she stumbled through some bullshit answer about child psychology like an idiot.

She didn't have time to grab lunch between her second and third classes, so by the time she got home, she was starving, tired, and grumpy, but she had to get ready for Harry's charity event. She stuffs a bagel down her throat and hopes there's decent food before jumping in the shower, pulling on her dress, and doing just enough with her makeup and hair. She's additionally grouchy that she didn't have enough time today to make a dent in her paper that's now due in only three days, but she knows she can only blame herself for poor time management.

When she receives a text from Harry that says "Here x", she tries to take a deep breath to rid herself of the day's worries and anxieties. Typically around this time, she'd be elbow deep in a carton of lo mein from her favorite Chinese restaurant and preparing a eucalyptus-scented bath, but she reminds herself that she already agreed to do this for Harry. And the money.

Her platform sandals click against the sidewalk outside of her home, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of a sleek black town car with a man standing outside of it.

"Mia?" he asks, his lips pressed in a tight line. She nods and he opens the door for her, motioning for her to get inside.

When she climbs in, she sees Harry on the interior, his thumbs tapping against the screen of his phone. He glances up to look at her and her breath stalls for a moment. He's wearing a baby pink silk shirt underneath his blazer, matching the exact shade of her dress.

"Hey," Harry smiles, tucking his phone in his breast pocket, "You look beautiful."

"Your shirt." she points out dumbly.

"What about it? Do you not like it?"

"I love it," she blurts out as the man shuts the car door closed, "I didn't think you were serious about the matching thing."

"That's silly. Why wouldn't I be serious about that?"

"I don't know." she mumbles with a shrug.

"Are you gonna buckle up?" Harry asks, nudging his chin in the direction of her seatbelt. She scrambles, feeling embarrassed as she hoists the strap across her chest, clicking it in. The car gently buzzes to life and glides down the road and out of Mia's neighborhood, just as she realizes she's definitely never been in a vehicle this nice before.

"How was your day?" Harry questions from beside her. Her fingers are wrung together in an awkward position in her lap and she has to clear her throat before answering, tugging the material of her dress down to cover more of her thighs.

"It was actually kinda shitty," Mia admits with a bittersweet smile. "Woke up late and didn't really have time to eat too much and my lectures were boring. And I have this kind of big paper due in a few days that I'm stumped on, so that's that."

Harry wrinkles his eyebrows and she can't tell if it's because he's disappointed or about to reprimand her. She prepares herself for the former based on the age difference, assuming the worst from assumptions she's made.

"I told you we would work around your schedule. If you need to do homework tonight that's perfectly fine, I can have Reese turn around and drop you back off."

Mia's slightly surprised at his soft-spoken response and she relaxes her shoulders at it. Harry notices, but he doesn't say anything.

"It's okay. I still have three days... well two since I probably won't work on it tonight."

"What are you stuck on?" he asks, pressing his lips together. Mia glances down at them for just a moment, but she instantly notices their natural muted pink hue. It reminds her of their first date, when they were stained red from wine. "I obviously don't know much about social work, but sometimes it helps to talk things out."

Mia nods at that before shrugging her shoulders, "I think it's mainly just an environmental thing. I spend most of my days on campus so I just want to go home when classes are done, and my neighbors are loud and I get too distracted at home. I can manage it fine, but I usually need an impending deadline to pressure me to work."

"Mm, yeah, I've been there," Harry replies with a chuckle. "Well, if you need a change of scenery, my place is always available. I have an office and guest room and such, whatever suits you. Won't even bother you to play 20 questions."

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. "I admit, I didn't mind that distraction."

"Ah, so I'm a distraction now?"

He has that cheeky grin on his face — the teasing one that makes her blush and her heart stutter — and she giggles, forcing herself to look away so he doesn't see the way her face warms.

Maybe tonight won't be so bad.

. . .

Harry likes having Mia on his arm. A lot.

Maybe a little too much, really, but he's blaming it on the two glasses of wine and the lack of food in his stomach. Like Mia, he'd had a busy day with minimal time to eat, let alone breathe, and he probably would've ditched this entire thing if she hadn't agreed to be his date.

He's not even that special of a guest here. He was a frequent donor to the art museums in the city, and he'd supplied the exhibition with a couple of thousand dollars to get it off the ground. He didn't do it for anything other than the fact that he had too much money and didn't know what to do with it, and his sister always asked to visit this particular museum every time she was in town.

Harry discovers that Mia is actually quite good at schmoozing and chatting with wealthy people. She plays the part of Harry's girlfriend well, and the sight makes his throat dry. She's sweet and kind to everyone they talk to, even if they bring up points that are painfully boring, and she wraps her hand around his as they meander around the room, picking at h'ordeuvres and refilling their glasses.

It almost feels natural.

Sometime around 10 pm, though, he can feel her posture slump slightly and yawns begin to escape her. He excuses them from the conversation he was just barely paying attention it and smoothly guides her with his hand at the small of her back.

"'s a matter?" she whispers, her eyes widening. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not. You're getting tired though, hm? I wanna make sure I get you home at a reasonable hour."

Mia blinks a few times, a look of confusion crossing over her face. "You said 'til 11 though, right?"

"There's no reason for us to stay any longer and you've already done so much by being here, Mi," Harry murmurs as he fires off a quick text to let Reese know they're ready to be picked up. "Lemme get you home, okay?"

She doesn't argue any more at that, and that's how he can tell she's genuinely exhausted. He smiles gently and shrugs his blazer off, then wraps it around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be cold out there, temperature was slated to drop a bit," he explains shortly, swallowing at the sight of her in his jacket. "Reese will be here any minute if you're ready to go, though."

Mia nods. As Harry turns on his heel to exit the building, she reaches out without thinking, intertwining their fingers together. He turns instantly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, but all he sees are wide eyes and a furious blush.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she scrambles, dropping his hand, "I... don't know why I did that, I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Harry smirks. "We can hold hands if you want, babe."

She scowls at his teasing tone but nevertheless reaches outward once more to grasp his hand in hers.

"If you make fun of me for this when I'm sober and not as sleepy, I'll kick you in the shins."

He lets out a loud laugh, "Wouldn't dream of it."

. . .

Harry doesn't hear from Mia for two days.

He tries to distract himself with work and the gym, but he's lying if he says he's not checking his phone every five minutes for a text from her. He wants to message her first, but it's been years since he's had... feelings, whatever they may be, for someone, and he doesn't want to overwhelm her. So for two days, he busies himself with going over reports, bringing work home and passing out on the couch with his laptop still open.

Finally, on Thursday night, Harry has Friends on TV while he scrolls mindlessly on Instagram. His phone suddenly alerts him of an incoming call, and his fingers itch at the sight of Mia's name. He doesn't even have it in him to wait 10 seconds before he picks up.

"Harry?" She sounds stressed as he rushes out his name before he's able to say hello.

"Mia?" He echoes her panicked tone, "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

"My paper is due in five hours and I still have four pages to go and I— I don't know what to do, I'm freaking out, I'm so tired and I just— it's worth 70% of my grade and I'll fail the class if I don't—"

"Mi, breathe," Harry cuts her off, placing his elbows on his knees. "What do you need? Do you need to talk it out, read it out loud to me?"

It's silent for a moment and butterflies invade his stomach, wondering if he's pressed too hard. Maybe she just needed to vent.

"I was actually wondering if I could come over and work," Mia says softly. "It's fine if not, I'll be okay—"

"Yes." Harry replies, quick enough to make himself grimace. "Um, yes, of course, the offer still stands. I'll send Reese for you right now and I'll set you up wherever you want."

She breathes a sigh of relief into the receiver, mumbling out a series of "okay"s.

"Did you eat, darling?"

"N-no. I came straight home after work and I... just didn't have time to cook anything."

"Work?" Harry repeats, flashing back to their date two weeks ago, when he told her she could quit her job. "I told you I would supplement your income if you left."

"Well, um... you didn't exactly... pay for me for the event a few days ago and I just thought maybe our... arrangement, um, changed."

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry sighs, lifting his hand to his hair, pulling at the messy roots. "I'm so sorry, I thought... I assumed you would ask when you needed money. I've never done this with anyone else and I didn't even think."

She swallows thickly and pauses on packing her bag to bring to his house.

"Listen, let me order some food and when you get here, we'll work on your paper and I'll send you some money to make up for the other night, alright? We'll iron out the rest of the details, too. I don't want you to keep working yourself to the bone."

"Okay," Mia breathes into the receiver, and the muffled shuffling in the background resumes. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Harry. That sounds good."

"Of course. Reese is on his way, I'll see you soon."

"See you."

. . .

Mia wants to cry when Harry unlocks the door of his penthouse apartment.

She's so tired and burnt out and all she could focus on the drive over was whether or not her thesis was good and if she had enough points and data to reach the word count.

She wants to collapse the moment she steps inside, brushing past Harry with a small, forced smile, who is already in a pair of sweatpants, a worn tee-shirt, fuzzy socks and a pair of reading glasses.

The tears actually start when she glances over to the kitchen island to see a bowl of macaroni and cheese and a ginger ale.

"Eat," he murmurs as he reaches his arm out to take Mia's bag. She's stuck in her place though, eyes watering at the sight of her comfort meal in Harry's million dollar apartment. "Mi? You alright?"

She blinks the tears away and parts her lips, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You remembered."

Harry smiles gently and nods, pressing a hand to her upper back and guiding her to the dining room table. "Of course I did."

He shuffles down the hallway as Mia stuffs a few forkfuls of macaroni in her mouth. She doesn't realize how utterly starving she is until right now, and she has to admit that having some food in her system is helping soothe her anxiety.

Harry meanders back out as she's sipping on her ginger ale, "Okay, I set your stuff up in my office. Plugged your computer in, put your phone on do not disturb. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

"Wait," Mia jumps up, glass in hand. "Uh... I'm sure you worked all day and the last thing you want is to hang out while I write this paper, but would you... stick around, maybe hear some of my ideas out? I tend to get a little loopy when I'm stressed."

A dimpled grin wiggles its way onto Harry's face.

"I'd love to, Mia."

. . .

"Harry? Can you read this and tell me if it makes sense?"

It's been two hours of quiet typing, discussing Mia's thesis, and Harry playing mindless games on his phone until she asks him to go over something with her. He's exhausted — they both are, but she only has an hour before the deadline and they have no choice but to keep trucking on.

She hands him her laptop and he peeks through his glasses, reading the highlighted paragraph. It's something about community-based learning opportunities connecting to abuse victims, and while the only relevant knowledge he has is from a freshman psychology course, Mia is knowledgeable and great at what she does. She breaks down concepts in a way that's easy to understand and listening to her talk about something she's passionate about makes his heart swell with joy.

"Looks great, Mi," he murmurs as he passes her laptop back, "How much more do you have left?"

"That was actually it." She says with a bright smile despite her tired eyes. "I can submit it now as long as all that sounds good."

Harry grins and rises from the en-suite couch, stretching his arms out. Mia can't help but notice the sliver of his torso revealed as he bends back slightly and she swallows, refocusing back to the screen.

"D'you wanna stay over, darling? It's already 3 and I bought a six-pack of ginger ale that I won't drink."

Mia's heart tightens as she clicks 'submit', shutting her laptop and looking up at him.

"Are you sure that's alright? You've done so much for me already, I don't wanna be a bother."

"Not a bother," Harry mumbles, nodding his head in the direction of the hall, "Also, send me your Venmo so I can send some money over, hm?"

"Harry— wait, about that," she scrambles up from the desk, wringing her hands together behind her back as she steps towards him, "I don't want you to pay me for that night."

"What?"

"I don't know if this is... presumptuous of me, but I had a really nice time being your date. And I don't want you to pay me for that time."

"Oh," Harry mutters, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "You need money though, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not at your status but that's not why I'm here. Or why I went with you the other night."

"What?"

Mia swallows and takes a deep breath. "I like hanging around you, Harry. I like who you are. I don't want this to be a financial exchange if... if you want the same thing."

"Really?" Harry asks, blinking owlishly at the girl, "You... you don't want me for my money?"

She shakes her head. "No. I don't."

"I like you," he blurts out, making a smile appear on her lips. "I don't want that arrangement either."

Her shoulders relax and her smile turns into a grin. He steps closer to her and tentatively reaches out to press a hand to her hip, waiting to see if she'll reject his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asks softly, glancing down at her mouth. "I've been dying to since that first night."

Mia nods quickly, breathing out an affirmative answer. He leans forward and smears their lips together, nearly moaning out in relief from the feeling of closeness he'd been dying for. She stands on her tippy-toes and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her chest up against his. It's warm and wet and so nice, but he forces himself to break away, leaning her forehead against his.

"That was nice." she murmurs, little puffs of air leaving her mouth. He nods eagerly and squeezes her hip.

"Perfect," he whispers. "Just... don't wanna rush things."

Mia raises an eyebrow, glancing down when she realizes Harry's hard length against her thigh. He grimaces in embarrassment — typically he's able to control himself far better, not getting a boner from a two minute kiss, but he's been dreaming about finally getting to kiss her.

"Oh," she sighs, and Harry swears he notices a slight glint in her eyes when she glances up at him. "You feel.. big."

He breathes out a chuckle, "Don't stroke my ego, sweetheart, can only take so much tonight."

"Can I... am I allowed to touch?" Mia questions, her voice soft and peeked with curious. Her eyelashes flutter as she peeps up at him, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Only if you want to. Don't feel pressured to do anything, it'll go away on its own."

Harry's honest in his answer, not wanting her to feel obligated by any means, but he's lying if he says he isn't thrilled when she slowly sinks to her knees, palming at his crotch on her way down.

"Fuck," he mutters, swallowing harshly at her sweet doe eyes batting up at him.

"When's the last time someone took care of you?" she murmurs as she gently tugs his sweatpants down, leaving him in a navy blue pair of briefs. His cock is nearly bursting out of them and she licks her lips at the visual, her mouth parting slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Harry replies in a strained voice. She pulls his underwear down to reveal his painfully hard cock, slapping up against his lower stomach with a bubble of pre-cum at the tip. "Wanna take care of you, darling."

Mia giggles at that and begins to pepper kisses along the tops of his thighs. Her fingertips wiggle between his legs, just below his balls, encouraging him to part them so she can sponge kisses along the skin there.

"Can I touch, please?" she asks, looking back up at him. He nods and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when her hand wraps around the base, squeezing lightly. "I was right. Your cock is big and pretty."

"You're gonna make me cum just from that dirty mouth." Harry mutters, lulling his head to the side as she slowly pumps his length. She moves her mouth to hover over his length and spits, letting saliva dribble from her mouth onto his skin. The mix of her spit and his pre-cum are enough lubrication to help her jerk him at a steady pace, and she smiles when she hears his choppy breathing from above.

Mia mouths over the tip of his cock and sticks her tongue out, licking up the leaking fluid. "Mm, you taste good," she mumbles, almost as if Harry wasn't meant to hear her, "I want you to fuck my face and cum down my throat, please."

He chokes at her casual tone and reaches down to thread his fingers through her hair. "Are you sure, baby? 'M perfectly content with just watching you on your knees like this."

With her cheek pressed against his thigh, she smiles brightly at the use of the pet name, still nodding her head at his question.

"Mhm. I usually don't like deep-throating but your cock is really nice... wanna taste you and feel you burst in my mouth."

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

She lets out a giggle as Harry slowly guides his cock into her mouth. She takes him with ease, relaxing her throat until she's taken most of him. He inhales sharply through his nose as she takes initiative and begins bobbing up and down, drool starting to leak from the sides of her mouth. He groans as he watches her, growing comfortable when he sees how eager she is, and moves his hips in time with her movements until her nose is flush against his pelvis.

"Fuck, Mia," Harry moans when she gags around his tip. Mascara-stained tears flow from her eyes and down her cheeks, but she doesn't give an inkling a discomfort, only doubling down on her efforts with a muffled whimper.

She releases for a moment and he's prepared to ask if he's being too rough as she wipes spit from her chin, "You can go harder, I'm fine. Also, is it alright if I call you daddy?"

"Jesus Christ," Harry guffaws, allowing his head to duck back fully now, "Yeah, sweetheart, choke yourself on daddy's cock."

Mia grins and squeezes her thighs, instantly diving back in. Harry bucks his hips, fucking her throat deeper and faster as his orgasm quickly unravels in his body. Lightning zips throughout him, his groans quickly getting louder every time she gags around his length.

"I'm gonna cum," Harry warns, the familiar feeling building. He looks down at her and watches her greedily take him, and that's all he needs before he's exploding. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, fuck—"

He's filling up her mouth with rapid ropes of warm cum and she moans at his taste, letting him empty his balls and continue using her throat. He breathes harshly as his peak slowly ends and she slides off of his sensitive cock, cum spilling out the corners of her mouth.

Without a word, he pulls her up and surges forward, pressing their lips together. She squeaks in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, their tongues swapping the fluid he just emptied into her mouth. They part with harsh breaths, Mia clutching his shirt with tight fists.

"Was that okay?" she asks as he wipes the remaining mix of spit and cum from her lip.

He smirks and shakes his head, "You're silly for even asking that. It was amazing."

"Mm, good."

"C'mon, I'm not letting you go home at this hour. You can stay in the guest room if you don't want to sleep with me."

"I just swallowed your cum, I think you owe me a cuddle, Styles."

He lets out a loud laugh and tugs at her hand, out in the direction of the hallway and to his bedroom, "Whatever you want, darling."

. . .

The next morning, Mia wakes up in a huge, comfy mattress, surrounded by luxurious tufts of white duvet.

For a minute, she forgets where she is, until she's reminded of the night before. She blushes at the overwhelming happiness that floods her body, remembering the way Harry held her all night and pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead every time he woke up.

When she opens her eyes, she's expecting to see him, but she's met with an empty mattress. She sits up with furrowed brows until she zeroes in on a folded note on his pillow with her name and a heart next to it.

Smiling gently, she opens it.

Morning, sweetheart. Got called into the office early and you looked too sweet to wake up. Make yourself at home, feel free to invade my closet or fridge.

Leaving you my credit card to treat yourself to something nice, too — just because we're not in this arrangement anymore doesn't mean I won't take care of you financially.

xx daddy

Mia squeals and falls back against the bed.

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jae-bummer · 8 months

Text

A Little Air

Request: Hi! I just discovered your account and I wanted to tell you that I LOVE the way you write,I´m kinda embarrassed to ask for this tho- I wanted to ask you if you could do prompt 8 with Bangchan,like someone introduces him to YN and uses thoses lines and then she falls in love or something like that? idk if I explained well,but I would really appreciate if you did this! ♡

Prompt:

8) "He has tired dad energy." "He doesn't have kids." "Still a DILF."

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Parties weren't really your thing.

And that's okay! Parties didn't need to be your thing. You much preferred things that were your thing. Coffee dates, reading books, going out to check the mail to say you saw sunlight that day. All of these were excellent things, and they were yours.

Your best friend, Bee, on the other hand, had very different things, such as parties.

And that's why you had been dragged to this one.

She tried to frame it as an "intimate get together," but upon arriving, you hadn't realized that nearly 40-50 people sharing a space was considered "intimate."

Glaring up at her, you tried to imagine small daggers flying from your pupils and into the side of her cheek. You didn't want to actually harm her, as they were very tiny, inconsequential daggers, but you wanted to have them annoy her, just like you were annoyed.

"You okay?" she hummed, her eyes constantly scanning the room around her. "You look like you have something in your eye."

You did. It was called revenge. "Why am I heeeere?"

"Because you're my best friend and I enjoy your company," she nodded, finally deigning to look your way.

Your expression remained deadpan as she burst into laughter. "What?"

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," you pouted, attempting to cross your arms with your drink still in your hand.

"Oh, come oooon!" she gasped. "It's not so bad! We're in the corner of the room, away from everyone, people watching. You love people watching!"

The bitch had you there.

"Hey, you two!" a familiar voice tugged at your attention. Looking over, a mutual friend was shuffling over.

"Hey, Eunji," you and Bee responded, one of you obviously much more enthusiastic than the other.

"What are you guys doing tucked away over here?" she asked, settling in at your opposite side.

"Reading the room," Bee grinned. "You know a lot of these people better than we do, so I have to ask...who is that?"

"Wasting no time on pleasantries," Eunji laughed. "Getting right into the important stuff, I see."

Motioning with her eyes, you followed Bee's line of sight until you too were looking at her subject of interest. It was not surprising in the least that this guy had snagged her attention. He was occupying one end of a velvet couch, sleepily following the conversation of the two men standing in front of him. Man-spread in an oddly desirable way, he held a drink by the edge of the rim in between his knees, his pose completely relaxed. Dressed from head to toe in black, you were surprised to admit that he made eye bags work. You had never seen someone look so tired and simultaneously hot at the same time.

"His name is Bang Chan," Eunji continued.

"He has tired dad energy," you murmured to no one in particular.

"He doesn't have kids," Eunji snorted, joining you in your ogling.

"Don't care," Bee said, shaking her head. "Still a DILF."

"Oh god," you gasped, immediately turning your attention elsewhere. You had been spotted. He was now looking at the three of you looking at him.

Bee continued to stare, a small smile on her lips. "I think you should talk to him, Y/N."

"I'm sorry, I should what?" you gasped, turning sharply to face your friend.

"Why not?" she asked, tilting her head. "He is very much your type."

"He is very much everyone's type!" you snapped. "Have you seen him?"

"I'm about to see him even better," she grinned. "He's coming this way."

Fuck.

Sure as shit, as soon as you turned your head back in his direction, you saw that he had stood and said his goodbyes to the men he had previously been talking to.

It may have been your imagination, but time seemed to slow as he strolled toward you. The sound of birds chirping and a few "sha la la's" could be heard playing in the distance.

"Excuse me," he said, much more cheerfully than you had anticipated. "I thought I'd come over and introduce myself. My name is Chris."

"Hi, Chris," the three of you chimed, clearly all taken aback.

This caused him to breath in a laugh, exposing you to his devastating smile. A spark danced in his eyes as he looked to each of your friends before settling his attention on you.

"We were just going to grab another drink," Bee interrupted, grabbing hold of Eunji's wrist. "You two want anything?"

"You haven't finished your first drink," you said in an attempt to get your friends to stay. You knew what they were doing, and you didn't appreciate it one bit.

"I want something different," Bee snapped back before shooting an awkward smile at Chan.

Before you could even blink, your friends disappeared into the throng of partygoers. Slowly turning back toward your newest acquaintance, you tried to come up with something thoughtful to say.

"How'd you end up here?" you blurted out instead.

Chan smiled easily again, watching you as if you were entertaining him. "This is my friend's apartment. What about you?"

"I was dragged here by the one who suddenly felt parched," you grumbled.

"Dragged?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"I'm not great at parties," you admitted, looking away from him in embarrassment. "I'm not great at...conversing or the whole...people thing."

"I think you're doing just fine," he cooed, his tone somehow comforting AND seductive. "But I totally understand. It can get to be really overwhelming."

You'd been talking for about twelve seconds, and he got it. Why didn't your friends get it?

"Do you want to get some air?" he asked, seeming to notice how stiff you were. "I have special balcony privileges."

"I'm talking with a VIP then?" you smirked.

"The V-est of the IPs," he grinned. Remaining silent, you realized he was waiting for your answer, not just assuming you wanted to go with him.

Well, that was refreshing. "I wouldn't mind stepping outside for a bit."

"Great," he nodded. Turning away from you, he began walking toward the opposite side of the apartment, parting the sea of people effortlessly. Almost forgetting to follow behind, you were shocked back into reality when he looked over his shoulder and intertwined your fingers in his.

Trying to remind yourself to remain calm, your heart skipped a beat, nonetheless.

You wouldn't normally go anywhere with a strange man you had met at a party, but there was just something about Chan that put you at ease. It was hard to explain, but his whole vibe was soft and comfortable. Like a human version of a hug.

Plus, there were more than enough people here to act as witnesses if he happened to push you off of the balcony.

Guiding you down a hallway and through a bedroom, Chan opened up a set of clear glass doors before stepping outside. As soon as the cold night air hit your face, you felt your body begin to relax.

"It's so quiet out here," you murmured, dropping Chan's hand and moving to stand at his side. You instantly regretted breaking the contact but were much too awkward to act normally if you maintained it.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he hummed, resting his forearms against the railing. "Hyunjin has a lot of these parties. This balcony has become an excellent hide out for when things get to be too much."

"Sounds like you're quite the party animal," you joked, pushing playfully at his shoulder with yours.

"Hardly!" he grinned. "I have a lot of friends, so I know I have some social skills, but I prefer to not be in a party setting. Don't get me wrong, it's fine sometimes, but I'd much rather hang out with people I'm already close with than be forced to meet new people."

Ouch, so much for being a human hug.

Instantly realizing his mistake, Chan jerked his head up and spun toward you. "No, no, no, no," he repeated quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, you're lovely. I mean...I should probably just stop talking, shouldn't I?"

Letting out a huffed laugh, it was your turn to lean on the balcony and stare into the city below. "It wasn't personal."

"It really wasn't," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Man, really mucked up that one, didn't I?"

"It did not win you any gold stars."

Throwing himself beside you again, he tilted his face to gaze at you. "Forgive me?"

"Already forgiven," you hummed. Chancing a look his way, you offered a small smile. "It's easy when I hardly know you."

"Very valid point," he nodded. Letting the air settle into silence, it was a few minutes before he finally spoke again. "Would you let me know you?"

"Sorry?" you asked, not sure if you heard him clearly. "Weren't you just saying you didn't like meeting new people?"

"That may be a slight twist on what I said," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But that was before."

"And now?"

"And now I'm on the balcony with someone who is clearly out of my league and I'm floundering for any type of brownie points," he smiled shyly.

"Out of," you stammered. "Out of your league?"

He started chuckling again. "You're doing a great job at repeating things I've said."

Shaking your head, you tried to work out his meaning. "Like you're doing charity work?"

"Whoa," he breathed, furrowing his brows. "No, like you're likely too good for me."

"I think..." you paused, the information slowly seeping into your understanding. Did he really think that? "Someone hit you on the head very hard and you aren't thinking straight."

This caused Chan to choke out a surprised laugh. "Come oooon. You know who is the attractive one on this balcony."

"Pfft," you snorted. "Sure, Chris."

A shiver rippled across your shoulders, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself. What had once been an energizing chill had turned much cooler as the night stretched on.

Noticing this, Chan cocked a brow before he began biting his lip. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the motion, trying to remember to breathe through something so simply sexy.

"Do you mind if I-" he began, motioning with his arms.

You weren't exactly sure what he was getting at, but at this point, he could likely do whatever he wanted with you, and you'd still thank him for the opportunity. Giving a weak nod, you were surprised when he pivoted you to face the city again and wrapped his arms around you. Bracing his hands on the balcony railing, he sandwiched you in between the metal and the front of his torso.

Sure, you were immediately warmed by his close proximity, but you were also that much closer to passing out. Being in this range, he was even more intoxicating than he had been before.

"Better?" he cooed; his breath heavy in your ear.

"Much," you squeaked, trying to remain calm.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he let out a light sigh. "You never answered me."

Suddenly every question he had asked tonight flew from your brain. "What did you ask?"

"Would you let me know you?"

You thought you were going to swallow your tongue. "I'd like you to."

"Good," he cooed. "I look forward to it then."

Man, you'd have to send Bee an edible arrangement after this. Who knew you'd like parties after all?

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #bahng chahn #christopher bang #stray kids chan #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #skz bang chan #chris bang #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

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phntmeii · 8 months

Text

♡ Dating Aegon II Targaryen Headcanons:

❝ But… If you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied…❝

[SFW+NSFW + AFAB!Reader]

General Warnings: sad!Aegon, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of neglect

NSFW Section Warnings: pervert!Aegon, AFAB Terms, Somnophilia, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Sensory Deprivation

A/N: Still upset about his characterization in the show :/ Poor TGC was trying so hard to save this character. Appreciate that he gave us pathetic wet dog vibe for Aegon at the least

SFW Headcanons:

☀️ Aegon has desperate issues regarding love especially the idea of someone loving him. He’s been completely neglected by his father, only valued by his mother as a “rightful” king and struggles with alcoholism as a result.

☀️ Having you see him not as a ruler, not as a prince, not as a chess piece in a political game, but as a person has his mind confused.

☀️ It takes a bit of time for him to entertain the idea of you valuing him as true but once he does, he’s latched onto you like his life depends on it.

☀️ And I mean literally latched on. He is unashamed at how clingy he is to you. Arms always wrapped around you in the hall and keeping his eyes to yours.

☀️ Aegon is only willing to listen to you without complaining too much. Maybe a whine or two but he’s totally whipped so he’s on his way to do as you ask.

☀️ He’d LOVE for you to meet Sunfyre. If you are unaccustomed to dragons, he makes sure to slowly introduce you because he wants you to love his dragon as much as he does.

☀️ Always dreams about running away with you. He’ll be cuddling with you and ask about it. Even if it was impossible, he’d like to dream about going off somewhere in Essos, away from the throne.

☀️ “Love, simply listen to me… Imagine it. We could run off on the first ship out of this blasted kingdom. It could be just us…”

☀️ Alicent would simultaneously love and hate you. She enjoys the company of women and finally, someone has found a way to handle Aegon. But, she’d also be weary of this on account of her father because Aegon being infatuated with you means he’s more willing to listen to you than his council.

☀️ Rather than ditch his duties to attempt escapes, to drink or to whore, he’s sneaking off to see you if it’s been too long. He insists you stay by him during meetings or other duties to keep him from “going mad”.

☀️ Aegon can get very jealous when he sees you with other men because he knows what they’re thinking when they look at you. But you are his. No one else’s.

☀️ And considering he’s the firstborn and a prince, he has absolutely no problem getting petty because there would be no serious consequences. (Bonus tag team with Aemond.)

☀️ Aegon’s main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.

☀️ Aegon is obsessed with your body completely. He wants to do everything to have you in his arms.

☀️ He is unashamed with PDA. He’s kissing you almost every couple of minutes. He’s walking down the halls all smiles because he’s holding your hand.

☀️ Aegon’s need for you is constant and his mood quickly sours if he’s pulled away from duty rather than being able to spend his time with you.

☀️ He’d whisk you away onto Sunfyre for a joyride just so he can be away from everyone but you. Consider it a romantic gesture because in his mind it is.

☀️ He thinks it’s like when the knight saves the princess in the stories.

☀️ Lingers in the mornings just so he can have you by him for longer. The sun is hurting his eyes this early in the morning so what better than to bury his head in your chest and softly ask you to stay as he caresses your perfect body.

☀️ Aegon’s favorite Love Languages to receive are: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation.

☀️ Aegon wants to feel special. To feel taken care of. To feel loved. So anytime you go out of your way to assist him, his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.

☀️ You tidied the bedchamber? Have prepared his clothing? You’ve had his sword cleaned and polished? You’re practically begging for this man to be completely and utterly obsessed and he’s littering you in kisses in appreciation.

☀️ And, of course, he wants praise. No one has validated him and simply valued him as a person so he yearns for your words.

☀️ Something as simple as “I’m proud of you” has him close to shedding tears because no one tells him that.

☀️ He wants to hear you say “I love you” as much as possible so he’ll say it all the time just to hear you say it back.

NSFW Headcanons:

☀️ At first, he has to be dominant and take control. He’s been cut out of having control in all other aspects of his life that he needs some semblance of power.

☀️ You can trust that he knows what he’s doing. Although some of his fucking has been done while drunk, he’s done it and experimented enough to know what gets him off and what gets you off.

☀️ Only after some time will he trust to submit himself in bed. It’s scary to him. To lose control in another aspect of his life. But he trusts you and he loves you.

☀️ And surprisingly, being so slow, gentle and loving to him, it felt amazing. Having you ride him, hands interlocked and meeting each other’s eyes.

☀️ His favorite part of you are your tits. Seeing them bounce as you ride him, needing to touch and feel them.

☀️ He whimpers and cries when he’s getting close, begging you not to stop. He’s clearly needy just by the way he’s grabbing onto any part of you that you let him.

☀️ When he’s more comfortable with being submissive, he’s whiny in his needs. Tugging at your gown anytime you two are alone, insisting he needs to at least have a look.

☀️ “Please, my love… Please! Just one look! Gods, you have no idea how much I crave you.”

☀️ Aegon’s hand would try to slip under your gown under the table at dinner, insist that only he needs to assist you in bathing which is definitely just an excuse to fuck, and just straight up jack off when you two are alone in your bedchamber, pleading for you to touch him.

☀️ Aegon could definitely cum with the punishment of only being able to hump at your leg. The humiliation of being so desperate gets him off like nothing else.

☀️ He can be bratty sometimes but it’s all purposeful. He wants you to punish him because you both know it leads to being tangled around each other in bed.

☀️ Oh, and Aegon is absolutely unashamed about being loud. The louder the better in his opinion. He wants everyone and anyone to know how fucking good you two fuck and for how long.

☀️ He’d leave whatever chamber you two were in with a smug grin, knowing that no one could match the passion you two share.

☀️ Aegon has average stamina and lasts as long as you edge him for. He could go 2-3 a times a day and still ask for more even when he’s a shaking mess.

☀️ Sit on this man’s face. Period. No questions asked. If he can breathe, he isn’t satisfied. Suffocate him entirely, clamp onto his head with your thighs and watch him eat you out like a starved madman.

☀️ Aegon is a whore for praise and he makes it known when he’s giving you head. He gets so easily pussy drunk it’s insane. His eyes are locked onto you, only parting from your swollen, abused cunt to hear how well he’s doing.

☀️ “My love… Please tell me how well I’m doing… I’m being good, am I not?”

☀️ One of his favorite things would be longer sessions where he’s blindfolded and completely up to your control. Have fun with waxplay and sensory deprivation and watch his cock twitch and leak precum at each touch.

☀️ Sometimes you’d wake up to him already rubbing his cock against your cunt, feeling the wetness already coating him. His forehead pressed to your back as he softly moaned. It’s so easy for him to get turned on when you’re so close to him.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#asoiaf #asoiaf headcanons #asoiaf x reader #hotd #hotd smut #hotd x reader #hotd headcanons #hotd imagine #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the elder #aegon x reader #aegon ii smut #aegon ii x reader #hotd x you #aegon ii headcanons

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 1 year

Text

Knight in Cowboy boots

Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Summary: emotions and buried feelings are reviled when Joel protects you from a drunk ex boyfriend

Warnings: SMUT (Minors DNI 18+ ONLY), Friends to lovers, pre-outbreak, alcohol, fighting, swearing, blood, fingering, p in v (unprotected), cream pie, pet names, maybe one Y/n I tried not to use any because I know some people don’t like it.

Word count: It’s long boo, lmao.

A/N: Y’all tumblr has some kind of hold on me because I read one Pedro Pascal fic and now I want him to pin me to the bed and have me call him daddy 😭 #hornyonmain if you like this check out my other stories for more spicy fun 🥰

Joel Miller Master List

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t know Sally, I just… how did I not see it? Everything was great, at least I truly thought it was…” You sigh, slumping back further into your friends couch, swirling the wine in your glass.

“I knew there was something wrong with him! He always seemed so sleazy.” Sally scoffs, crossing a long leg over the other, shaking her dirty blond hair.

“Your husband is the one that set me up with Michael.” You retort, propping your chin on your hand with a sigh, you stare out the window, the party in the house was at its peak, people from around the neighborhood mingling, laughing, and sharing a good time as you and your life long best friend discuss your most recent disaster at dating.

“I never said he was a smart man.” You snort, shaking your head when movement outside catches your attention. Your eyes widen slightly, spine straightening as you catch sight of your older neighbor walking towards the house. His hands are shoved into his pockets, head tilted down slightly as he walks. He only peaks up when he reaches the walk way, face illuminated in the moonlight.

Joel Miller. The man you’ve not so secretly pinned for since moving to this neighborhood two years ago.

Your head whips around to Sally, “You didn’t tell me Joel was coming!” You gape at your friend who just shrugs a thin shoulder, taking a sip of her drink with a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips.

“I didn’t?”

Of course Joel would be invited, he’s known Sally and Tim since they moved here and had become fast friends with the couple. You begin to fidget with your outfit, regretting wearing something so basic as you tug your top down slightly, displaying more of your assets. Sally snorts beside you. “To much?”

Before she can answer her husbands loud laugh fills the air followed by the clinking of beer bottles and other guests raised voices in greetings. You turn just as the two men walk through the living room’s archway and smile brightly when Joel’s chocolate eyes land on yours. “Hey there.”

“Hey there yourself, haven’t seen you around in a hot minute darlin’.” His draw makes something inside you tick, cheeks tinting pink as the two men sit in the arm chairs opposite of you and Sally.

“You know me, hard work no play.” Joel laughs at that, tilting his beer to his lips and you force your gaze to your glass, trying and failing to not look like you were checking him out as he stretches his long denim clad legs out in front of him.

“How’s Sarah?” Sally asks, giving you time to collect yourself, the sight of the man almost always turning you into a fumbling school girl.

“She’s good, over at a friends house right now.”

“Oh so it’s just you tonight?”

“Just me.” Joel doesn’t look to Sally when he answers, eyes trained on your flushed face drinking you in.

You all spend the next hour talking about work, life, family, all the minor things in between. It’s great, you’ve missed your friends, work prioritizing most of your free time more often than not, that you never have time for simple things like this.

“I’m going to pour myself another glass, does anyone need anything?” You ask as you stand, a simultaneous no resonates from the group, Joel smiling at you with a tilt to his head that makes your knees weak.

You find the kitchen deserted, everyone either out back enjoying the table top fire or have already left for the evening. You’re humming a tune to yourself, picking through the numerous bottles for something that looks good when an arm snakes around your waist.

Nearly jumping out of your skin you push the offending appendage away and spin around, coming face to face with your now ex-boyfriend Michael.

He definitely wasn’t invited.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss, stepping away only to collide with the counter top.

Michael laughs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His normally styled blond hair is tussled, blue eyes glazed over as he leers down at you. “Um, partying?” HIs words are slurred and he stinks of alcohol, your nose scrunching at the pungent smell.

“This isn’t that kind of party, and I don’t believe anyone invited you.” You glare up at him, nearly a foot of distance makes him taller and easier for him to crowed into your space when he takes a wobbly step closer.

“A party is always an invite. You know that sugartits.” The nickname makes you cringe, the feeling of being trapped between a drunk and a hard spot making you antsy. You and Michael dated for just under a year, everything was fine, fun, romantic even until his secret habit of getting too drunk and sticking his dick into anything with a nice set of tits came to light.

“You’re drunk, how the hell did you even get here? No no i don’t want to know, just get away from me and go home.” You move to push past him, anger and resentment bubbling in your guts, but the man in front of you has another idea.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?” Michael grabs your wrist, twisting until you yelp in pain. “You’d think after being with me for so long, you’d learn a little bit of respect, woman.” He shoves you into the counter, your side hitting the granite so hard you lose your breath. “Do I need to teach you a lesson?”

Fear takes root deep in your chest, freezing you to the spot as Michael's hand raises above his head, ready to strike you when a booming voice fills your ears, stopping him in his tracks.

"HEY!"

Michael's head whirls around, his grip lessoning, to find Joel and Tim standing in the doorway, Sally peeking from behind their shoulders.

“Back off man, we are having a private conversation.” Michael spits, teetering on his feet. Everything is tense and silent for a second, Joel’s eyes lock with yours, fear so clearly written across your face, and that’s all he needs.

The older man storms forward, arm back, and swings for Michael’s face, a direct hit that sends your ex stumbling backwards, freeing you as he covers his bleeding nose. You run to Sally’s open arms, and Joel doesn’t stop swinging, barely giving Michale time to react before he’s on the floor.

You’re crying, yelling for Joel to stop as Tim and another man rush forward, struggling to separate the two as a crowd forms at the patio door. By the time Joel is hauled away, the man lays limp on the ground, groaning unintelligibly. Joel's face is red, chest heaving, staring at Michael below him, shaking off the two men holding him.

“I see you around her again and it will be the last fucking thing you do.” Joel’s voice is haunting, sending shivers down your spine.

You push away from Sally, grabbing onto Joel's shirt with shaky fingers. He turns to you, the look of hatred melting into concern. "Are you okay?"

"Am- Am I okay?" You ask incredulously, eyebrows pinched.

“I think y’all should go, I’ll get him out of here just…” Tim is rightfully upset, hands in his hair as he stares down at his friend, blood splattered across the white tile of the kitchen, and the rest of the guests are visibly tense.

“I’m sorry Tim… it had to be done.”

Tim sighs, nodding but says nothing more. Joel nods back, flexing his hand by his side, before taking your arm turning you towards the door.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Is… Is your hand okay?” It’s the third time you’ve asked since getting to your house, this time peeking around the bathroom door with a cup of coffee for him. Joel insisted on cleaning himself up instead of your request to take him to the ER, when you saw how bloody and bruised his knuckles were.

“I’m sure darlin’. Don’t fret over me.” He holds up his hand, still bruising but no longer bleeding, wagging his fingers, showing you he’s alright, before wrapping some gauze and tape around it. You lean into the door frame, staring at the steam drifting up in front of you.

“I… I can’t thank you enough for what you did, Joel… I don’t know how I can repay you.” You feel meek and miserable for what happened, that anyone would get into a fight over you. You keep thinking about how you should of prevented it, instead of letting it go that far. “I’m so sorry it got to that point, I should have done something.”

Joel leans in beside you, brushing his fingers against your shoulder, gaining your attention. You glance up, caught off guard by how close he suddenly is, eyes warm and inviting like the heat radiating off of his body, this close you can see the gray streaks starting to pepper his hair and the lines of crow's feet by his eyes. “Don’t talk like you caused any of this. I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your heart flutters, a small smile twitching your lips as you dip your head again. “What a knight in shinning cowboy boots you are.” Teasingly, you poke his chest, unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze. Joel just smiles, taking the cup from your hands and turning to set it on the bathroom counter.

“I thought knights usually get a kiss for saving the damsel in distress.” His hand cups your cheek fully, tilting your head back up until you're forced to meet his eyes, his words sinking into your body, popping off your nerves like fire, setting you ablaze.

“That only happens in fairytales.” You breathe, relaxing into the stroke of his thumb along the apple of your cheek, watching his eyes dance back and forth between your own. Joel leans farther in, noses a hair width apart.

"How’s this for a fairytale?" His whispers all since of thought lost as he press forward, brushing your lips against his in the most tentative kiss that you barely registers it. You smile though inviting and wanting, and his hand slips to the back of your head drawing you deep.

Your eyelids droop, hands coming to rest on his chest, leaning in closer as heat coils low in your stomach, arousal swimming through your blood making you groggy and tipsy. His lips mold to your own perfectly, maybe a little chapped, the stubble of his beard bristling at your skin causing you to whimper. Joel pulls you further into the bathroom, leaning back into the counter bodies flushed as your hands slip to his neck, holding yourself to him.

In this moment it’s just you and him, the party is forgotten, the fight, the fear, the fucking blister on your ankle from walking two blocks in heels, is all forgotten. Joel doesn’t even care when he grips your waist with his injured hand, the gauze pulling tight across the cuts, scratching his palm, irritating and relentless but far out of his mind.

The kiss slowly turns more desperate, your fingers tangling into the hairs at the back of his head, his hips pressing against your own, and when he pulls away for air you’re kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck, having waited two years you weren’t passing up the opportunity now.

Joel groans softly, eyes pinched, need shooting through his body with every open mouth kiss you place. He wraps his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back gently earning a whimper of disappointment. You look up at him, eyes glazed over, arousal humming through your body so fiercely you think you might cry.

“Let me take you to bed, I ain’t waited this long to fuck you in a bathroom.” Your breath catches on a moan, a glimmer of defiance shooting through you as you eye him up and down. You can never make it easy for yourself.

“The bathroom is where most house hold accident happen.” You snip back, beaming as he rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in a suppressed smile.

“Why did I punch a guy for you again?” Your bark of laughter sends him over and he’s walking you out of the bathroom into the hall. “Bedroom.” You point over his shoulder and he’s lifting you off of your feet, wrapping your legs around his middle.

“B-because you were protecting my dignity?” You giggle, grabbing his face and peppering kisses across his lips and cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Joel smile this much, your heart feeling like it might burst just from the sight.

“Dignity… right.” He stops at the foot of your bed with a cheeky look that makes you raise an eyebrow.

“What are you thinking?”

His response is hoisting you higher before dropping you, unceremoniously onto the bed with a loud screech. “Joel!” You’re laughing, trying to scold him and failing miserably.

Joel climbs onto the bed above you, fitting himself between your legs and caging you, forearms resting on the mattress by your head. Your laughter sticks in your throat, heart rate picking up as the reality of situation settles over the two of you. “I can always take you to dinner first.” He jokes, hoping secretly that isn’t what you’d want.

“If you make me wait one more day Joel Miller I swear I will have a conniption.” You mock threaten wagging a finger in his face. He smiles, taking your hand and kissing your wrist gently.

“I’ll give you what you want baby.” His teeth nip your skin, staling your breath making your thighs squeeze his. “Yeah, I’ll give you what you want.” He breaths against your skin, goosebumps lifting the hairs on your arms.

You whimper slightly, breathy and thin, hooded eyes watching as he kisses up your arm and to your neck, forcing your head back so he has more room. He bites gently at your sweet spot, gauging how you react, which movement, kiss, or bite draws the most noise from your lips.

“Joel… mmmm…” Your hands slip under his shirt nails leaving a trail of red up his back that has his hips bucking slightly, groaning into your ear.

“Gonna be the death of me pretty girl, ya know that?” He asks, voice laced with arousal, leaning back to look at you under thick lashes as he bucks his hips against yours.

All you can do it whimper in response, bringing your lips to his and kissing him messily, all teeth, and spit like you both are horny teenagers all over again. Joel’s tongue slips into your mouth, taking dominance over your own and it makes you let out a noise that will be seared into Joel’s brain for the rest of his life.

He breaks away suddenly, ripping his shirt over his head and you’re following suit, shimming out of the tight material letting it fall to the floor as your hands find the expanse of his chest. He has defined muscles, years of manual labor under his skin that makes your mouth water, his body just a little softer with age but an underlying strength you’ve already witnessed twice tonight. The man is gorgeous.

“Need you Joel… please I need you.” You beg, trailing your hands down to his jeans tugging at the rough material, earning a chuckle.

“We’ve got all night, darlin. No need to rush.” He scolds mockingly, his own fingers working at the button of your skirt, yanking it over your ass and down your legs. He stops to take you in, hands pressing your hips down, thumbs brushing over the elastic of your simple black cotton panties. “Fuck… you’re beautiful.”

And you’re spinning in drunken bliss from those two words, Joel Miller thinks you are beautiful.

“Up.” He commands and who are you to say no? Your panties join the pile, bra following shortly after, until you are laid out, bare and vulnerable before him.

And Joel takes his time, thorough with his exploration, caressing your body with burning hands. His palms cup your breasts, tweaking your nipple gently, watching your reaction for what feels the best before moving on. Hands smooth down the valley of your soft stomach, kneading your flesh, making you shiver and squirm.

“Don’t go running away from me now.” He whispers, cupping your ass and dragging you closer, legs spread wide over his hips. You keen, the apex of your desire pulsing from being manhandled to where he wants you, and Joel notices with a dark smirk.

His hands slip down the inside of your thighs and you hold your breath, desperate to feel him touch you where you want him the most. And when he does, callused thumb swiping through your soaked lips, your back bows, eyes closing as a near pornographic moan flys from your mouth.

“J-Joel…” you gasp, his thumb circling your clit before dipping back down pressing into your opening. “Ah… please… please…” Bucking your hips you search for more friction, whining into the air head pressing into the mattress.

“Such manners.” You whimper louder as the muscles in your stomach tighten, catching your lip between your teeth. “Does that mean you’re gonna be a good girl for me? Do as I say?”

“Yes… yes, I’ll be good, Joel.” You whine, warm embarrassment filling your belly, hands curling into the blankets below you. Joel smiles watching your hips twitch as he swipes his thumb back up circling your clit again before sinking a thick finger into your heat, your slick walls clamping around him. The moan you let out goes straight to his cock, making it twitch and push against the confines of his jeans.

“Yeah… I know you will be.” He whispers, adding another finger, pumping into you slowly, curling his fingers searching for that mark that will have you melting underneath him. “So tight baby, have to stretch you out if you wanna take my cock.” He presses his hand down on your stomach, trapping you as his thumb rubs circles into your clit, his fingers working faster and you mewl and cry his name, punctuated with a few ‘yess’ and ‘please’

Joel hits a spot deep inside your gummy walls that’s leaving you breathless, pussy starting to spasm as he draws you towards your orgasm faster than you’ve ever experienced before. He keeps that same pace, flexing his fingers, hurtling you towards the peak of your orgasm.

“Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” You beg, eyes shut tight, knuckles white, body flushing with white heat, making your jaw go slack, thighs shaking uncontrollably as you teeter on the edge.

He leans over you, warm breath against your lips, thumb working your clit harder. “Cum for me darlin, soak my fingers. Take what you want.”

And your body obeys, the band snapping in your stomach making you cry his name. He keeps his steady pace, marveling at the pink straining your checks and chest, the clench of your cunt around his fingers, and the way you say his name like a prayer. Joel is completely wrapped.

“Good girl, that’s right baby.” He whispers, coaxing you through your orgasm only relenting when you whimper wiggling your hips to try and get away. He brings his fingers to his lips, sucking your release from his skin with a groan. “You taste so much better than I ever imagined.”

You’re only able to whine a soft response, languid and docile below him. It’s only when you hear his zipper do you open your eyes. “There she is.” He’s kicking off his pants and boxers, your eyes drop to his cock stiff and angry red, your mouth flooding with spit, lifting your head to take in the view before you. He’s big, big and thick with a bed of black hair at the base, a bead of precum already leaking out of his tip and you’re stomach tightens in delight.

“You’re handsome.” Your voice is hoarse laced with ecstasy and foreign to your own ears.

His eyes widen slightly before he smiles, tan skin blushing. You reach for him then, hands slipping behind his neck and dragging him down into a deep kiss, stealing his breath and groaning at the taste of him and yourself mixed together.

Joel’s arm slips under your shoulders, his bandages hand cradling the back your head as his hips rut into your own. You gasp against his lips, the tip of his cock nudging your sensitive clit, your warm release coating him making him groan. “D’ya… do I need to grab somethin’?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I-if you wanna, I’m … I’m on the pill though and I’m clean.”

“Fucking Christ.”

Joel angles his hips, the head of his cock slipping to your entrance and nudging forward. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips, nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes forward, sinking into you with one slow thrust that has you breathless and reeling at the feeling of being so stretched, so fucking full.

“O-oh God Joel.” You breath, clinging to him. Joel groans, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the friction and pull overwhelming and yet not enough. “Please… Please Joel.” You’re begging, you want to wake up tomorrow and know exactly who made you feel so good with each step and wince.

Joel just groans, picking up on the rut of your hips and presses down closer, his weight welcoming and restricting all at one. “Hold on to me.” With that he sets a deep, hard rhythm, the head of his cock bruising your cervix with the snap of his hips against your thighs. Your bed creaking with the force he uses to drive himself into you with, your name spilling from his lips.

“Fuck… So good baby, feel so good around my cock.” Joel moans, burying his face in the junction of your neck. He bites at your shoulder, marking the skin making you whine into the air, your breath being punched from your lungs. You can already feel your next orgasm building up inside you, muscles clamping down on his cock making him groan and stutter in his pace.

“So-so good, d-don’t want you to stop.” You’ve been broken down to a pleading mess, your slick coating not only his cock but dripping down onto his balls, and pooling on to the sheets below you. Your nails are biting his skin, leaving crescent idents on his neck and shoulders that he will proudly wear when they bruise over. “M… I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you pretty girl.” He grunts into your ear, his hands moving down between your bodies to find your clit, pressing tight circles into the bundle of nerves that has you withering below him, heels digging into his ass. Your lips are in that perfect O shape, eyebrows pinched and breathy moans filling your room. Joel sits back, slipping his arm to your lower back and holding you tight as he pounds into you, your hands gripping his arms for any form of leverage.

You scream his name, the sound bouncing off the walls as your orgasm rips through you, seizing ahold of your muscles and washing over your brain making you go blank and stiff in Joel’s hold. your pussy squeezing and milking his cock just right pulling his own orgasm from him with a low growl. He stills, hips twitching as he spills inside you, milky release filling you, warming you and spilling around his cock mixing with your own release.

“Fuck… shit…” Joel’s panting, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Oh baby… you’re gonna fuckin kill me.”

You pant out a small giggle, coming down from your high, thighs still twitching lightly as your brain slowly comes back to you. Joel pulls out gently, a small his through his teeth as he falls onto the bed beside you trying to catch his breath. Cracking open your eyes you stair at your ceiling for a moment, you reach across your sheets, fingers brushing against his.

Joel laces his fingers through yours, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, kissing gently. “That… that was…”

“Amazing.” You chuckle, curling into his side content and tired, body relaxing into his as sleep clouds your mind. Joel hums in agreement, the steadiness of your breathing lulling him to into his own dreamless sleep.

The end

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 9 months

Note

do you think you could write where reader is a part of the BAU and gets kidnapped/ hurt by an unsub and spencer saves her? much love and i love your fics!

Hi! Thanks so much for your request. I'll admit this took a bit more brain power than usual 💀 may have gotten slightly carried away creating an unsub lmao

Summary: You go undercover for a case and Reid keeps you company through online messages, only to feel absolutely worthless when you go missing.

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kidnapping and abuse of Y/N, Reid self-deprecating again but it has a happy fluffy ending so a win.

My Requests are Open! Send me an ask if you want me to write something~ 💕 And check out My Masterlist!

“Y/N, what do you think? I’m not going to send you in if you’re not confident you can complete the mission.'' Your Unit Chief, Aaron Hotchner, was briefing you on the plan. Luckily for the team, or rather, unluckily for you, you fit the victim profile of your latest case, and with an absence of leads, your last chance to get him before he took another victim was an undercover mission.

“I can do it, but can we establish a background in enough time? He’s devolving and he’s going to need to pick up another victim pretty soon.”

You’d been called in to consult on the case two weeks prior. Local women who lived alone in the metropolitan area had been going missing on a weekly basis for the last three months, and the BAU team had been called in when they’d finally found the dump site of the first three victims.

You’d so far managed to figure out how he was finding his victims from their home computers - a site for young women to look for sugar daddies. You’d previously profiled him as a man in his mid-40s who was going through a personal loss and was lashing out at women who represented someone specific to him, and after searching through the dating profiles, you were pretty sure his stressor was a recent or impending divorce.

But try as Garcia might, these dating websites had a whole lot more encoded data than was expected, and after the Ashley Madison scandal of the previous decade, they’d taken to deleting the majority of their user data regularly so that certain accounts couldn’t be found. Which meant that you were left with a geographical profile you couldn’t pin down, a profile that could match half the men in the city, and a killer that was almost ready to strike again.

“Garcia can get something ready for you in the next 8 hours, and we have some access to some FBI safehouses in the area that we can ready in at the same time. Go get yourself prepared for cover.”

And that’s how you found yourself living in a dingy studio apartment on the south side of the city for two days, waiting to report back about whatever men approached you. There wasn’t much for you to complain about, but you were getting pretty lonely.

You’d greeted your new neighbors and made a show of attending some ‘new to the neighborhood’ events, making sure to get out and about to let the team assess if the unsub was stalking you. Other than that you’d spent the rest of your time in your apartment a constant tab open at the sugar baby website. A few men had been interested, and your computer was cloned and running simultaneously on Garcia’s system so the team could do their best to track suspicious accounts.

The rest of your spare time was, surprisingly enough, spent messaging Spencer Reid. You’d been on the team now for three months, joining the team as a transfer from the blue collar division you’d worked in straight out of the academy. You had spent the same amount of time doing your best to gain confidence to work in the field. Sure, you’d trained for this, but theory and practice were so different and you really didn’t want to fuck up so early into your job.

Which is why, you supposed, that Doctor Spencer Reid was so intimidating to you. Though he admittedly wasn’t the best at field work, noting the amount of exceptions the FBI had to make to allow him outside of the office at all on your first meeting, he was just so damned competent. With three PhD’s, three BA’s and a pending fourth on the way, he was the golden child of the BAU, and you found yourself desperate for his approval. It surely didn’t help that he was also your exact type to boot, and sometimes you found yourself conflicted if you wanted his approval because he was so good at his job or because he was go goddamn good-looking.

With no way to know how the unsub was tracking his victims before he kidnapped them, your team theorized it was unsafe to have physical check-ins, opting instead to set up another account on the sugar baby website, that would be manned around the clock. And tech-averse Reid had volunteered to do the bulk of the manning, leaving you with all the time in the world to talk to him in your private chat room.

sug4rbbY/N: Good evening, Doctor, got any interesting facts for me today? ;)

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Did you know that it is illegal to flirt in Haddon Township, New Jersey? Under the section “Peace and Good Order,” a person may be punished for approaching “any person of the opposite sex unknown to such person and by word, sign or gesture attempts to speak to or to become acquainted with such person against his will.”

sug4rbbY/N: Well, aren’t I glad that we do not live in New Jersey then.

D0ct0rD0ct0r: There’s more where that came from if you’re ever interested.

sug4rbbY/N: I’ll certainly keep that in mind.

sug4rbbY/N: Any plans for the evening, doc?

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Just sitting here talking to you :)

sug4rbbY/N: All by yourself? ;)

D0ct0rD0ct0r: Never feel like I’m alone when you’re online.

sug4rbbY/N: Haha that’s sweet.

sug4rbbY/N: BRB, Doc, my doorbell’s ringing.

You stood up from your desk, a glance at the mirror betraying your feelings, as your flush was prominent. You weren’t sure if it was the intimate nature of the messaging system, or just for the sake of your cover, but the flirty tone of your messages had certainly been leaving you wondering if there could be more to your relationship with your coworker in the future.

You quickly walked over to the door, opening it wide and came face to face with a bouquet of flowers.

“Miss Y/N Harper?” the man behind the bouquet used your cover name to address you, and you hesitated a little before nodding in the affirmative. “Can you sign here please? It’s standard procedure for deliveries like this.”

“But I didn’t order any flowers…” you took the bouquet from the man and grabbed the pen in his hand ready to sign.

“Oh yeah, our shop specialises in anonymous flowergrams. That bunch you’ve got in your hand has some aconite, some white lilies and jasmine flowers.” The delivery man explained, and something in your gut twisted as you listened to his words.

“But aren’t lilies usually meant for funera-” you didn’t get to finish because he had pushed a wet rag to your face, and you had just enough time to shake some small petals off and push them far enough underneath a nearby shoe storage unit before you faded into unconsciousness, your last thought a prayer that your team would uncover your clue.

–x–

Needless to say, when you didn’t check back in a few minutes later, Spencer had alerted every cop in the vicinity of your new apartment that you were gone, and they discovered your apartment empty within ten minutes.

“She was right there,” Spencer ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She was talking to me and then she just got up and he took her.”

“Reid, calm down, she can’t have been gone long, and we have security cameras all over the building. We’ll find her.” Morgan reassured the younger male while searching the entrance of your cover apartment for clues.

“That’s easy for you to say, it isn’t your fault that she’d gone.”

“And it isn’t yours either, Reid. You did your job, but he wasn’t going to stop until he had her.”

“I should’ve notified the standby officers as soon as she sent through that last message and what was I doing instead? Trying to figure out if she was flirting with me for real or not. I’m pathetic.”

“Reid, get your head back in the game. She’s gone and theres nothing you can do to change that now, but we need your head here or we’re not going to find her. Y/N’s an agent too, remember, she can hold her own. Now look and think.”

“SSA Morgan, Doctor Reid, we may have something over here,” one of the local detectives called the two men over. They’d found the remnants of the petals you’d done your best to scatter, and even though the unsub had taken the bouquet with him, he hadn’t been as thorough as he should have been.

“We didn’t set her up with any flowers when she started her cover, so these must have been bought in by the unsub. I’ll call Garcia, tell her to look for any flower shops within his comfort zone.” Morgan hit the number on his speedial, but before he could start, Reid cut him off.

“Wait, I think we can narrow the search a bit further. Those are Aconite petals, they’re not often stocked by local florists because they have a pretty sinister meaning. They’re usually used to express hatred for the receiver, and because of their poisonous properties most florists don't stock them for fear of doing harm and causing lawsuits. He must be specifically ordering them in to give to his victims. Garcia, can you crossreference the list of florists in the area and check to see how many of them have purchased this plant recently?”

“Just the one. Sending you the address now. Go find our girl Doc.”

–X–

When you came to, in what you assumed to be a backroom of some kind of flower shop, you were bound at the ankles and wrists and there was a gag in your mouth. You struggled a bit against your bindings but it was no good, and you had to reassure yourself that you were going to be okay, doing your best to push down the tears and clear your head.

You decided your best bet was to get to know your surroundings, check to see what was around you and what you could use to your advantage. There was a clock on the wall, and you realised that you’d only been gone half an hour. Reminding yourself that the unsub kept his victims for a minimum of two days did a lot to get your heartbeat back to a normal pace, but it spiked again as soon as you heard the door slam open and your captor walk in.

“Stupid little bitch,” he slurred his words slightly and you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he moved closer to your space in the corner. You tried your best to scamper as far away from him as possible, but he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you up to his face.

You winced at the pain and tried to squirm out of his hold. “Look at you all pathetic now, begging me to let you out. It’s not going to fucking happen, y'know. I’m going to be the last person you see, last person you hear,” he throws you against the wall, pinning you up with his hand on your arms as he sends a leering glance down your shirt and then gives you a disgusting grin. “Last person you touch.”

Your bindings mean your movement is limited, but you still manage to bring both your legs up to knee him in the groin, effectively pushing him off you but landing hard on the ground yourself after you manage to do so.

“Fucking whore,” he shouts at you standing up and dealing a sharp kick to your head that has your vision going white for a minute. “I’ll teach you to fucking mess with me again, you little bitch.” He makes to grab you again, but before he can you hear the blissful sounds of a door being kicked down and the shouts of the FBI to stand down.

Two agents are on him in minutes and you finally allow yourself to let out a deep sob in relief, as a third, very recognisable agent, makes his way to your side.

“Y/N, shhh baby, it’s okay. You’re okay now, I’ve got you,” Reid whispers in your ear as he unties you as gently and carefully as he can. The moment your arms are free you leap into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your face deeply against his chest. He pulls away just enough to untie your legs, and then lets you burrow into him again.

“I knew you’d find me. Knew you’d understand something from those fucking flowers.” You sob into his chest now, as he strokes your hair, just holding you like that on the floor until you’re ready to move.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve sent someone to check sooner, and I should’ve never let you accept that stupid cover mission,this is my fault and I'm going to make it up to you. I'm never going to let anyone hurt you ever ag-” he begins rambling but you shut him up again, this time by firmly pressing your lips into his.

“Before you say anything else, this is not transference and I’m not doing this because you saved me, we both know I would’ve done that eventually anyway,” you rest your forehead against his, and after he has time to process what has just happened, he’s wiping the tears away from your face, and gently holding it with both of his hands, leaning in to do it again, gently pressing his mouth against yours as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second.

“Thank you, again. For finding me,” you whisper to him, the space between you so miniscule now that you barely had to move your lips to know that he understood you.

“Thank you, for letting me find you.” He grinned at you and held you again, determined to never let you out of his arms ever again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom

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loveyourownsmiilee · 3 months

Text

Ok my speculation for what I think those new photos are about and what may be in store for us in terms of Buddie.

I’m fully on the train that Eddie had his full on moment of realization in the graveyard when speaking to Buck. You can see the moment in his facial expression where something clicks and alters his brain chemistry. Especially considering he looks at Buck slightly a bit different after that moment. But it was the wrong time because Buck was speaking about Natalia and how happy he was bla bla. So of course that put a damper on Eddie’s newly realized feelings, hence the need to get out there and start dating again right after that whole thing. He literally went out and put himself out there to find someone and done it in a somewhat urgent matter. Almost as if he’s a man trying to get over someone quick. That’s why the moment he ran into someone he kinda knew, he wanted to take that risk and give it a shot, regardless of whether or not they had organic chemistry or not.

Now we know the season ended with Buck making things official with Natalia and Eddie starting something new with Marisol. So this new season should bring forth these two men in their respective relationships. However due to the actress who plays Natalia being in a play til mid March, something tells me it’s likely she’s not coming back. Which means a probable off screen break up. Now why do I think that’s more than likely?

Well look at this photo of Eddie and Buck (it doesn’t look like Bobby to me).

Eddie has never once touched anyone’s shoulder like that other than Buck’s (and also Christopher’s). Not only is the touch so natural and familiar to other scenes like that, but also his eyes are fully soft and you can actually see the hearts in them. Something tells me it’s a scene of Buck and Eddie in the locker room with a sad Buck who is upset over another failed relationship. The stance and the touch with the soft look that Eddie’s giving clearly shows he’s reassuring Buck of something. What else would he be reassuring him about other than the fact that he will find his person eventually. He’s probably giving him a pep talk and reassuring all of his doubts and you can tell it’s being done in such a lovely, soft manner that is so Eddie to his core.

Then the other photo with Buck and Christopher. Idk why but my immediate thought was that Buck is babysitting Chris while Eddie’s on a date with Marisol. Even though we ended the season with Christopher being supportive of his father asking her out, we all know how he didn’t take well to Eddie dating again the first time. Maybe he’s upset with the lack of family time or maybe it’s something else but Buck doesn’t look too happy about whatever they’re discussing either. Maybe both of them are sad about not spending enough time with Eddie and them as a family unit.

And the reason I have for that is because even in the little glimpse we saw of the trailer, we see Eddie once again looking exasperated and struggling with something while he’s talking to Buck. We’ve seen that same reaction from him when he was dating Ana. And Buck has his little fake passive aggressive smile like he’s trying to be supportive but he’s jealous over Eddie literally talking about another female. We’ve seen this happen many times especially last season.

Now all this to say that I don’t think Eddie and Marisol are going to last very long. I think Eddie’s going to realize it’s just not working with her because she’s not who he needs as a life partner. Simultaneously I see Buck finally working on himself and really sitting down to contemplate why all his relationships have failed thus far. I can actually see this season finally being one where Buck finally realizes the things he has been searching for a partner for years has always been in front of him. I think it’s the season for eye opening realizations for him and I really hope to see what it brings forth for both him and Eddie. I also hope this season brings them closer as a family unit than ever before.

#buddie #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 speculation #god I’m sorry I had to get this out

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chrollohearttags · 10 months

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could you provide us with more gay bestie armin? i need more about him slutting his bestie out or vise versa 😩👀👀

oh 🤭 I sure can. I literally cannot stop thinking about this?

content warning: fingering, spit play, mentions of waxing, pussy slapping, oral sex (m.receiving), slight hair pulling

hanging out with armin was always so much fun. The two of you would regularly have outings, spending as much time as possible together when permitted. Going to Starbucks, clothes shopping, clubbing and you guys’ personal favorite? The spa! Walking around in fluffy robes, getting your shoulders and back rubbed on..it was relaxing. You loved that he was the type of friend that was down to be pampered alongside you. Up keeping your self care maintenance was an entire ordeal; spending half the day there just to get yourself right and Armin patiently and happily waited. Especially because he’d be the first one to enjoy it all…

“Back in your mouth, there you go…”

because the second you made it home, he’d have you in his bedroom. Sprawled out on the mattress, legs spread midair and white toes curled as he plunged his freshly manicured digits deep inside of you. Buried to the knuckle as he kneaded them around in that tightness..honestly, he couldn’t stand it. The fact that you had allowed men who didn’t even bother to clip their nails or do any sort of maintenance fuck without so much of a second thought. He hadn’t even had that much experience with women and yet, he knew that much. It was just common sense! And with a pussy as pretty and slippery as yours, it deserved the utmost care. So he’d continue curling those fingers upward and pressing on your g-spot.

“A-ah! Mmphmmm..”

“You’re so cute…that face you make when you’re about to come..it’s adorable.”

meanwhile, you were mumbling around his shaft; your mouth stuffed with all eight inches of him as you sucked him off..simultaneously pleasuring one another like you had done so many nights before. After failed Tinder and Grindr dates; dealing with men who didn’t deserve either of you. So it was far more satisfying to touch one another..

“Stick your tongue out, gorgeous..I got it.”

using you as his own personal fleshlight..slowly and gently fucking your throat as you bogged yourself down to meet his thrusting hand. His hand resting on top of your head and guided you along. You sure were doing a better job than his last hookup. That much apparent by the loud grunts leaving his mouth. He was close..shaft faintly thumping between your lips as you licked around the tip. But your inevitable climax was even closer and before you knew it, you’d find yourself flooding his sheets; splashes of clear fluids flying everywhere..spasming on pure air as he coaxed out that clear cum; slapping your clit and sticky folds. He’d even pull out of your jaws just to hear those sweet moans. He was met with whimpering and laughing as he glared down at you proudly.

“Shit…that was fun.”

giggling as he met you with a sloppy tongue kiss and spit trickling down your tongue. You could get used to this..and truthfully, didn’t even need anyone else with him around. Shoving his fingers into your mouth, he’d allow you clean them off as he smirked.

“Oh we’re not done. I gotta have a taste of that too.”

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141goblin · 13 days

Text

Soft: Chapter two.

CW: Mention of body image, reader feels inferior to her best friend. Slightly suggestive.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part one, i’m so glad people like my writing. It’s heavily self indulgent so it makes me very happy to know it resonates with people other than me🥰

—>Part one

After a little encouragement from Johnny and the rest of my martini, I find myself stood in front of the group of men and Amelia as her and Johnny both introduce me to his friends. I got a wink and a “Nice to meet you, lovely” from Gaz, a firm handshake and a “Pleasure” from Simon…

“And this is Price, our Captain.”

The wide man smiles warmly and gives me a nod.

“Pleasure to meet you, dove.”

I give him a sweet smile and something between and a nod and an awkward bow/curtsy. Why the fuck am I curtsying? Jesus christ, I need another drink already. I feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment but luckily, no one mentions it. They either didn’t notice or decide not to mention it. Either way, I don’t care.

Everyone begins to engage in small talk, leaving me stood there in the awkward predicament of being part of the group, but not being part of the conversation. I feel so ridiculous and out of place, like a child that’s stood with a group of adults, unable to join in on their conversation. I pretend like I don’t care and politely excuse myself and walk towards the exit.

I walk outside and sit down on the stone bench, my feet already aching because of my stupid heels, the cold night air nipping at my skin that simultaneously feels too hot because of the amount of alcohol i’ve consumed.

I rummage around in my handbag and pull out my half-empty packet of cigs that I save for when I drink. I always insist that i’m not a smoker, yet the minute I get a few drinks in my system, i’m puffing away like a chimney, making my breath stink. I light up and inhale it deep, feeling the all too familiar burn in my lungs. The smoke curls up into the night air as I exhale, leaving a ribbon of grey in front of me.

I think back to Amelia and how effortlessly pretty she looks, how she’s able to command everyone’s attention just by walking into a room. She doesn’t have to worry about what she looks like 24/7, she doesn’t have to worry about meeting someone in person for the first time after talking on a dating app and feeling terrified of being rejected and being labelled a ‘catfish’ because they didn’t know I was fat from my pictures. I know it’s not her fault, I know that. But deep down, there’s a bitterness, right in the pit of my stomach. She’s gorgeous, she doesn’t have to even try. The bitterness festers and claws at my insides on nights like this, where i’m left alone to entertain myself while she’s off with Johnny or her other friends. I sound like a child, i’m fully aware of that, but still, I feel it. Deep down in my stomach, a dull ache for more, a longing, a yearning to be that girl. Just as i’m stewing in my own grumpiness and general bitterness, I hear the rumble of a deep voice behind me.

“You alright, dove?”

Normally, i’d make an effort to impress a man like him. He’s handsome, too fucking handsome for his own good. Normally, i’d stub out my cigarette and sit up straight to hide the rolls of my stomach that protrude when I sit comfortably. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine, thanks.”

Clipped, short, blunt. A subtle hint for him to leave me alone. He either ignores it or is too stupid to pick up on it, because he sits down beside me. Thighs spread, one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around a cigar.

“Not a fan of parties like this, I take it?”

I scoff and flick some ash off the end of my cigarette before taking another deep puff, letting it fill my lungs, the stench of tobacco creating a cloud around me.

“You could say that.”

He laughs, his broad shoulders shaking up and down, the sound rumbly and deep, settling into my bones. He raises his cigar to his lips and takes a drag, the brown cylinder hissing and glowing red at the tip as he sucks. His voice is thick with smoke when he speaks.

“Mm, I get it. Not for everyone.”

I’ve either had too much to drink, am at the end of my tether, or just feel way too comfortable with this man, because what comes next is an outburst, an angry rant.

“I mean, is it for anyone other than rich arseholes or people who have been dragged into it by those rich arseholes? Groups of people pretending to be something they’re not, just to impress each other. I don’t get it. Fucking ridiculous if you ask me. I’d much rather be curled up on my couch with a shit bottle of wine and a takeaway than be here but I couldn’t say no to Amelia. Pain in the arse…”

I expected him to defend the party, or make some excuse that it’s a chance for like-minded people to ‘network’ or some ridiculous bullshit. But, to my surprise, he just laughs again. A warm, rumbling sound that makes me want to press my ear to his chest. I huff and cross my arms over my chest, glaring out into the night, the grassy courtyard scattered with multiple bush-sculptures, or whatever they’re called.

“Feel better, dove?”

I huff and laugh and hum in response. He gives me a tap on the thigh and stands up.

“I’ll be inside, if you decide to stay. I hope your night gets better, dove.”

I give him my best attempt at a warm smile and then he disappears inside again. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the festering bitterness and grumpiness. I should be inside, with my best friend. I stand up, feeling the ache of my heels and walk back inside to the ballroom, putting on a happy face. I spot Amelia, Johnny, Gaz and Simon at a table towards the front so I make my way over. Amelia gives me a concerned look, a silent ask of ‘You okay?’ and I just nod, dismissing it. I’m not getting into it, not here, not now.

A waiter appears and places a blueberry martini in front of me, without me even having to ask and i’ve never been so grateful. I take a large, burning swig and turn to the group with feigned confidence.

“So, what’d I miss?”

Johnny turns to me without taking his eyes off the stage, where a few people are setting up a microphone and some speakers.

“The birthday boy is about to make his big speech. Should be a good one, better than last year.”

The lads share a few knowing laughs, like they’re all giggling over an inside joke, and i’m about to ask what’s funny when a familiar, gravelly voice talks through the microphone and out of the speakers.

“If I could just have your attention for a minute or two-“

Fuck. Sake.

“Just want to say a quick thank you to all of you for coming to celebrate my birthday with me tonight. It’s lovely to see see you all. I hope you all enjoy your night and make complete use of the bar. Behave yourselves”

If there was ever a time I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, it’d be now. I went on a big, angry rant to the poor man minutes previously, completely ignorant to the fact that the entire reason this party is taking place is because it’s his fucking birthday. I’ve never felt more like a dickhead in all my life, and i’m certain my face is bright red. Price raises a glass and speaks again.

“To us rich arseholes, at least pretend to be on your best behaviour, eh? Here’s to a good night.”

He ends the speech echoing my previous words with a wink in my direction and I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I must’ve sounded like some entitled, bitchy woman who thinks she’s above rich, fancy parties. I knew i’d never have a chance with a man like him anyway, but now any flicker of hope there was has been completely stubbed out by my own angry words, fuelled by alcohol and bitterness towards being the ‘single, fat friend’.

I down the rest of my martini in an attempt to hide my beetroot-red face and embarrassment, despite the fact that my head is already a little fuzzy and clouded by the way i’ve been chugging blueberry martinis like my life depends on it. Luckily, no one notices my embarrassment and Price goes off to mingle with other people rather than coming back to our table, so I don’t have to confront him. I make a silent ‘thank-you’ to whoever is up there in the sky, whether it be god or some other deity.

The next few hours go by without any more embarrassments, thank god. I do my best to engage in small talk with the lads while simultaneously avoiding Price. I should apologise, I know that, but I doubt he wants to see me. Or hear my whining voice ever again. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he cut me off and tell me it was his fucking birthday to save me the embarrassment of going off on some pathetic rant about ‘rich arseholes’? Why am I such a fucking idiot?

I excuse myself from the group and go back to the bar to order another drink. Except this time, I order a glass of water along with my martini. Arguably the only good decision i’ve made all night. No, the only good decision i’ve made in a long time. I plop myself down on the same tiny barstool as a few hours previous and take a few swigs of water to try and sober up a little and cool myself down. My hair has gone from being up in a bun and cute-messy, to being free and wild, cascading down my back. I don’t even remember undoing it, but i’m past the point of caring. My face is flushed, my eyes are glassy and my lipstick is faded and the tiniest bit smudged. A whole mess.

I force my thoughts away from considering the mess i’ve become over the course of the night and I look over to Amelia and the group of lads. Before I even have time to register that Price has joined the group, my stomach drops. He’s looking right at me with a fucking smirk on his face. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I’d probably think it was the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen. My face immediately blushes scarlet and I discard the glass of water for my martini. If i’m gonna get through this night with any semblance of dignity, I won’t be doing it sober. I debate getting up and sucking up my pride to apologise for being such a bitch. But then, what if he just laughs in my face and everyone else sees how much of a whiny child I was? Yeah, better not do that.

Amelia seems to notice him staring right at me because in a matter of seconds, she’s following his gaze and then walking over to me, that determined look on her face. She knows somethings going on, and she will demand to know.

“Okay, what the fuck. Did you and birthday boy get it on in the toilets or something without me knowing?”

I scoff and roll my eyes, not meeting her gaze and pouring some more blueberry flavoured courage down my throat.

“Obviously not, Amelia.”

She shakes her head and sits on the stool next to me, determined to get to the bottom of my awkward behaviour.

“Okay, listen. Me and you are gonna get out of here and go back to your apartment with a bottle of your favourite shit wine and we can talk all about it. I can tell you’re not enjoying yourself and I wanna know what’s going on. Gimme five minutes, i’ll be back and then we’re leaving.”

Before I can argue and tell her it’s okay, she’s going back to the group of lads and giving Johnny a kiss goodbye. It’s times like these where i’m reminded why she’s my best friend. She can read my feelings without me having to say a word, and she does truly care about me, even if my stupid little brain tries to convince me otherwise.

I leave the rest of my martini and make my way outside to have a cigarette while I wait for her. It’s well into the night now and considerably colder, and i’m mentally cursing myself for not wearing a jacket. I pull out another cigarette from my handbag and take a deep, long drag. The same burn, the same stench, the same short-lived relief. Just as i’m about to exhale-

“Leaving so soon, dove?”

For fuck sake. Why does this man have to show up at the worst times?

“Afraid so.. Past my bedtime.”

Again, the man laughs. Now, I know i’ve had too much to drink because I feel the warm, rumbly sound deep in my core, between my thighs. I don’t turn around to look at him, I can’t face him. I think i’ll die of embarrassment if I do.

I feel the warmth of something get draped around my shoulders, and the scent of spices and smoke mixed with expensive cologne. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to this man and here he is being chivalrous and giving me his jacket. I say nothing, but i’m grateful for the warmth.

“Hm. Shame. I quite enjoyed that little rant of yours.”

He’s doing in on purpose, i’m sure of it. He’s giving subtle digs to make me feel like even more of an idiot. It’s now when I spin on my heels to face him. I need to apologise. Now or never.

“Listen, about that.-“

“No need to apologise, dove. I liked the honesty. Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

Just like that, i’m rendered speechless. I was expecting him to brush me off or belittle me or even scold me. But no. He’s giving me compliments like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I’m stuttering and fumbling over my words when Amelia walks about and grabs my hand, seemingly oblivious to the situation and pulling me into an uber. I get in, still speechless and head spinning. Is my head spinning because of the countless martinis I guzzled or because of him? I don’t know, and I can’t figure it out.

Amelia and I make it back to my apartment as we immediately kick off our shoes and crack open a bottle of shit wine and immediately I feel comfortable, i’m in my own space, drinking my favourite cheap wine with my best friend. Not surrounded by people I don’t know In some huge fucking mansion.

Amelia sits on the other end of the couch, legs intertwined with mine as she sips on the wine and gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to fill her in on tonight’s details.

“So… I went outside for a smoke and Captain Guy followed and sat down next to me. He asked if I was enjoying myself and I said no and went on a big rant, talking about how the only people that enjoy parties like that are rich arseholes and blah blah blah…”

I conveniently leave out the part at the end where he gave me his jacket and called me ‘soft and beautiful’. Which reminds me, I still have his jacket. I make a mental note to give it Johnny so he can give it back to him at some point.

Amelia’s eyes widen and she laughs.

“No way! Is that why he started talking about ‘rich arseholes’ in his speech?”

I nod, my face contorted into shame and embarrassment. Of course, Amelia thinks this is hilarious and nearly chokes on her wine.

“I felt like such a prat. It was the poor man’s birthday and here I am, basically calling him a rich arsehole…”

Amelia’s laughter dies down and she gives me a sympathetic look and a pat on the thigh.

“Girl, don’t even worry. He thought it was funny. Seemed interested in you. Even asked what your name was.”

My eyes instantly widen at the prospect of a man like Price being interested in a woman like me. I’m not exactly everyones cup of tea, i’m a big girl, rough around the edges, basically a hot mess on a good day.

“He what?!”

Amelia sports a shit-eating grin and nods, like she’s satisfied with herself.

“I swear. He came back inside and started asking about you.”

My face blushes like a fucking idiot and I have to bury my face in my hands. Since when did I become the type to get flustered and giddy over a man? Especially a man i’ve met once, and once only. But damn, what a man he is. That voice, broad shoulders, strong arms, thick thighs, strong hips…

The topic of conversation changes away from Price to Johnny and part of me feels grateful, though his words are still bouncing around my head like the DVD symbol on a TV.

“Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

They bounce around in my head for the rest of the night, from when Amelia and I tuck into a greasy kebab, to when we settle into bed a good two hours later… The words are echoing around in my skull when my phone buzzes on my nightstand. I’m instantly ripped from my fantasies about the nice man with the wide shoulders when my brain reminds me the notification is probably from my shit-bag of an ex-boyfriend. I roll my eyes and breathe deeply before grabbing my phone, mentally preparing to read more false apologies when i��m completely stopped in my tracks.

Unknown: Nice seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

JP. The P is for Price, that much is obvious. But J? I begin to wonder about what his first name is… Jack? Jacob? James?

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I rack my brain to come up with some sort of coherent response. I don’t even question how he got my number, i’m too busy focusing on the fact that he even texted me to begin with, and is calling me ‘Dove’. My stomach swirls. What do I say?

I put my phone down and decide i’ll reply in the morning when the alcohol is out of my system and i’ve had enough time to formulate a response that doesn’t make me sound like an absolute idiot. Until then, his words and text bounce against the corners of my skull, well into the hours of the morning.

#call of duty #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #fanfic #captain john price #captain price #plus sized reader

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