#half of it's from my drafts from a week ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notjustjavierpena · 3 months

Text

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller�� Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

4K notes · View notes

leclerc-hs · 3 months

Text

ex's and oh's - CL16

pairing: ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex-boyfriend are in complicated territory OR your ex fucks you in the drivers seat of his car warnings: 18+, SMUT under the cut, badly translated french (pls correct me), not proofread!!!! word count: 2.4k author's note: ok I just want to sincerely apologize for my long absence on here!!! i know you’ve been waiting for me to finish this for a while now LOL but I've been insanely busy balancing life with two jobs lol. So I'm going to leave this here. I can honestly say it's not my best work and I apologize for that but I really wanted to give y'all something in the mean time. I have a bunch of drafts I plan to work on whenever I get the chance. Love you all!! pls forgive me and don't forget to leave me some comments and thoughts xoxo

THERE WAS NOTHING that could’ve prepared you for this fight. You weren’t drunk, as promised. Although you weren’t sober either.

You and Charles were...complicated. Exes but…. still, something more. You would always be something more. Your history stretched back almost forever, and that alone made it challenging to stay apart from each other.

There was a point in time when the aftermath of your breakup made it impossible for both of you to share the same space. It invariably led to bitter arguments over seemingly trivial matters. One such instance was during a movie night with your group of friends when you showed up in a sweatshirt that was far too big for your body, obvious that it wasn’t your own. Charles simmered with silent resentment in the corner until he could no longer contain it. The memory etched vividly in your mind, recalling the knots in your stomach throughout the night, feeling the intense burn of Charles’ gaze upon you. He didn’t cast a single glance at the movie that evening.

“Who’s fucking sweatshirt is that?”

“Already fucking other people, hm?”

As you slid into the familiar supple leather seats of his Ferrari, you felt the warmth of the car hug you like a blanket, providing much relief from the contrast of the cold air outside. In the process of slipping into his car, your skirt had ridden up higher than Charles would’ve preferred, your panties nearly exposed if it weren’t for the sheer tights providing more coverage. Did you really go out dressed like that? He felt his hands grip the steering wheel tighter than normal as a waft of your perfume enveloped the car.

“Did you have fun?” His tone was neutral, but his body posture was tense. He barely turned his head to check if you placed your seat belt on before peeling out from the curb at a speed much too fast.

Sober you would’ve caught onto his attitude almost immediately. But tipsy you, thought nothing of it.

“Oh Charlie!” You exasperated, the click of your seatbelt filling the car as the radio was turned on the lowest possible volume. “It was so fun!”

He dropped one of his hands from the wheel, bringing his hand to rub the scruff of his unshaven jaw, as a deep sigh falls past his lips. He was annoyed—more than annoyed. The sole fact that you left him unanswered for hours wasn’t his only issue. What had his muscles all tight and the permanent frown on his face was the images of one of your guy friends being way too close to you. Too close for Charles liking. It was the same guy that his friends had briefly mentioned weeks ago on his boat.

“Cha, l’aimes-tu toujours?” Do you still love her? His friends sat around the table; half-eaten food left on their plates. He didn’t answer the question immediately. But everyone knew, subconsciously, that he did.

“Elle et Nick été proches récemment,” Her and Nick have been close lately. The phrase alone made Charles choke on his water. In that moment, he thanked the lord for the sunglasses covering his widened eyes. The burn in his chest began simmering as the conversation continued.

“Oui, ne sont-ils pas partis ensemble l’autre soir?” Yeah, didn’t they leave together the other night?

He couldn’t blame his friends for the discussion. They didn’t know that you two were still in complicated territory. Everyone always figured you two would rekindle, but it’s been so long, no one knew if it would happen anymore.

So, although Charles felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, he plastered a big smile on his face while throwing his arm around the back of the chair beside him. “Nick, hm?”

He made a genuine effort to control his anger. Honestly, he really did try. However, as you persisted in discussing the night, particularly when the name ‘Nick’ slipped past your lips, he couldn’t help but lose his composure just a little bit.

His voice took on a lethal edge as he maneuvered the car to the side of the desolate road. The act of driving demanded attention, but his mind was a whirlwind of a million thoughts. He was consumed by anger, it oozed from every pore of his skin as he scoffed and turned to confront you. Your eyes were already fixated on him, and his gaze instantly met yours.

“A-t-il touché à toi?” Did he touch you? His voice rumbled like a low growl, and the green in his eyes was so deep and intense that it masked their actual color, making it nearly impossible to discern the green hue. But you memorized those eyes. His eyes. You were familiar with every nuance of shade that adorned them. His breath was slow and even as he awaited your answer.

The idea drove him insane—the notion of another man laying his hands on you. And even worse, you wanting another man’s hands on you.

For a moment, you found yourself taken aback, only to fully comprehend his tense posture and the sharpness in his tone. Suppressing any inclination to react visibly, you wrestled to maintain a neutral expression, ensuring your lips didn’t betray a hint of a smirk at his jealousy. You didn’t even need to ask who he was.

“Et est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance s’il l’avait fait?” And would it matter if he did?

The fact that you didn’t need to even address who he was talking about, only caused him to spiral further. As if you were confirming that Nick is the only other option.

The car felt increasingly smaller as the anger in Charles grew. His knee was bouncing with impatience as he clenched his jaw. Yes. Yes, it fucking mattered. He wanted to shout until his lungs gave out that it mattered. He began to lose the evenness of his breathing pattern, becoming more erratic as you didn’t answer the question.

“Dis-le-moi et nous le découvrirons,” Tell me and we’ll find out. His eyes traced your every movement as your eyes narrowed at him, a scowl forming on your lips. The lips he dreamed about almost every night.

The silence in the car heightened, and with each passing second, you could feel your heart rate quicken. His gaze remained fixated on your face, unwilling to divert elsewhere. It was as if he were a predator, and you, his prey, captivated under the unrelenting focus of his eyes.

“What? No snarky remarks for me?” C’mon play with me. Although he felt like his chest might crack in two, he needed to mask it. Needed to be nonchalant.

The tension lingered until you took a sharp swallow, the muscles in your neck twitching, that his eyes shifted, descending to the nape of your neck. They fixated on the subtle gleam of your collarbones, still glistening with a thin sheen of sweat from the night’s dancing. His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your breasts with each breath. He wanted to devour you whole.

You felt your thighs clench slightly from his pressuring gaze. He is so fucking hot. His hair in complete disarray from running his hands through it. He wore a pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie that made you want to cling your body around him as soon as you saw him.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two? His patience was wearing thin. You still haven’t answered his question, and the silence was eating him alive.

You detected a subtle waver in his tone, prompting a softening in your gaze. Your hand gently reached for his face, and he allowed his head to lean ever so slightly against the palm of your hand. It was as if your touch alone had the power to appease the turmoil of anger and jealousy rising within him.

And as much as you loved to get under his skin like he did yours sometimes. You couldn’t find it in you to provoke him. To cause him any pain. “No.”

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly as your thumb brushed against his jawline. His hands tremble when they reach for you, pulling you out of your seat and across the center console into his lap. “Est-ce que cela aurait de l’importance?” Would it matter? You repeated the question as your legs straddled him. His hands slid around your waist, resting on your backside in a tight grip, so you couldn’t move.

His mouth formed into a hardened line, as if he forced it to show you just how serious he was when he answered. “Bien sûr que cela a de l’importance,” Of course it matters.

“Porquoi?” Why?

“Why?” He repeats your question. Scoffing at the fact that you even had to ask him. As if you didn’t already know why.

You suck in a sharp breath as soon as his warm tongue meets with the nape of your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses up until his lips meet yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Mon coeur t’appartient.” My heart is yours. There was no questioning in his words. “Il a toujours été tien.” It’s always been yours. As those words hung in the air, your breath caught. You love this man. You love this man with every fiber of your being.

His fingers gripped onto your thighs with an almost bruising intensity, as if he needed to confirm your presence by feeling you in his hands, ensuring you weren’t a figment of his imagination. His nails traced along the thin fabric at the apex of your thigh, before digging them in and tearing them open instantly. You let out an audible moan as his fingers found immediate solace to the damp spot on your underwear. Of course, you were already wet just by looking at him.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He questioned, adding slight pressure to your cotton covered clit.

You moaned in delight at the contact but did not answer his question. It drove him mad.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, shoving them to the side, and slipping his fingers into your heated core. His fingers curled, hitting the spot you needed him most just right. Your back arched, barely grazing the horn of the steering wheel. Your hands were frantic, reaching for the waistband of his grey sweats as Charles lifted in hips off his seat to help you.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned out loud. The pace of Charles’ fingers had you careening forward with a cry, before he pulled them out of you completely, leaving you shouting “No!”.

“Relax cherie,” He clicked his tongue before pulling your chest flush with his, raising you up an inch to slide his cock right into you. He groaned as your pussy clenched tightly around him, squeezing him so tight he could barely focus on anything else. He held you down against him, letting neither of you move.

It wasn’t until you fully sat, completely full of him, that he rips the buttons of your shirt open, revealing a lacy ensemble across your chest. He traces the tip of his finger along cup of your breast and says, “Did you wear this on purpose, hm?”

You shook your head, wiggling your hips with a groan. You needed to move, needed to feel the force of his cock into you, but he wouldn’t let you. He just held your hips down as if he was waiting for something.

"You feel so good," He groans. "Squeezing me so tight."

“Cha, please.” You begged, getting agitated at the lack of movement.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me? He repeats again. A grin stretched across his features at your obvious struggle. The fact that you needed his cock this badly, had him only growing harder.

You bit your lip as Charles’ fingers sprawled across your neck in a tight grip, pulling your face to his. Close enough that your noses were touching.

“Réponds, et je suis tout à toi.” Answer, and I’m all yours.

“Est-ce que tu m’aimes?” Do you love me?

You don’t know what held you back from answering before. Because you did. He knew you did. He just needed to hear the words from your lips. Needed the reassurance that this was more than a quick fuck to you.

“Oui!” Yes! You half-shouted, eyes blown wide with need. “I will always love you!”

His hand released your hips, giving you the immediate go-ahead. You wasted no time, working yourself over his cock, moans eliciting from the both of you almost instantly. His hands slid to cup your ass, controlling your movements as he urges you to move faster.

“Mon dieu,” Charles groaned, his fingers dipping into the cup of your lacy ensemble, rolling your nipples between his index finger and thumb. “Je t’aime,” I love you.

The mere utterance of those words had you instinctively squeezing his cock with an intensified fervor, bringing you perilously close to the brink of ecstasy. A sly smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect his declaration had on you.

You moved your hips faster, the bounce of your breasts had Charles in a trance before he brought his eyes back to your face, looking you deep in the eyes. “Je t’aime,” He muttered again, bringing his lips to your mouth, swallowing your moans as if they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “C’mon, give it to me.” He begged, thrusting his hips upward into you as much as he could, eyes rolling to the back of his head until you both reach that point of ecstasy you both needed.

His face was bright red, cheeks flushed, as you worked yourself over him in a hurried pace. His sweatshirt no doubt, making him feel like a furnace, as sweat forms near his eyebrow. His eyes were wild, unsure where to look until they met with your eyes. His cock twitching inside of you from the clench of your pussy on him, and the gaze of your eyes.

“Je t’aime!” You shouted, releasing all over him and falling forward in exhaustion onto Charles chest.

Charles groaned hotly into your ear, his release catching him completely off guard due to the words you uttered. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest as you rested against it.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. His fingers caressed the ends of your hair behind your back. The both of you made no attempts to move.

“Mon Coeur est à toi.” My heart is yours. You repeat back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc angst #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader

2K notes · View notes

peachsayshi · 3 months

Text

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table.

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away.

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home.

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to.

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current.

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately.

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat.

that student was his responsibility...

...and he failed him entirely.

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango. “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!”

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day.

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down.

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet.

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her...

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on.

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair.

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles.

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!”

she’s only six.

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction.

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty.

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.”

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him.

the room is dead silent.

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice.

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place.

he regrets his words immediately.

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next.

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists.

“kento?”

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away.

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry.

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement.

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?”

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright.

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug.

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

#[peach is away.💌]#[peach queues.🧡]#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami x ofc #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento angst #nanami angst #nanami hurt/comfort #jujutsu kaisen angst #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk fluff

2K notes · View notes

et6rnalsun · 29 days

Text

EXCITEMENT, chris sturniolo

𝜗𝜚 pairing: chris sturn x fem! reader

warnings: it’s almost all smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up please !! stay safe ho) chris talks you thru it, spitting (?) & more i’m lazy

A/N: this was sitting in my drafts for too long bye. not edited!! & this is rushed and ugly i’m sorryyyy 🙂‍↕️ ( requests are open. masterlist. )

it was no secret that chris sturniolo was astronomically attracted to you. fucking obsessed with you and that little body of yours that you so loved showing off, seeming to purposely torture him with those exposed inches of skin he couldn't touch.

it really wasn’t.

he knew perfectly well you understood it, from the moment every time you turned around he had already been eye-fucking you for a while. often sitting manspread, his hand resting where sat his cock, that was already twitching in a desperate attempt to get some relief.

you two met for the first time at one of tara yummy's iconic parties, and the smile you offered him was definitely the start of all that pent up frustration.

he listened to your presentation with feigned interest, nodding as his gaze slid over you smoothly. his eyes focused mainly on the various tattoos you had on your arms — visible at the time due to the dress that didn't include any sleeves.

“do you have any others?" he asked suddenly, making you raise an eyebrow. so he decided to briefly run his thumb along the tattoos on your arm, giving a nod. "of these, i mean"

you hummed in response. "i also have a spine tattoo. i think it's the hardest one to see, as i rarely wear open-backed clothes." you paused, licking your lips on which the lipstick had already disappeared long ago. “whoever has the chance to see it is definitely lucky in more ways than one” a smirk curled at the sides of your mouth.

his throat went dry. he had immediately taken your hint.

“cool”

“mhm”

and before the end of the night he made sure he had your instagram, and the stain from your lipstick — which you had just put back on, on his cheek.

you saw each other again a couple of weeks after the party, driving to his house where he lives with his brothers, who weren't there at the time.

you undoubtedly continued to tease him the whole time, and then pretended nothing happened. you decided to put on a movie, and as you reached for the remote you placed your hand on his thigh — almost touching his crotch. you kept shifting your body on the couch, brushing against his over and over again. and your choice of clothes was more revealing than it should have been.

chris felt like he was going to explode. his cock at that point was obviously hard as he continued to sigh and bite the inside of his cheek nervously. he wouldn't last long.

and in fact, that's why you now found yourself in a particular situation.

your ass up while your arms were a support for your head. eyes half closed, breathing quickened with excitement. his eyes ran down your entire figure, stopping several times on your spine tattoo which he had already made sure to run his tongue over — just how he dreamed of.

chris was fisting his precum dripping cock into his hand, a moan escaped his lips as he dropped a thick string of spit onto his fat tip. “fuck” he murmured, spreading the sticky thing along his shaft.

while he was doing it, he started guiding his eager tip into your tight hole, without the slightest preparation. he gritted his teeth at the feeling of your warm walls squeezing him so deliciously. “fuck” he repeated, while you let out a pained whimper, gritting your teeth. "chris, i-”

it hurts. like hell. he continued to ease himself inside you, your eyes closing as your fingers gripped the fabric of the couch tightly. "my god"

chris’s eyes watched carefully as your body reacted, your back arched slightly. “sh, it’s okay” he murmured, pushing himself all the way into you, stretching you out completely. "you can take it, i'll make you feel - shit - so fucking good" he soothes, trying to find a stable rhythm as he bit his lip at those squishy sounds. “don’t you wanna feel good, mhm?”

“i can’t-” a rough thrust stopped you, making you moan loudly. his hand was flattening your cheek into the sofa cushion, while the other was lightly pushing your lower back. “yes you can. look at you, doll” he threw his head back, deliberately picking up the pace as his hips slammed hard against your ass.

“you feel so damn good” he moaned again, his thrusts making you see stars before your watery eyes. "so perfect"

as you get used to him, drool was pooling at the side of your mouth as you were rocked back and forth at a crazy speed. you sobbed and continued to moan his name incoherently.

“chris, chris- god” you arched your back more, starting to feel close. “i’m gonna cum - please - let me cum” you tried to look back at him, but his hand was harshly stopping you.

“yeah? is that so?” chris said between heavy breaths, his lips parted. "you wanna cum that bad?”

“please” you were barely registering his words as you cried out begs, your body shaking at the impact of his thrusts that felt unstoppable.

then his hand moved down to rub against your clit, causing you to let out yet another surprised moan. the slick of your cum was already smearing onto his pelvic bone, and he felt his orgasm coming right alongside yours.

his thrusts became hard and slow, and you had placed a hand on his wrist, preventing him from pulling out as he too reached his peak, his thick cum filling you up perfectly to the brim. “fuck, yes” before eventually pulling out, and watching as the milky substance seeped out.

you were completely destroyed, your body collapsed onto the couch. he did the same, but not before giving you a hard slap on your ass. "such a good girl for me"

likes & reblogs are highly appreciated.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #fem reader #smut #+18 content #chris sturniolo x reader

781 notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 9 days

Note

I don't know if the requests are still open but I'd love a check up on tattoo artist harry cause I just love them so much 🥰🥰

proud (tattoorry/plugrry)

this was originally a patreon exclusive but I've had it in my drafts for months bc I really wanted to share it here!! so here it is! a little wholesome check-in with our cutie pie couple

word count: 2.4k

content warnings: minor mentions of mental health conditions including anxiety, depression, and trauma

only angel (tattoorry/plugrry) masterlist

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“Harry?”

Y/N’s gnawing on the skin of her bottom lip as she wrings her hands in her lap, nervousness apparent on her facial features. Harry glances up from his phone — he’s been mindlessly scrolling through cat videos on Instagram for the past half an hour or so, Friends on in the background as he and Y/N sit snuggled up in cozy throw blankets.

She’d been working up the courage to say something for nearly two hours now, but everytime she went to part her lips and force the words out of her throat, she clammed up.

She couldn’t help the anxiety that crept through her bones, especially because she was used to constantly being looked down on. She knows Harry would never make her feel bad for any choice she made for herself, but what if he thought she was crazy? What if her trauma was too much to deal with? These were the worries that circulated her brain for days, ever since deciding that she wanted to seek out professional mental health help a few weeks ago.

“Hm?” he puts his phone down, locking the screen, “What’s up, dovie?”

Fidgeting with the skin surrounding her chipped nail polish, she swallows tightly. His eyes are analyzing her body language and she suddenly feels small and foolish beneath his gaze, solely because of the trauma from her parents.

They always treated her like she was less than, to the point where she wholeheartedly, truly believed it. In the few months that Y/N’s been on her own and officially dating Harry, he’s been helping her in ways she could have never imagined, but she didn’t want all of her issues to fall on him. It’s the main reason why she decided to find a therapist.

“I’ve been thinking,” she rasps out, her voice cracking. “I think I’m going to start seeing a counselor. To deal with my, um… parents.”

Harry’s posture straightens and his eyebrows furrow, a concerned wrinkle forming between them. (It always showed up when Y/N mentioned anything relating to her family.)

“What do you mean?”

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she prepares the speech she’s been practicing in her head for days.

“I just know I have a lot of trauma from them and I don’t want you to feel responsible for helping me through it all the time,” she says, reciting the explanation word-for-word, “It’s important for me to figure this out on my own and I want it to come from a mental health professional.”

Harry's look of worry almost instantly morphs into a gentle smile. He reaches out to intertwine their fingers together and gives her hand a small squeeze, much to Y/N’s relief. She was terrified he’d take it the wrong way, but the proud expression on his face says different.

“That’s incredible, dovie. I’m so proud of you.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead, the showcase of love instantly slowing her heartbeat.

“You’re not mad?” she asks, peering up at him through thick eyelashes.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “I could never be mad at you for wanting to work on yourself. I think it’ll be really helpful for you. Have you found someone yet?”

“No. I wanted to run it past you before looking.”

His heart cracks a bit but he tries not to let it show on his face. “You never have to do that, okay? You’re your own person, baby, and I have no right to tell you what to do with your life. Alright?”

It’s a strange way to look at life after having every decision of her life planned out for her since birth. She’s still adjusting — that much is obvious, but it isn’t her fault, and Harry works regularly to help her realize that in small doses.

“Would you maybe help me find a person?” Y/N peeps out, playing with his fingers in her lap. Her eyes are set on their hands, still too nervous to look at him face-to-face. Harry, though he has no experience looking for therapists himself, still nods enthusiastically, willing to help her take whatever steps she needs.

“Why don’t you grab your laptop?” he suggests. She reaches forward to pull it off the coffee table before Harry wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. She makes a soft ah!, surprised by his sudden movements, which of course results in a small, snarky smile on his end.

Shuffling so the laptop is in his lap now, he opens it, has her put her password in, and searches up “therapists near me.” His eyes float to the nervous girl beside him, who’s taken up gnawing on her fingernails as he clicks on the first result. It’s a directory of mental health professionals close to them where you can filter by specialities, insurance, and other preferences.

“Okay, dovie,” he croons gently, “What are you looking for in particular? Someone to help with stress?”

She shrugs. “Um, maybe something a bit more. Maybe… anxiety? A-and family stuff?”

“That’s a good starting point,” he encourages, clicking on the appropriate filters. Immediately, a number of therapists that originally showed up disappear, but it still leaves them with a decent amount to scroll through. “Anything else? Do you have a preference on gender or how far they are from us?”

“I think I want a woman,” she says before glancing up at him with worried eyes, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

He clicks the “female” preference, resulting in around 15 options for them to look at. She continues biting her nail as Harry scrolls down. He periodically hovers over someone, asking her if she’d like to look at them more. She’ll either nod or shake her head, but in the event of the former, he’ll open their profile in a separate tab.

Eventually, they narrow it down to three but one isn’t actively taking new clients, so it’s between Leanna, who looks to be around Harry’s mom’s age and is located 20 minutes from Y/N’s apartment, and Madeline, a younger woman with experience in a myriad of mental health concerns.

Quietly, Y/N alternates between the two tabs, contemplating and comparing their experiences. He can tell that she’s having difficulty picking, but he doesn’t want to say anything to sway her in one direction over the other — he wants this to fully be her choice.

“I think I like Madeline.” she says, looking up at her boyfriend. Her eyes are slightly rounded, lips parted as if she’s waiting for approval from Harry.

“Sounds like a good choice, dove. How’d you settle on her?”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, scrolling down on her profile page. “Well, she has experience with anxiety, depression, and trauma… and I’ve been reading a bit online, and I think I do have some trauma from my parents, so…”

Harry nods, smoothing her hair comfortingly.

“And I like that she seems like she’s closer in age to us… it might make me feel more comfortable, like I’m talking to a friend,” she explains. He hums in agreement. “She also has a cat at her office, which I really like, too.”

He chuckles and leans over to nose at her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I think those are all great reasons,” he murmurs.

He won’t admit it tonight because he doesn’t want her to get too nervous, especially if she ultimately decides she’s too scared to go, but he’s infinitely proud of her right now. He’s contemplated bringing up therapy to her for the past few months, particularly right after he helped her move out of her parents’ home.

The fact that she came to that decision herself is enough for him to feel over the moon, his chest swelling with pride. Even if she backs out at the last minute, at the very least, he knows she’s trying her best, and that’s all he could ever ask of her.

“Why don’t you email her and send your information?” Harry suggests lightly, breaking Y/N out of her own trance of thinking. With a swallow, she nods, clicking on the little mail symbol next to Madeline’s name.

He watches as she composes an email, her fingers stuttering over the keys every few minutes. He can tell that she’s over-thinking on what to say, but she eventually settles on a short, to-the-point message: Hi Madeline, my name is Y/N and I was interested in seeing you for therapy. Are you taking on new clients at the moment?

“Great,” Harry blurts out once she presses ‘send’. She looks up at him. “You did great.” he amends, a light blush flowering over his cheeks.

All she does is smile and bury herself into his chest.

. . .

“Here, why don’t you wear this to your appointment?”

Y/N thinks that Harry may be even more nervous for her first therapy session than she is.

Although she’s busying around her apartment, getting her things together in preparation for her 11 am appointment, Harry’s movements are just as jerky and anxious. She’s currently looking for her favorite comfy sweatshirt when he suddenly peels off the fuzzy cardigan he’s wearing, handing it to her. It’s the one he bought on sale at Urban Outfitters a few weeks back when they had some time off from work and school. They’d been traipsing through the shops nearby with no intention of actually buying something, but Harry had said that he liked how it felt like a teddy bear.

“Oh, but you’re already wearing that,” Y/N says with a pout, shaking her head. “It’s okay, I’ll find something else—”

“No, I want you to wear it,” he insists. “Maybe it’ll help make you feel more comfortable? Having something of mine?”

She blinks, slowly reaching out to accept it from his grasp. “What will you wear though?”

“I think I’ve left a few sweatshirts here,” he says, popping up from his seat on the edge of her bed. “Don’t you have that little drawer with all my stuff?”

She nods. It hadn’t really been an intentional thing, but when she told Lucy about it, she explained to her that it was kind of a big deal. Apparently, having a drawer at your significant other’s apartment meant that you were moving in the direction of living together, but Y/N didn’t see it that way. It was more for the sake of convenience, especially if Harry came over after work and decided to stay over instead of heading back to his place.

She walks over to her dresser and yanks open the top drawer. It’s filled to the brim with tee-shirts, sweatshirts, and two pairs of sweatpants, all of which belong to Harry. She glances over at him, embarrassed, and he laughs.

“Geez, dovie, think you’re a bit obsessed with me,” he teases, grabbing one of the hoodies. She rolls her eyes.

“You’re the one that leaves this stuff here all the time!”

“Yeah, but it looks like you’re building some kind of shrine—”

“Oh, shush!” she says, pulling his cardigan on. She’ll admit, the fabric is heavenly, and the fact that it smells like Harry is a massive added bonus. “Are you still fine to drive me?”

He nods quickly once he has his sweatshirt on, grabbing his car keys. “Ready when you are, baby.”

He makes her take a granola bar and a water bottle on her way out, both of them bidding Lucy a goodbye when they exit the apartment. Y/N has a bad habit of not wanting to eat when she’s nervous, but Harry can guarantee that her stomach will start rumbling as soon as she’s done with today’s session.

They climb into the familiarity of Harry’s car, Y/N taking her usual seat on the passenger’s side. She hasn’t driven much since cutting off communication with her parents. Obviously, she left the car they bought her, and she doesn’t have enough money in her savings to buy another one, even if it’s used or a lease.

Since she didn’t get the job at the bookstore, she’s been looking for other part-time opportunities on campus but nothing’s come up yet. Harry offered to get her some work at the shop, but she felt too weird about having her boyfriend pay her for silly tasks like cleaning up and scheduling appointments.

Madeline’s office isn’t too far away, and Harry took the morning off to take her. He said — quote — “I’m clearing my schedule, dovie — no appointments, meetings, and certainly no drug deals!”. (That had made Y/N snort over the Chinese food they shared for dinner a few nights ago.)

The drive is mainly quiet, save for Harry’s quiet music playing in the background. She’s nervous and fidgety in her seat so he reaches over to intertwine their fingers together, giving her hand a small squeeze in her lap. It makes her feel a little bit better, but she wishes Harry could go to her appointment with her.

When they arrive, Harry pulls into a parking space just outside the door. They have 10 minutes before her session officially starts, but Madeline had asked if she could get there a bit early to fill out some paperwork.

“Feel okay?” Harry asks, pushing his sunglasses up to his hair. She nods, even though her heart is hammering in her ribs. “You’re gonna do great, dovie. I’ll be here as soon as you’re done.”

“Okay,” she breathes, watching as the clock ticks one minute closer to 11. She swallows harshly and unbuckles her seatbelt, grabbing her bag from the floor of Harry’s car. “I'll be done by 11:45, right?”

“11:45, baby. I’ll be right here.”

“Okay. Alright.”

He leans over to smear a quick kiss to her cheek and she smiles gently, though it doesn’t completely reach her eyes. She gets out of the car and straightens her posture, pulling Harry's cardigan tighter over her form, and winds around the front to walk in the direction of the front door.

It’s only then that Harry rolls down his window, despite the wet, dewy chill of the morning.

“Wait, Y/N!”

She turns around, an expression of confusion painting her features.

“I’m so proud of you!” he exclaims. He can see her blush from his spot in the car, a wide, toothy grin appearing on her face. “I’m so proud of you, and I love you so much.”

She mouths it back — I love you too — this time with a smile that lights up her entire face. She waves her fingers with one more goodbye before taking a deep breath and walking into the office building.

Harry can’t stop grinning to himself.

467 notes · View notes

folkwhoredoll · 2 months

Text

soothing touch - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: after a tiresome week, your boyfriend knows just how to help

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex, nipple play), soft bf!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever say this enough but thank you for your support! however i might be inactive for the next days or weeks because easter break is over :< but i promise to keep writing whenever i can <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

+*:ꔫ:*﹤

“Baby, come lay with me.” You heard your boyfriend whine from the bed.

“Just a few more minutes, Rafey. I need to finish this essay, or I’ll lose my train of thought.” You replied without looking at him, eyes steady between your laptop screen and keyboard.

Rafe groaned, growing impatient after hearing you use the same excuse for the third time.

It had been over two hours since he laid on the bed and over two hours that you refused to join him. The past weeks have made you busy, considering you were a graduating student. There were deadlines here and there, you have experienced sleepless nights for the past few days, and coffee is probably the only liquid cursing through your veins.

Rafe knew it was coming and made sure to help in any way possible, but it doesn’t mean he was okay with it. He missed taking you out on dates and golfing sessions, but it has been almost a month since he was able to do so.

He came to your house a few hours ago and brought you snacks you felt incredibly grateful for. You welcomed and greeted him, then returned to your room to sit in front of your laptop.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise I’ll just finish this essay, and then we can cuddle, okay?” You offered to him softly, feeling bad that you’d ignored him.

Rafe, who has a stern exterior towards other people, is always soft towards you. His eyes softened upon hearing your offer, wanting nothing more than for you two to spend the night together.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

You flashed him a smile, your fingers desperately working to finish your essay.

Around half an hour later, you were typing out the last sentence for your draft. You inhaled deeply and stretched your back before shutting down the computer, deciding that you would just do your revisions in the morning.

“Finally.” You heard Rafe’s voice, making you chuckle, and excitedly made your way to the bed where your boyfriend was adorably tucked in the covers. “Hi, baby.”

You crawled in his arms, feeling extremely relaxed now that you were out of your stiff chair. “Hi, Rafey.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asked you sweetly, letting you decide depending on how you were feeling.

You thought momentarily, looking at the time and realizing it was almost midnight. Yet, surprisingly, you didn’t feel an ounce of sleepiness.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’m not sleepy yet. You?”

“Nah. I’m not sleepy, too.” Rafe shook his head before an idea popped into his mind. “You want me to give you a massage?”

Without hesitation, you agreed, nodding your head quickly. “Yes, please. My back hurts so much.”

Rafe gave you a pitied look. “Aw, baby. I got you; go get ready.”

You positioned yourself on the bed, grabbing a pillow where you can rest your head on. You sat up for a while to remove the thin sweater that hugged your torso. Your bra followed after you skillfully removed the clasps on your back. The amount of times that Rafe had seen you naked has made you shameless in making such gestures in front of him.

Meanwhile, Rafe watched your actions as he positioned himself behind you, hungrily eyeing your bare back before reminding himself that he was supposed to help you relax.

“Lay down on your stomach, pretty girl.” He spoke.

You did as he asked, sighing relief when your front side made contact with your sheets.

Knowing your room like the back of his hand, Rafe grabbed a bottle of lavender oil from your bedside drawer. He squeezed out a small amount, only enough to cover your back. Once satisfied, he warmed up the oil by rubbing it between his palms before putting it on your skin.

You let out a soft moan at the contact; the minty feeling from the oil and the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands on your back made you instantly relax.

Rafe continued to give you a massage until his hands were dry from the oil, giving your back continuous strokes while you were on the verge of sleeping.

Little do you know, your breathy sighs have awakened something in Rafe.

He cleared his throat after several minutes, leaning down to check if you were sleeping. After seeing your opened eyes, Rafe relaxed and gave you a smile. “You feeling better?”

You mumbled a ‘yes,’ groaning as you slowly turned around on your back. “Thank you, Rafe.”

Rafe replied nothing, instead just lowering his face to yours in order to press a kiss on your lips. You smiled into the kiss, making Rafe go crazy. He wanted nothing more than to go further but hesitated as he thought of your tired body.

Unexpectedly, you were the one who deepened the kiss, your hands subtly moving up to his hair.

“Baby…” Rafe gasped, pulling away slightly. “Are you not tired?”

“Not really.” You said honestly as you looked into his eyes. “Feels good, Rafe. Please.”

Your words were confirmation for Rafe, making him press his lips back to yours. You let out a gasp when your boyfriend’s lips went from your mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin softly.

“Hey, no marks.” You reminded him, remembering the time that your parents almost fainted when they saw Rafe’s love marks on your neck and chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He cheekily smiled.

Rafe’s attention was suddenly on your breasts. He already had easy access to them after you removed your top. You moaned in surprise when his lips wrapped around your left nipple, your back arching as you tried to catch your breath.

“Rafe.” You heaved when his mouth attached to your other nipple, his fingers now working simultaneously as he toyed with the other one. When he was satisfied with the attention that he gave to your breasts, he straightened up his posture, and you took the opportunity to start removing his shirt.

You quickly get rid of his shirt, throwing it sideways as you focus on his shorts.

“Someone’s excited.” He chuckled.

“It’s been a while.” You pouted.

“I know, sweetheart. We have a lot of time.” Rafe replied softly. He pecked your lips once before crouching down. “Lift your hips slightly, baby. Let me take this off of you.”

You obeyed, pushing yourself up from the bed to allow Rafe to pull down your shorts and underwear. You took a deep breath at the realization that you were fully exposed but paid no attention when you caught Rafe eyeing your pussy while licking his lips.

“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, his right-hand landing gently on your thigh.

“Rafe…” You whined lowly, feeling frustrated as his fingers teased you by drawing random circles along your skin.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked innocently.

You groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

He smirked. Rafe loves nothing more than seeing you surrender to his touches. And right now, he’s enjoying the growing smell and wetness of your arousal.

Removing his hand from your thigh, he pressed a finger against your clit. You jolted forward; the pressure alone is enough to stimulate pleasure to your core. “Fuck.”

Rafe’s finger gently circled your clit, both his cock and smile becoming more prominent at the sight of you. He surprised you by pressing two fingers in, his thumb taking over your clit. He began pumping, enjoying your moans mixed with the sound of your wet folds.

“Fucking hell, Rafe. More.” You demanded through deep breaths, your chest rising and falling.

He didn’t respond, pulling out his fingers after a few moments. Your brows pinched together in confusion, looking at him as he brought his fingers to his mouth.

“You taste amazing, darling.” He smirked and watched as you stared at his lips. After licking his two fingers clean, he lifted his hands and brought his thumb to your face. “Open.”

Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and took his thumb in. You sucked, tasting yourself and letting out a moan while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck.” Rafe spoke, feeling his cock straining. “I was planning to go soft on you. But you seem more eager than I do.”

After you’re done licking his finger, he pulls down his trousers and underwear. Despite seeing him naked multiple times, you still can’t help but be amazed at his size, your thoughts growing wild with desire.

You watched as Rafe kneeled before you, his eyes on the same level as your folds. He pulled you nearer to him, your lower half almost hanging off the edge of the table as he wrapped your legs around his shoulder.

“You gotta keep quiet, baby. We don’t want to get caught by your parents, do we?”

Without any warning, Rafe pressed his face to your pussy, his tongue expertly slipping inside and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck!” You moaned aloud, instantly forgetting his words as you pressed your weight against the bookshelf behind you.

He slapped your thigh softly. “What did I just say?”

You ignored him, too focused on the pleasure that you’re feeling to control the sounds from your mouth. You squirmed against his lips, grinding your hips upwards to get more. Your boyfriend smiled proudly.

“Yes, yes, Rafe…. Shit.”

He pulled one of his hands away from you, lowering it to pump his manhood. His occasional moans caused vibrations throughout your body, your toes curling and your eyes shutting.

Rafe felt your legs shake, and he started to pull away. He needed you to cum, but not yet.

“W-what?” You asked desperately, almost whining at the loss of contact.

He gently shushed you, pushing himself up and lining his cock directly at your slits. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll finish you right here.”

He pushed himself into you inch by inch, your warm folds wrapping around him perfectly. Rafe groaned at the damp and tight feeling surrounding him, head falling back in pleasure as he settled perfectly within you.

You moaned once more, loudly this time as he started thrusting, his rhythm steady yet forceful. You repeatedly called his name, hands gripping the sheets around you as you shook in pleasure. Rafe looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, eyes filled with lust and pride every time his hips meet yours. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs forward, almost keeping them against your chest.

“That’s right, darling. Moan my name.” Sweat started to form on his forehead, his thrusts becoming harsher and quicker in desperate need. “C’mon, Y/n. Let me see you cum.”

“Rafe…” You cried, your cunt clenching and throbbing. The bed was creaking slowly, and you could only hope that your parents were currently deep in slumber.

The pleasure was overwhelming as Rafe focused on every part of you as much as possible. Both of you panting and covered in sweat, his hands working wonders on your clit and nipple while he perfectly filled your cunt.

“R-Rafe, I’m…”

“I know, baby. Cum with me. Come on, pretty girl.” He whispered closely in your ear, maintaining the speed of his thrusts as he rubbed your clit faster.

Your heart rate was increasing, and your body was shaking. But it was Rafe’s direct eye contact and sudden pinch on your clit that pushed you over the edge, eyes rolling at the back of your head as you released.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Rafe moaned at the sight, loving the feeling of your tight walls and warm release around his cock.

It wasn’t long until he pumped several more times before he gave in, releasing his juices inside of you with heavy breaths.

Neither of you moved for a while, still breathless and shaking.

Rafe pulled out of you slowly, making you whine. He cooed at you, pressing kisses on both of your cheeks. “Are you feeling better, baby?”

Unable to form words because you were still catching your breath, you just grinned and nodded, your hand rising to cup and stroke his cheek.

“Let’s get you ready for bed now, sweetheart.”

The rest of the night, you didn’t break any sweat. Rafe took charge of changing your clothes and sheets, even giving you a quick bath to refresh you.

On times like these, you thank the heavens for giving you a boyfriend like Rafe Cameron.

#drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader smut

605 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 2 months

Text

Reprisal

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Turnabout is fair play. Sequel to Acting Up.

Warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, exhibitionism, semi-public blowjob, deepthroat, swallowing, brief d/s dynamics, brief mention of window sex.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: So, I was in the mood to write a filthy blowjob fic, and this has been sitting in my drafts for more than a year. It was inspired by an ask from the lovely @queen-of-the-misfit-toys, so it is dedicated to them. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

Your toes tingle from crouching in the same awkward position for what feels like the last… eternity. But revenge is a dish best served not so much cold, as when least expected.

You hear him warmly greet all his guests out in the hallway, then beckon them towards the dining room. He sits at the head of the table, just a few inches in front of you. All is unfolding exactly as you expect so far.

You are so very grateful no one kicks you as they take their places, the convivial buzz of conversation muffled under the thick drape of tablecloth fabric. You shift slightly to get more comfortable, knowing you must wait patiently a while longer; your window of opportunity will arise after their light two-course supper.

Just two weeks ago, your husband had mercilessly made you orgasm silently in front of his entire family as he fingered you to oblivion at dinner. It is now his turn.

As Smith serves the men dessert, you place a firm hand on Benedict’sknee when you hear him complete a sentence, and his whole leg jolts. It’s the only forewarning you give him before running both hands heavily up over his muscular thighs and grabbing for his resting cock. You feel both his legs jerk, and a hand grabs your wrist forcefully. Next to you, a spoon clatters loudly to the floor, smattering a streak of blackcurrant across the pristine oak floor.

“Butterfingers!” He jests.

Suddenly, his face appears under the drape of cloth and morphs into one of surprise as he sees you. With a raised eyebrow, you shove a little note into his hand, you came prepared.

Do not give anything away. Now we shall see how well you play this game, my love.

You watch him quickly scan the note, and then his eyes cut back to you, trepidation, challenge, and adoration—a beguiling cocktail. Realising if he stays under too long, his guests will suspect something; he straightens but not before a loving touch to your chin.

“Could not find the blasted thing,” he jokes in explanation. “Smith, please, could you bring me a new spoon?”

As soon as the conversation begins again, you reach to squeeze him again, and he helpfully pushes forward in his chair and splays his legs wider.

Well played, darling.

You can feel a burgeoning swelling there, and you reach for the buttons at his hip, wanting to dive right in. As soon as you peel open the front of his trousers, his cock springs free, already half-erect. The fact he never seems to wear underwear makes you smirk—your wonderful bohemian whore of a husband.

You wrap a hand around him, and you can tell from the way his hips surge how much he appreciates it. Slowly, teasingly, you strengthen your grip. He probably suspects you will just use your hands, as he did to you. You cannot wait to see how he will react when you use your mouth on him. You intend to suck him deep and hard, not wanting to be bettered in this game of one-upmanship.

You shuffle forward, and a hand reaches under the table to pat your shoulder affectionately.

Without preamble, you suckle his tip into your mouth and feel his whole body tense in surprise, his thigh muscles tensing, and his fingers dig into your shoulder reflexively. Smirking to yourself, you swirl your tongue around his head as his hand travels along the top of your shoulder to cup the side of your neck, his thumb swiping a few tender strokes just under your ear.

You feel the vibration through his body as he talks, calling upon his friend to regale everyone with tales from his recent travels. “Spare no details!” he appends with an accommodating chuckle, relaxing into his chair and pushing his hips towards you, sliding deeper into your mouth as he does.

You appreciate his smarts for that decision - he can appear to be listening intently as a gracious host but not having to lead any conversation.

Taking a deep breath, you sink, taking half of his cock into your mouth, revelling in the contours as they pass through your lips and the twitch of his fingers in the hair behind your ear, his warm palm cupping your jaw. So you push a little lower, as far as you can, without fear of making a noise - you do not want to give anything away by choking yourself on him, as you love to do—that will have to wait for another time, in private. This is more of a challenge for him than anything.

You still, to let him feel the heat of your mouth, enticingly dabbing your tongue over his length, before pulling up and concentrating on his sensitive head, sucking on his frenulum and letting his foreskin roll between your lips, a slight twisting action to your movements that you know he loves. He coughs, causing his cock to jerk into the roof of your mouth, his fingers sliding tentatively around the back of your head as if planning to direct your movements.

No, no, I decide what happens here, dearest.

You grab his hand away and hold it on his thigh instead, lacing your fingers with his as you lower again, his fingertips curling between your knuckles, telling you exactly how much he is enjoying this, even as he remains mostly silent and still, his friend still holding court around the table above.

“I did miss my wife, though,” the man ripostes as his story ends. “Her womanly delights were a wonderful homecoming.”

There is a bawdy round of laughter at that.

“And what of you, Bridgerton?’ you hear one ask as you change your motion, his tip glancing the back of your mouth with each deep pull.

“What of me?” his voice a touch rough.

“You are not long married. How is that sweet, innocent, young thing?” the same man continues.

You have to tamp the urge to giggle at the irony of being called innocent while kneeling between your husband's splayed legs, mere inches from his unsuspecting friends, sucking his cock so thoroughly that your jaw aches deliciously.

If only they knew…

“She is a wonder, and I love her more than life itself,” Benedict praises after clearing his throat. A warmth blooms behind your ribs as his sweet words, such a contradiction to the utter debauchery of your actions at this very moment.

“Spoken like a true poet,” another man mocks affably. “Come now, we speak of earthier matters tonight, Bridgerton. There are no such delicate ears to overhear after all.”

You want to roll your eyes at their prurient line of talk. Even as you slide up and down on Benedict’s cock, moving faster now, wanting to truly put him to the test, as he did you, something in the way he tilts his hips fractionally tells you all your need to know.

“As I said, my wife is a wonder,” he repeats with finality, gritting his teeth.

To his friends, it likely seems he is attempting to arrest the topic out of decorum, not the fact he is struggling with composure, which you can detect from the tinge of desperation, the twitch in his legs, the harsh grip of his hand on yours.

As talk moves on to gambling around the table, the volume increases as the men splinter into side conversations, an opportune moment for you to be a touch daring. Sinking to his root, allowing his solid, hot tip to plug your throat, emitting a tiny moan as you do, buzzing into his pelvis. Benedict’s entire body stiffens, and you feel a crest of victory as he fights not to make a noise; his body at war, wanting to thrust, to grab, to do anything but sit still and take it.

Tougher than it looks, is it not, darling husband?

You want to chuckle, but your mouth is too full of him, a salty bead of precum trickling down your throat as you ease off to allow him a moment of reprieve and yourself a deep, calming breath. Tilting your head sideways and running suckling kisses over the underside of his cock, all the way to his sac that you lap as your other hand wraps around his tip and gives soft teasing squeezes.

His hand untangles from yours on his leg and wraps around your other hand, attempting to halt your motions, silently asking for clemency which you ignore, batting him away. He gave you no such accommodation in front of his own mother, no less.

But you take pity and decide not to string it out for much longer, his friends loud now the wine bottles are empty, one beginning to sing tunelessly, and another joining in a few bars later. Using both of your hands wound around his lower shaft, constricting in a wave motion, and your mouth sucking forcefully on his head. Encourage him to break, to come, wanting that taste to flood your mouth, a heavy throbbing sensation between your legs that is your arousal. You will need him to fuck you ruthlessly once his entertaining duties are over. Perhaps facedown right over this very table or, preferably, in your bedroom window, your nipples pebbled against the cool glass as he takes you roughly from behind, kneeling on the bench seat… the exhibitionist streak that he provokes in you flaring.

The images tumbling through your mind have you feral, sucking ferociously, pushing his thighs out wider to allow yourself greater access, crowding into him, knowing that with the level of noise in the room now, you can make some sound yourself. The back of your head glancing the underside of the table as you bob rapidly, moaning lightly, drooling on the length of his cock, your saliva pooling into his trousers as you mercilessly rise and sink, breathing heavily through your nose. You sense the tension in his legs, his vice-like grip on the table edge, every cell of his being in pure ecstasy and the agony of not being able to show it. He is usually so very vocal and lavish in his praise when you do this.

“Come for me, my love, give it to me.” you gargle around him, his legs dancing now in a staccato quake.

Even if he cannot decipher your words, he can feel the echo over his velvet skin, and suddenly, both of his hands dive under the table and grip around your ears, finger grasping your scalp. Pushing you deep onto his cock, his whole being seeming to curl around you, his knees lifting high near your shoulders as you feel his sac tighten against your chin, a strong ripple between your lips and then a salty wave in your mouth as he comes hard.

“Are you alright, Bridgerton?” a concerned voice rings out as you swallow victoriously, then slackening your mouth to allow him to slip out, moving to lick him clean as he quivers under your tender ministrations.

“Sorry, gentleman,” his voice is ragged, harsh. “I felt a wave of nausea; perhaps a lunch of venison and oysters was not advisable. But do not fear, I'm sure it was a fleeting moment of discomfort,” he lies to cover his actions, holding one hand up in a reassuring gesture as his other hand strokes your cheek, your face resting upon his clothed thigh, leaning into his doting fingers, akin to a cat. “However, perhaps it is time we sojourned to the parlour,” he announces as you carefully rebutton his trousers. “‘Tis where I keep my best liquors, after all!!”

You hear a rousing call of agreement, all around the sound of chairs scraping as they stand and drift towards the exit.

“I will be there, anon, gentlemen; I must speak to my valet first,” Benedict fibs, shifting in his seat but not standing.

As the chorus of voices fades, he pushes out his chair and holds up the tablecloth, staring at you slack-jawed.

“At a loss for words, husband?” you smirk, raising a coquettish eyebrow as he assists you in crawling out from under the table.

“The most delightful revenge, darling wife…” he responds, his eyes glittering. “But the use of your mouth is an escalation. I rather think a declaration of war, not a mere battle.” The very beguiling threat of more challenges to come makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

‘“Promises promises…Sir,” you goad with a wink, dusting off your dress and standing up, hoping the invocation of his play title will spark something in him.

A warm hand clamps firmly around the nape of your neck, making you gasp excitedly.

“Insolence does not go unpunished, little one,” he warns lowly.

There it is.

“Yes, Sir,” your stance instantly submissive, swaying into him. “Perhaps, you could fuck me against our bedroom window later? So the world can see to whom I belong?”

He growls softly, and his nostrils flare as he crowds into you. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I look forward to it, Sir.” you smile, always enjoying when he behaves domineering.

However, with a wink, his grip releases, his mien turning gentler, nuzzling your cheek.

“I am quite the luckiest man alive. I love you, darling,” he breathes.

“And I you, husband. Now, go entertain your guests. I will see you later,” you offer, kissing his jaw as you drift towards the door, wrapped in each other's arms.

“I’d rather retire to our bedchamber with you,” he sighs wistfully into your temple.

“I shall be there waiting for you,” you vow. “Naked, except for the jewels you have given me. Thinking of you. Touching myself…” you paint a vivid picture to tempt and tease him.

You squeal as he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, striding purposefully into the hallway, the sounds of the men in the room across the hall unmistakable.

“Smith,” Benedict addresses the man standing dutifully by the front door. “Please tell my guests they are welcome to stay but that I was, in fact, mistaken. I have taken indeed ill with a dreaded stomach bug and must retire from their company immediately,” he pronounces.

You laugh at his lie, and he slaps your bottom for good measure.

“Will that be all, sir?” His trusty valet replies, tone world-weary.

“Please escort them out the rear entrance when they are done carousing and arrange for their carriages to pick them up in the mews. I do not wish the neighbours to witness their drunken behaviour,” he rejoinders as he begins to climb the stairs with you still dangling over his shoulder.

Giggling, you wave to Smith as you go, who merely raises three fingers dryly in recognition—he has walked in upon you fucking you in every room of the house since your marriage; this is decidedly mundane.

And as Benedict fulfils your request sometime later - pounding into you so hard that the window rattles in its frame, you clinging to the wooden sash as you stare out across the treetops of the handsome square - you cannot help but wonder if the request to send his friends home another way was not entirely for your benefit.

Join my taglist here | My fic masterlist is here

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

552 notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Property of Leo Valdez

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader warning: major references to sexual stuff (like integral part of the story, folks), language, aged up for obvious reasons probs like 19-20 ish, author's note: i know for a fact I didn't completely come up with this concept myself. I saw a headcanon a few months ago that mentioned this idea and then i wrote it into a full fic bc i loved it so much. and I have since lost it, which is more than a little disappointing bc i would love to give credit where credit is due. if any of yall run into it, lemme know and i'll give them credit. anyways, i figured we could use a full fic in after all those hcs!! this was just collecting dust in my drafts so let's full send this baby.

leo and y/n weren’t really ones to follow the rules. it goes all the way back to their time on the argo ii. after coach hedge was gone and buford the table was put in charge, y/n had started to have really intense nightmares. like, wake-the-whole-ship-up-with-screams intense nightmares. she stopped sleeping in hopes of avoiding it. one night, she had been talking to leo, where she promptly passed out against his shoulder. it was the first peaceful night she’d had in a long time, they both knew that. so, y/n started spending her nights in leo’s room. it only took a little bit of rigging of buford to leave them alone. easy enough of a task for leo. it was a habit they couldn’t seem to break, slowly being unable to sleep without the other being in the same room.

it worked out just fine on the argo ii, but back at camp half-blood was different. chiron had noticed the closeness between the two and sat them down, reminding them of curfews and how campers of the opposite sex weren’t allowed in other cabins. he was basically letting them know he had his eyes on them. it scared the couple off for less than a week.

it started with them sleeping in bunker nine, figuring it to be a loophole. then, following a late night on the beach, y/n begged leo to spend the night with her in the poseidon cabin. he couldn’t say no to her puppy eyes, but he was slightly worried he was gonna drown on his own spit the whole night. they typically tried to avoid the hephaestus cabin whenever they could, too many of leo’s siblings around at all times. still, there were times in which percy wouldn’t let leo into the poseidon cabin, earning him a pillow to the back of his head from y/n. which is why they still frequented bunker nine, just like tonight. leo and y/n walked back to the poseidon cabin, only to be beaten by percy and annabeth, causing percy to guard the door with a small frown.

“sorry, coves, but we got here first,” he mused, to which y/n stuck her tongue out at the younger boy.

“i still hold seniority,” y/n whined, leaning into leo’s side as she crossed her arms.

“yeah, by like a few months,” percy argued back, rolling his eyes.

“so what?! that still counts!” y/n insisted, glaring at the younger boy.

“come on, coves, we’ll go,” leo interjected before the two actually started fighting, giving the girl a warm smile. she huffed, turning around to head to bunker nine before stopping right before percy closed the door. she bounded up the few steps, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug.

“sleep well, dude,” she said, in hopes of clearing the air. she knew they weren’t actually fighting but she didn’t like going to bed with even a hint of a fight.

“you too,” he replied, giving her a squeeze and smile before heading into their cabin. y/n quickly caught up to leo, wrapping her hands around his arm as they snuck their way into the woods towards bunker nine.

it wasn’t too long of a walk, the time flying as they quietly laughed among themselves, enjoying the night so far. leo pushed the door open, gesturing for her to walk through in front of him. y/n patted his chest as she passed, heading towards the dorm area that was off the side of the main garage area. y/n was pulling her hair out of the braid it had been in all day, her hair naturally laying against her camp half-blood shirt. leo smiled at this, catching up and wrapping his hands around her waist from the back, laying his hands flat against her stomach and pressing his lips against her neck.

“what are you doing, valdez?” y/n breathed out, her breath hitching slightly as he gently sucked against her pulse point. she could feel the smirk of his lips against her skin, causing her smile to widen as well.

“hopefully? you,” he replied and y/n laughed, leaning back against him, allowing his hips to meet with her lower back. a groan left his lips at this action and y/n smirked before pulling away from his loose grip, putting an extra sway into her hips, just to piss him off.

“w-where are you going, cariño? Get back here,” leo argued, eyes snapping open as he followed after the girl. she turned a blind corner and he followed, just in time to catch her tugging her shirt off. she looked over her shoulder at him, walking backwards towards the bed in just her bra and denim shorts.

“what? did the repair boy lose his cool?” she mocked, tilting her head at him. leo shook his head, taking quick steps towards her and settling his hands against her waist, pulling her hips against his with a smirk.

“no, no. but, i’m gonna make you wish i had lost my cool,” he muttered in response, moving a hand up to cup the girl’s breast through her lace bra. a moan gets caught in her throat, y/n throwing her head back. he smirked, pulling her closer and planting kisses against her skin.

“leo,” she breathed out, a huff following as the boy unbuttoned her shorts and pulled the zipper down tantalizingly slowly. she shoved her hands under his shirt, running them over his lower abdomen, slowly lifting the shirt as her hands went higher. leo laughed lightly at her, pulling away from her marked skin as he grabbed the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way off, flinging it somewhere into the room. once the shirt was off, she smashed her lips against his, earning a shocked noise from the boy.

“y/n, gods,” he all but groaned, leaning forwards as she leaned back before they plopped down onto the bed. y/n laughed, looking up at leo as she breathed in heavily. he was using his arms to keep himself from completely putting his body weight on her.

“you look so good under me, baby,” leo whispered and y/n smiled up at him, gently setting a hand against his cheek.

“i gotta admit, the view’s pretty good from down here, too,” she replied back, leo breathing out a laugh before closing the distance between them once more. this ended a few hours later, the pair a tangled mess of limbs under the covers, leo’s body curled around y/n’s. the next morning, leo was jolted awake by a loud banging in the bunker, the boy hazily looking out the door leading to the room, being met by festus, who puffed smoke out of his metallic nostrils. leo huffed, sitting up and glaring over at the metal dragon, but ensuring that y/n was completely covered.

“festus, dude, keep the noise down. didn’t get much sleep last night,” leo yawned, glaring over at the dragon before glancing at the nearby alarm clock, instantly waking up as he saw the time.

“shit. y/n, honey, you gotta wake up,” leo muttered, gently but also rapidly trying to wake the sleeping girl. y/n tried to ignore him, attempting to nuzzle into the sheets. normally, leo’d just let her sleep in but he couldn’t today. he took another panicked glance at the clock before reaching onto the bedside time and grabbing the water bottle he kept there for safety reasons. just in case y/n ever got hurt in the bunker, he’d have a way to make it go away. he unscrewed the cap before dumping it on her, the girl shooting up with a gasp before glaring over at him.

“leonidas samuel valdez! you’re dead to me!” she screamed, flicking the water that she could off onto him.

“yeah, you can thank me when you’re not late to training with the hermes cabin,” leo barked back, jumping out of the bed and tugging on a pair of jeans. y/n leaned over, looking at the clock before her face went pale.

“shit.” “that’s what i said. Get dressed,” leo stated, throwing her an orange shirt before he scrambled to a wardrobe and pulled out a shirt for himself, rapidly doing the buttons.

“no, like, i’m gonna be in serious shit, leo. fuck me,” y/n whined, pulling the shirt on and pushing the neckline off to one side as it was baggy before reaching for a pair of shorts that she left a few weeks ago, refusing to put the ones from last night on.

“already did, baby, that’s how we got here,” leo muttered back, earning him a smack to the back of his head as she ran past, tugging on her shoes as she went.

“ow!” he called after her, grabbing his belt and resting it against his waist as he glared after her, the girl flipping her hair so she could put it in a high ponytail.

“you earned that one, hot head,” she bit out, tying her hair up and making to sprint out the door before turning back and giving the boy a rushed kiss against his lips.

“sorry. i had fun last night and while this sucks, i wouldn’t trade last night for anything,” she told him, offering a quick smile before moving to leave.

“me too. but, uh, y/n?” leo called, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“what?” she asked, hopping as she tied the laces on one shoe. “put your hair down. you have, uh, a few…” leo trailed off, gesturing to his own neck in reference. y/n groaned, pointing back at the boy with one hand while the other pulled her hair down.

“back on the naughty list, valdez,” she shouted, sprinting out of the bunker before leo could stop her again. and he truly did try, noticing his fatal mistake as the girl spun around. it wasn’t her shirt he’d thrown to her, but rather one of the extras he kept around for himself. he mainly kept it as a throw away shirt to wear while he worked, something he didn’t mind rubbing grease all over. it was old and well loved, which is why the neckline was so saggy. and proudly printed on the back in his handwriting were the words ‘property of leo valdez.’ initially meant as a way to keep his grabby siblings away from his shirts, but now its meaning made leo’s heart soar and cringe at the same time. man, he was in for a big lecture when she noticed.

“sorry i’m late, just caught up doing stuff,” y/n huffed as she ran into the archery area, quickly picking up a bow and quiver of arrows. she spun around and squinted her eyes at the hermes kids before zeroing in on the stoll brothers. she jutted her hip out and gave them a pointed look.

“what?” “does ‘stuff’ go by the name of leo?” connor asked, causing the rest of the hermes kids to burst into laughter. that was quickly interrupted by an arrow grazing the boy’s shirt, ripping a clean hole next to his ribs. connor looked up, mouth dropped and eyes wide as he was met with y/n, still holding her bow towards him, a new arrow notched.

“wanna try again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy. connor swallowed thickly before shaking his head. y/n lowered her bow, rolling her eyes.

“thank you. now, let’s get started, yeah? unless anyone has any last smartass comments they’d like to share with the class?” y/n dug in, crossing her arms, scouring the crowd for a moment before allowing a smile to grace her lips as she clapped her hands together, “Great! now, who wants to learn how i hit connors shirt without hitting him?”

the hermes kids were quick to learn and the lesson finished fast, leaving y/n to clean up. she was unsticking the arrows from the hay bales and thought back on the hermes kids. she figured maybe the shirt had grease on it or something that she couldn’t see. y/n began making her way towards her cabin in hopes of changing into a new shirt when she ran into percy, who immediately did a double take upon seeing his sister's shirt.

“you’re joking,” percy bit out in shock, staring at his sister with a rage she had never seen directed at her before. y/n jumped at his voice, pressing a hand to her chest.

“what?! why so much attitude, this is literally the first time i’ve seen you today-” y/n argued, pushing her hair out of her face while she tried to catch her breath.

“nope. nope. let’s go, y/n, now,” percy insisted, grabbing the girl by her shirt and dragging her towards the forge. he was muttering curses under his breath and y/n was so confused, trying to get him to let go of the shirt.

“percy?! what the hades! let go-” y/n shouted as he finally let go, the girl stumbling to stay up right as they were at the doors to the forge, catching the attention of all the hephestus kids in there. leo turned his head too, before wincing at the sight before him.

“this better be a fucking joke, valdez. start laughing or i start stabbing,” percy growled and leo held his hands out, trying to sooth percy.

“look, i thought it was her shirt! i didn’t know which one it was, i’ve got so many of those damn shirts! it was honestly an accident. come on, percy,” leo insisted, taking small steps away as percy walked forwards. y/n’s brows furrowed more as she looked down at the shirt, not seeing anything wrong with it.

“you let my sister walk around with that shit on her back!? i’m gonna kill you,” percy argued, pointing back at y/n, who’s head tilted. leo shrunk even more, swallowing thickly.

“she still doesn’t know?” he asked, his voice pitchy. percy then spun around to his sister too, eyes wide.

“what- wait a second-” y/n huffed before taking one of the nearby shields and setting it up, using the metal as a sort of mirror. the two watched her read it and she looked back at leo with a gaze he couldn’t quite read. then, she burst into laughter, tears quickly pooling in her eyes as she clutched her stomach. percy and leo shared a glance, equally confused.

“uh, baby? you’re-…you’re not mad?” leo questioned, tilting his head at her. y/n wiped away some of her tears, still trying to catch her breath.

“no, i am,” she replied, still giggling a bit, “but- i almost made connor stoll look like a pincushion over this shirt.”

“so you’re fine with that being advertised?” percy asked, crossing his arms with a frown. y/n was finally calming down and she rolled her eyes at him, still smiling though.

“i mean, the shirt’s not wrong,” she shrugged, patting his shoulder as she walked past. she then poked a finger into leo’s chest, now frowning at him.

“though, if you ever let me walk out in this shirt again, i’m throwing you in the lake. Got it?” “yes, ma’am.” “damn straight. now, i’ve got to go change then get lunch. i’ll see ya boys,” y/n said, pressing a kiss to leo’s cheek before walking off. once she was far enough away, percy smacked leo’s chest, causing the boy to keel over.

“what was that for??” “dunno. i’ll tell you when i find a reason,” percy shrugged, walking away.

the day carried on. leo was quick to find y/n before lunch, pressing kisses after kisses to her cheek as an apology. y/n eventually pushed him off with a laugh as they walked into the dining pavilion. they got their plates together but parted ways since they had to sit with their cabins. y/n pulled her hair back, eyeing the honey on her sandwich since she didn’t want it in her hair. percy started speaking as she sat down, yet to look at her though.

“so, i was thinking maybe we should do a movie night-” he stopped as he looked up, his eyes catching on the hickeys that littered his sisters neck, his eyes twitching. the neck of her shirt was cut off, allowing it to slip off her shoulder and her hair was tied back, allowing him to see all of them. y/n looked up as he stopped speaking before following his gaze. her eyes widened and she jumped out of her seat.

“percy-” “three,” he started, calmly wiping his hands and pushing his seat back. y/n yelps before moving towards the hephestus table, quickly gaining leo and everyone else’s attention too.

“we’ve got to go. now! move it, fire boy!” y/n insisted, grabbing hold of his arm and tugging him up.

“what-” leo argued, letting her drag him though.

“two,” percy continued, pulling his pen out of his pocket, inspecting it like he had all the time in the world. leo’s eyes widened as they landed on y/n’s neck then twisted back to percy.

“yeah, running’s a good idea. Go, Go, Go!” he agreed, quickly taking the girl with him.

“one,” percy muttered before jumping up and chasing after the couple.

“i’m gonna kill you! it’s gonna be painful! you’re gonna wish you never met her!” he yelled after them.

“never!” leo shouted back with a laugh, dragging the girl behind him.

author's note cont. : for once in my life, i have nothing more to say. the yapper has been silenced. you guys are free fr

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #leo valdez

587 notes · View notes

justmystyles · 3 months

Text

Big Winners - Part 1

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x record producer plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 3,118

summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them.

a/n: earlier this month, all the grammy memories popped up, and it inspired me to write this. i have a million half finished 'moment turned fic' stories in my drafts, but I actually managed to (mostly) finish this one. this is either going to be 2 or 3 parts, i still have a bit to finish, so we'll see.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Y/N and Harry met fifteen years ago, One Direction had been recently formed, and she was doing an internship at the studio where they were working on their debut album. She had befriended the entire band, but she and Harry clicked instantly, and formed a tight bond.

They stayed close throughout the years. Harry’s career, both with the band and as a solo artist skyrocketed, while Y/N moved through the industry and had found herself producing some smaller projects. She rarely turned down an opportunity, taking on any work that came her way just to get the experience and the connections. Then, she received the offer of a lifetime.

Once Harry had finished Love on Tour, he celebrated by inviting some of his closest friends and family to his villa in Italy for two weeks to relax and recharge. Y/N was one of the first people he asked. One night during the trip, Harry and Y/N snuck away from the group; it was intentional on his end, because he had something he was dying to ask her.

As they sat on the moonlit beach shoulder to shoulder, their toes in the sand, Harry leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers. “So, I’m going to be starting work on the new album soon.”

“Jesus Har, you’re not even finished with your recharge vacation and you’re already thinking about the next thing?” She chuckled.

“You know I can’t turn it off.” He said with a sheepish laugh. “But there’s actually a reason I brought it up… I’ve been thinking about the direction I want to take, and who I want to work with, and I was wondering if you’d want to produce it for me?”

Y/N lets out a loud bark of laughter, startling Harry. “Good one.”

“I’m serious.” He looks at her, and she can see that he really does mean what he says.

“Harry, I don’t have production experience on that level.” She says, still in shock. “I mean, unless this is like a lullaby album or something.”

Harry chuckles. “It’s not, but I know you can do it. I know your work, you’re so much more talented than you give yourself credit for. And sure, you haven’t got experience on my level, but you’re never going to get it if you don’t put yourself out there, who better to get the experience with than your best friend?” He says with a toothy, dimpled grin.

“Literally anyone else?” She teases.

“Hey,” he whines with a furrowed brow. “You know you love me.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” The two of them are silent for a moment, while she lets his offer sink in. “You really want me to do this? You want me to be your producer?”

“That’s why I asked.” He scoffs. “But seriously, nobody knows me better than you, you understand me, you always push me when I need it, and you don’t take my shit. Imagine how that would translate to music. I think it could be something really amazing. Plus, we’d get to hang out a bunch.”

“Ugh… you were making a good argument until you mentioned spending that much time together.” She says sarcastically as she rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry says in a serious tone. “If you don’t want to do it, just tell me. But I really can’t imagine taking the next step in my career with anyone else.”

She sighs and smiles softly at him. “I would really love to work with you, Harry. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

His smile grows once again as he pulls her into a big hug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

A few months later, the two of them embarked on their first collaboration, Harry’s fourth studio album, and it was an even better experience than either of them thought it would be. They knew each other so well, that they were perfectly in sync with every chord and every lyric. By the time they had a completed album, they were both confident that this was the best work of their careers.

They were so proud of what they had done that they didn’t care how it sold, or what the reviews said, they knew that they had created something magical and if they were the only two people that liked it, they couldn't care less. However, that wasn’t the case. The record was a hit; glowing reviews, great numbers, and the fans positively ate it up.

Harry and Y/N’s friendship was one that was well known, his fans would go crazy everytime they were seen together, the fandom was constantly shipping them. So when they found out that she was producing the record, it amped up the anticipation tenfold. As soon as it was released, they were combing the lyrics, and criticizing every background vocal and sound to find any clues about the true standing of the relationship. Of course, there was plenty of speculation, but the truth wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the conspiracies and analysis. They were genuinely just two best friends with creative minds that made something amazing together.

Given the reception the album received, it was no surprise that, when award season rolled around, they received a generous amount of nominations. So here they were, in LA, sharing a hotel suite and preparing to attend the Grammy Awards.

As Y/N sat down to begin the hair and makeup process, Harry stepped out to go for a run to clear his mind. He was nervous about what the evening would hold. Partly for his performance, especially given the mistake at the beginning of his last Grammy appearance in 2023. He had insisted on extra rehearsal time, and extended the production meeting to make sure that everyone knew exactly what needed to happen and when. But more than that, he wanted this night to be perfect for Y/N. He had won awards before, but this was her first time being nominated. When they had first met, Y/N had told him about her dreams and one of the things she mentioned was the Grammys. He wanted this for her more than he did for himself. And although he knew she had matured in the last fifteen years, and valued more than just accolades and awards, if he could be the reason one of her childhood dreams came true, that would mean more to him than anything.

When Harry returned from his run, he saw Y/N sitting in the common area, her hair and makeup still being worked on. She locks eyes with him through the mirror.

“Hey, did the run help?” She asks.

Harry shrugs as he approaches her. “A little, still pretty nervous though.”

“What’s making you nervous? The nominations, or the performance?”

Harry thought about the best way to answer this question, he didn’t want to tell her that he was nervous for her. He knew that even though she was hiding it well, she was nervous too, and his nerves on her behalf would make hers worse. On top of that, Y/N was alway so sweet and empathetic, she would take it personally and see herself as the reason he was nervous and end up feeling bad. He didn’t want to put a damper on this night for her.

“Mostly the performance, I guess.” He finally responds.

She extends her arm out, wiggling her fingers in an invitation for him to take her hand. When he joins his hand with hers, she squeezes gently. “You’re going to be amazing. I’ve never seen you give a bad performance. You’re going to kill it, and I’m going to be right there in the crowd losing my shit for you, just like I always do.”

Harry laughs at her pep talk. “You know this is an industry thing, not a concert, right? People aren’t exactly going to be losing their shit in the audience.”

“Good, then it will be easier for you to notice me from the stage.” She looks over at him with a sweet smirk.

“Like I could ever miss you.” He scoffs, squeezing her hand.

“You’re showering before you get dressed, right?” She asks with an arched brow, lightning the mood.

“Not before I give you a big, sweaty hug…” He says, outstretching his arms and moving closer.

“Harry Edward,” she says in a warning tone. “I’m already forty-five minutes into getting ready, and still have at least thirty to go. I cannot start over.

“God, you’re such a girl…” He groans and kisses her on the cheek before going into the bathroom to shower.

While Harry showered, Y/N’s mind was racing. She’d known Harry long enough to know that there was more going on than just being nervous about the performance, but she wasn’t going to push him. She would just do everything she could to support and comfort him.

After his shower, Harry stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe just as Y/N’s hair and makeup was being finished. She stood from her chair, thanked her glam team and stepped up to Harry.

“We should just go like this, it would cause quite a stir.” She joked as they stood face to face in their matching bathrobes.

He smiles softly, still feeling the nerves flow through him.

“Hey, you’ve got this… we’ve got this.” She assures him. “Even if we don’t win, the album was amazing. We made something beautiful. If the academy sees that, great. If not, whatever, we don’t need them anyway.”

Harry smiles and pulls her into a hug. “Yeah, I know, I know. No matter what, I am so proud of what we did. It’s better than I even imagined it would be, and I owe all of that to you.”

She giggles as she pulls out of the hug. “I didn’t do anything. I just pushed buttons and bossed you around.”

Harry laughs loudly. “Two things you’re good at. Being bossy and pushing my buttons.” She gasps in mock outrage and slaps his chest playfully. “Seriously though, you brought my vision to life, and you did all the behind the scenes work to make sure it was the best album possible. You’re the biggest reason we’re here tonight.”

Y/N smiles shyly and blushes. “Oh come on…”

Harry smirks mischievously, he always found it hilarious when he’d make her blush. He decided to double down. “Well, whatever the outcome, at least I’ll have the cutest date in the room.” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“God, you’re the worst.” She chuckles as her blush deepens. “I have to go put my dress on. You changing?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that now. Meet you back here in ten?”

“It’s a complicated dress, might need fifteen…”

“God,” he groans playfully. “Such a diva!”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at him and turns to go into her room to get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, Harry is pacing around in his suit, it’s a simple black suit with a gold silk shirt, unbuttoned enough to display the sparrows on his chest, and the butterfly across his abdomen. He steps up to her door and knocks gently as a reminder that they need to get going.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She calls through the door.

A few moments later, she emerges in a long gown, made of the same golden silk as Harry’s shirt. Harry’s eyes go wide when he sees her. She looks stunning, the gown hugs her curves in all the right places, and compliments her skin tone perfectly.

Harry’s silence makes Y/N feel a little self conscious. She rarely dresses up, and when she does, she doesn’t usually pick things that put her body on display like this.

“Is it… do I look okay?” She asks tentatively.

“It’s stunning, Y/N.” Harry looks at her in awe. “You look so incredibly beautiful, like an angel…”

“Alright Har, come on…” she says bashfully as she drops her gaze.

“No, seriously. You clean up nice.” He chuckles, punching her on the arm playfully.

“Yeah, well you don’t look so bad yourself.” She looks him over, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Is this why you wanted me to work with your team to pick my outfit? So we would be matching?”

Harry chuckles and shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“You’re such a little pain in the ass.” She chuckles.

“Whatever, it was worth it.” He says, grabbing her wrist and positioning them in front of the full length mirror. “We look damn good”

“That we do.” She replies with a smile. She notices his expression grow more serious and furrows her brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… fifteen years…” He says wistfully. “We’ve had a hell of a run, you and I.”

“Well it’s not over yet!”

“No, I know. Will you just shut up and let me have a moment?” He says as he nudges her. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I can’t really express how much it means to be standing here with you right now. No matter what happens tonight, we’ve definitely already won.”

“Yeah, we have.” She sighs, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him into a side hug. “Now cut it out with all this mushy stuff, my makeup took way too long for me to start crying right now.”

Harry laughs and pulls her into a tight hug. “Alright, alright, we’ll save the mushy crying for later.” He gives her one last squeeze before pulling out of the embrace. “Ready to go?”

She nods and he leads her out the door and down the hallway to the elevator. As it makes its descent to the lobby, Y/N gets uncharacteristically quiet.

“You good?” Harry asks softly. “You seem quiet.”

She looks up at him, almost as if the sound of his voice broke her out of a trance. “Hmm? Yeah, sorry. I think the gravity of everything is finally hitting me. Like, it was all conceptual before, just words. But it’s real, we’re on our way to the Grammy awards… we’re nominated.”

Harry takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. But you can’t worry about it, no more stressing out, okay? Tonight is our night, we just need to go out there and enjoy it.”

“Can I say one more mushy thing before we stop trying to make each other cry?”

Harry chuckles and nods, looking forward to hearing what Y/N has to say.

“I… when I decided I wanted to be a producer, my big thing was that I always told people I wanted to win Grammy awards. And I know we shouldn’t be defined by awards, but in an industry like this, you have to have some way to quantify or legitimize what you do to people who aren’t a part of it, and that was my way of doing it. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and this is the first time I’ve been nominated. I can’t tell you how glad I am that my first nomination is with you. It means the world to me that I can have this moment, share this milestone with my best friend. So thank you for letting me be a part of this album. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Harry is taken aback by Y/N’s words. While they were close, and shared everything, she would rarely be so open and vulnerable with her words. No matter what happened at the award show, that moment, right there in the elevator, would be the highlight of his night. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck.

“You have no idea what this means to me.” He mumbles against her neck.

“Okay, so no nerves then?” She asks, pulling out of his embrace. “Whatever happens tonight, we will always have this moment together, and that’s what matters.”

“Agreed.” Harry says, holding his hand out to shake hers. She giggles at the gesture and shakes his hand firmly.

After a short ride in the limo, Harry slips out of the car and extends his hand, helping Y/N out. They walk through security and up to the start of the red carpet. Harry turns to face Y/N, and she adjusts his jacket, making sure he looks picture perfect.

“Okay, go out there and smile big. I’ll see you on the other side.” She says like a proud mom, sending her son off to picture day.

“How’s my hair?” He asks cheekily.

She giggles and runs her hand through his hair. “Perfect.”

He winks and gives her a sly smirk before stepping out onto the carpet and posing for the cameras.

Y/N watches him take a few pictures, and once he moves on to the second pose position on the carpet, she turns to walk behind the step and repeat. Her arm is quickly grabbed by one of the producers. “You’re up.” He tells her.

“Oh no no no, I’m not walking the carpet.” Y/N insists.

“Are you nominated?” She nods, a slight panic on her expression. Y/N was a behind the scenes person, she didn’t step in front of the camera. “Then you walk the carpet.” He nudges her forward, and she finds herself standing on the first mark, posing awkwardly for the camera.

A few steps away, Harry’s gaze is traveling from camera to camera, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Y/N posing, he also sees the panic on her face. He quickly backtracks, coming up beside her and placing his hand on the small of her back.

“You okay?” He whispers softly.

“I didn’t know they were going to make me do the carpet…” She whispers nervously.

Harry keeps his hand on the small of her back, his fingers moving along the skin gently to soothe her. “I know, I know. But you’ve got this, I’m right here with you, we’re going to do this together, this is our night.”

She nods, feeling more comfortable with Harry by her side. The two pose together as they move down the carpet. Harry was completely in tune with Y/N’s emotions, and any time he’d feel her start to stiffen up or get nervous, he would whisper a joke or silly comment in her ear to loosen her up.

The photographers went crazy observing the chemistry between the two of them. Harry was aware what would be printed about them, and the status of their relationship, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to him in that moment was that nothing ruined this night for Y/N.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem! reader

371 notes · View notes

landosjpg · 5 months

Text

boy next door | ln

the one where you come home to a sticky note under your peephole.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none!

notes: just a little blurb that has been sitting on my drafts for a while. i also have a rough draft for a part two because i feel like this didn't have enough lando, so let me know if you'd like me to go through it! not proofread

it was the beginning of july. the warm sun of monte-carlo kissed your skin as you walked your way back to your apartment, grocery bags in both your hands.

you had moved into your new house only a few weeks ago, finally being able to rent your own place and not depend on your parents' money anymore after two years of saving all your job's worth. it felt good, having your own place, even if sometimes it felt a little lonely. but you kept telling yourself that you just had to get used to it, give yourself some time to adapt to your new life.

however, you sighed contently as you stepped into the elevator; in the matter of a few minutes you would be finally resting in the comfort of your new couch for the first time that day. it had been a long day at work, and unfortunately, it was only tuesday. which meant you still had the whole week ahead of you.

while making your way to your apartment through the long corridor, you thought about what you'd make for dinner that night, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion the second your eyes caught a glimpse of something unfamiliar on your door. you walked towards it and left the bags you were carrying on the floor, one of your hands reaching for the sticky note right under the peephole.

"beautiful singing. bit old-fashioned, tho" the note read, a smiley face accompanied the message.

you read the words carefully, the confusion that you had first felt when you saw the piece of paper fading away with a chuckle. you took the bags from the floor and finally opened your door, the note still between your fingers when you made your way back to the couch after having put your groceries down in the kitchen.

you read it again and again as your head rested on one of the fluffy pillows of your couch. you had been singing your lungs out that very morning, right before leaving for work. but you thought nobody lived in the apartment next door. at least, you hadn't seen —or heard —anyone during the few weeks that you had been living there. but to be fair, you hadn't encountered that many neighbors during your little time in your new home.

for a few minutes, you thought about if you should answer with another silly note. it was a lighthearted joke, whoever had written those words couldn't mean any harm. and maybe that could be your opportunity make some friends around the neighborhood.

after a few minutes of considering wether it was a good idea, you sighed and got up from the comfort of your couch and walked to your room, lazily sitting in front of the little desk. a sticky note right under your nose and a pen between your fingers.

a long sigh of defeat left your lips as you leaned back against the chair. you had wasted a good fifteen minutes and way too many sticky notes to count at that point, and you still hadn't come up with a decent answer.

nothing sounded good enough to you. too rude. too dumb. too immature.

why was it that hard to just write down some stupid words? you wanted to make a good impression, to whoever that was.

"britney spears will never be old-fashioned. but i'll try to sing something that might be more to your liking next time."

you read it once again. you weren't completely satisfied by your choice of words, but you knew you wouldn't come up with anything better, and you had already wasted half of your sticky notes.

you decided not to give the matter any more thought and left your bedroom again, ready to end your night with a shower and something nice for dinner, feeling the exhaustion from the day starting to kick in, your body feeling heavy already.

୨୧

your smile lit up when you walked to your front door after another tiring day at the office, noticing how there was a new sticky note placed to the same spot where you found the first one the previous evening.

that morning, you had decided to stick your own note under the peephole of the apartment next door. and truth was, you weren't really expecting an answer. but there it was: the same handwriting thar made you chuckle once again, trapping your lower lip between your teeth as you read what it said.

"already doing a good job, loved today's setlist."

and with that, a few days passed as you kept exchanging silly notes with your mysterious neighbor.

until one night, you came home to a sticky note in your door with only a few numbers written on it. you were quick to add the number to your contact list.

"was communicating through notes too old-fashioned for you?" you sent the text without thinking too much about your words and patiently waited for a reply that didn't take long to arrive.

that was the first text of the many that followed, the note exchange that at first seemed dumb, quickly turning into long sleepless nights in which your smile only grew wider with each reply you got from lando.

of course, the second a few facts about himself slipped through his texts, you immediately knew who he was. it was only natural, your dad always had been a big racing fanatic, so you knew a thing or two about it. but you never expected him to be as nice.

despite of texting back and forth, often using your phone on the sly at work just for your face to bright up the second his notification popped up, you two never saw each other. with your tight schedule and him being away for work a lot of the time, it wasn't easy.

not that any of you had mentioned actually meeting up, of course, but you found yourself thinking about the scenario a few times before going to sleep.

and all of the sudden you found yourself laying on your couch on a saturday night, having canceled on all your friends just to stay in and talk to the boy who hadn't left your mind ever since you saw that stupid note on your front door.

"i'd rather have some rest," you told them. “this week has been exhausting anyway." but you weren't as tired as you made it seem. not even close.

and so, after putting on some comfy clothes, you lied on the couch and turned your tv on, ready to put some movie as background noise while you texted with lando.

"any plans for tonight?" he suddenly asked. the question didn't catch you by surprise, he often asked what were you up to.

"movie and food delivery." you almost immediately answered, and while you waited for a reply, you scrolled through netflix looking for something that would catch your eye.

after a few minutes, you checked your phone. nothing yet. in fact, he had left your message on read. that wasn't quite like him.

you frowned and before you could send another text, your doorbell rang. you sighed and got up, lazily walking to the door and expecting your friends behind it, ready to force you to go out with them.

your eyes widened when, instead, you saw the brit standing in front of you with messy, curly hair and a hoodie over his head despite of being the middle of summer. he had some snacks in his hands and he was smiling down at you.

you were speechless, not having expecting him just to show up at your door like that.

"what movie are we watching?" he asked with a bright smile, inviting himself inside.

click here for part 2 :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine

459 notes · View notes

zamiecmunson · 1 month

Text

scooby snacks

eddie x reader

you accidentally eat some of eddie’s very special brownies

i love edibles. i love scooby doo. i love eddie. can you tell. warnings: weed obviously, vomit but no graphic description, wrote this a long long time ago been sitting in my drafts so not too sure what else sorryyyyy 🫶🏻

‘voila!’ eddie whispered to himself, beaming down with pride at his creation. he passed on doing a taste test as he knew the guys would get pissy if they turned up & he was already stoned. plus he didn’t know exactly just how strong they were. that was the purpose after all, stronger than usual. gareth had been complaining for weeks that he was ‘building a tolerance’ and wanted to ‘trip balls’ without taking the hard stuff. eddie scoffed at that of course but came through with some pretty sweet brownies anyway. he left them out to cool on the kitchen counter before jumping in the shower.

after knocking on eddie’s door and getting no answer, you let yourself in.

‘eddie?’ you called out clocking that the weird fuzzy noise was water running.

‘in the shower baby, i’ll be out in a sec’ he called back. both a pro and con of living in a trailer: thin walls.

‘ooh!’ you raised your brows excitedly at the freshly baked batch of brownies on the side. eddie bakes? who knew! you helped yourself to a small corner slice, after taking a bite you sorta understood why he’s never baked for you before. it tasted kinda funny. but the kind of funny where you had to keep taking another bite to figure out if it actually did taste funny or not. two and a half brownies later, eddie surfaced from the bathroom.

‘hey!- oh. oh god, babe!’ his face switched from a sweet smile to deer caught in headlights as soon as he locked in on the face full of brownie.

‘ ‘m sorry they jush looked shoh good and i’m tryna figure out what the shecret ingredient is’ you mumbled through heavy chews.

‘that would be pot’ his eyes stayed at full screen as he gently pressed his hands to the brownie, lowering the rest of it from your lips.

‘oh, i’ve had these before it’s fine! i thought they tasted kinda funky, i should have guessed’ you stayed blissfully unaware and calm, wiping the crumbs off the side of your mouth while eddie’s heart was going at 100 mph. his eyes darted from the tray, to your face, to the tray, to your face then back to the tray.

‘and you’ve had three of these?’ his nervous voice matched his face.

‘two and a half, technically’ you continued to grin innocently.

‘do you, by any chance, perhaps recall gareth complaining about how the usual stuff just wasn’t touching the sides for him anymore?’ eddie did this thing where he used a lot of unnecessary words when he was nervous. you chuckled at his little habit peaking through and answered with a subtle eye roll ‘yes’.

‘well… these were made with him in mind. extra strong. like, should probably just start with a quarter of a slice strong’ he delicately placed his hands on the side of your arms. there was silence for a while. a painfully long while. you focused on the feeling of it sitting in your stomach.

‘well this isn’t good’ you responded with a straight but calm face.

‘no, no it’s not’ you both continued to stand very still. you couldn’t tell if it was kicking in already or if you were just prematurely paranoid.

‘i should probably sit down’ you broke the statuesque silence, eddie guided you to his sofa as if you were his 89 year old grandmother.

‘i’ll get you some water’ he immediately sprung up again after sitting you down.

you probably should have been more nervous than you were. not eddie’s level of panic but somewhere in the middle. weed had only ever given you a slight buzz and the giggles, surely there couldn’t be irredeemably dire consequences. eddie was running around looking for a bucket just in case you were sick and anything else you might need while you stared into space.

after a while, you could hear eddie talking to you… but every other noise in the world appeared just as loud and 10x more important.

‘oh fuck here we go’ eddie caught onto your darkening eyes and droopy muscles. he’d looked after you when you were sick, drunk and stoned. this was about to be his ultimate test.

‘you know,’ you started but got cut off by how dry your mouth was. ‘your place has always smelled good. it smells like boy, but YOU boy. good eddie boy you’ you blinked what felt like 900 times but it really really wasn’t.

‘oh yeah?’ eddie smiled slightly, his panic dying down a smidge as he was amused. he handed you a glass of water recognising the signs all too well.

‘thank you that’s brilliant’ you took the glass and chugged.

‘slow down sailor you don’t wanna make yourself puke’ eddie suppressed a grin, pushing the bucket closer to your feet just in case.

‘do you think sailors get land sick? like, if they’re so used to being at sea would that make them get sick from not wobbling about on a boat?’ your brow knotted with concern as eddie’s shoulders bobbed up and down. ‘wobbling. wobble. wobbly wobbly wobble’ you started to amuse yourself with a slight slur of the pronunciation while eddie’s giggles turned into hearty laughter.

‘that’s an amazing question that i unfortunately don’t have the answer for’ he rubbed a brewing tear of laughter from his face and stared adoringly at your hazed state.

‘since when do you not know everything? you know everything ever, actually. you always have an answer’ you responded with upmost seriousness. on a normal day, that might have come off as condescending. but weirdly, it gave eddie a huge confidence boost as he could tell you were being completely genuine.

‘i know what goes on in your brain, not sailors i’m afraid. i’ll try do better in the future’ he petted your head like a dog and ruffled your hair. god, it felt amazing. like a head massage worthy of 10 million dollars.

‘what am i thinking right now?’ you continued to slur, smiling into his touch.

‘mcdonald’s probably, though it might be a bit early for that stage’ he continued to massage your head, fantasising about how good it probably felt from your perspective. you may as well have been purring like a cat.

‘mcdonald’s…’ you whispered not even almost comprehending what that word meant. until approximately 15 seconds after it sunk in. ‘MCDONALD’S!’ you attempted to spring up but in real time just un-slumped your shoulders and opened your eyes wide. eddie did his biggest grin yet and handed you back the glass of water.

‘i’ll get the guys to pick some up on their way over. stay right here’ he kissed you on the forehead and made his way to the phone.

‘uhhh gareth i’m gonna need you to bring one of everything from mcdonald’s on your way here’ eddie didn’t even wait for gareth to say hello when he picked up the phone.

there was a sigh.

‘…how many did she eat’ gareth’s spidey senses tingled.

‘enough. too much actually, i’m in for a long-‘

‘HIIIIIII GARETHHHHH,’ you appeared out of fucking nowhere. ‘NUGGETS?’ why use a full sentence after all? just saying NUGGETS at the man would obviously do the trick.

‘coming right up scoob’ eddie could hear his smirk through the phone. ‘and what would you like shaggy?’

‘drop dead’ eddie responded through a smile. ‘…cheeseburger and fries please’

by the time the guys reached eddie’s trailer, you were in silent mode. your vision was fuzzy, skin felt like velcro, cotton mouth was in full swing, there was a constant ringing in your ear and blinking was becoming an actual task. eddie was starting to get concerned but found comfort in knowing food was on its way. unfortunately eddie opened the door to an unwelcome surprise.

‘no’ was all he said when he met eyes with dustin & mike.

‘what?’ jeff asked holding 2 bags of mcdonald’s, slurping from a straw sticking out of one.

‘they can’t be here, they’re 12’ eddie spoke about the two as if they couldn’t hear.

‘we’re 15!’ they said in unison.

‘no!’ he said again, using his body to block the doorway.

‘nuggets?’ you attempted to shout from the couch but it came out as a dry whisper. only eddie heard.

‘hand over the food’ he compromised the barricade by putting one arm out.

‘idiot!’ gareth barged through the small opening using his bag of food as a battering ram.

‘nuggets!’ you said just as quietly but with a smile this time.

eddie clambered onto the couch you were sitting on to place the brownies on the top shelf before swiftly turning to dustin & mike, gripping their shoulders tight.

‘i’m not supplying class b’s to a bunch of freshmen. its bad enough that she’s out of action,’ without looking, he pointed behind to your melting body. ‘i actually wanna get out of this town alive and not shot dead by mrs wheeler, okay?’ dustin and mike stared blankly, wide eyed but blankly.

‘you do know i’m taller than you-‘ mike broke his gaze to point to the brownies on the shelf.

‘ARE WE CLEAR?’ eddie interrupted, gripping them tighter.

‘yes eddie!’ they stuttered together.

‘good’ eddie smiled, brushing them down.

‘NUGGETS?’ you actually shouted this time behind them, still slumped on the couch. eddie did an almost balletic 180 turn to face you, face softening immediately.

‘coming right up princess’

dustin & mike got a slap on the back of their heads for giggling at the pet name.

15 nuggets, a large portion of fries and half of eddie’s burger later, everyone was starting to loosen up a bit. gareth & jeff saved their food for later so they could feel the full effect, eddie wouldn’t even consider getting stoned before you’d got through the worst of it and the freshmen were just happy to be there. they thought eddie was soooooo cool, yet here he was. babysitting you. being responsible… he thought his street cred was over. but they admired him more, deep down.

‘feeling better scoob?’ gareth was starting to get giggly and watching you devour a milkshake without breathing definitely fuelled it.

‘who..’ you remembered to breathe. ‘is scoob?’ back to slurping with no remorse.

‘i don’t know lets ask shaggy’ he threw the screwed up bag at eddie.

‘does that make you velma’ eddie threw it back in return.

‘dustin is velma, i’m daphne’ he flipped his imaginary long ginger hair. dustin and mike shared a confused yet amused glance.

‘does… does that make me… fred?….’ jeff skipped giggle phase and landed straight in deep thought mode.

‘aww they’re girlfriend boyfriend!’ dustin and mike teased, making kissy faces at them.

‘OHHHH, SCOOBY DOO!! i get it now…’ you nodded into your milkshake. everyone laughed. you didn’t understand why. ‘dustin is totally velma’

everyone was arguing about lord of the rings when eddie noticed you’d gone quiet. not just staying out of it quiet, but not even going to laugh at how silly the situation was quiet.

‘hey sweet,’ eddie said quietly so only you could hear. you tried to move your head up to look at him but it didn’t work. ‘too many scooby snacks?’ he gestured to all the empty food boxes at your feet.

‘mmh’ was all you could manage. he then noticed you’d gone green. without saying a word he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bathroom, telling dustin only with his eyes what the situation was. dustin suggested they all go to the park, gareth & jeff too gone to realise eddie had carried you across the room. eddie placed you down in front of the toilet and held your hair in a makeshift ponytail, rubbing your back. you were there for a while. eddie was impressed it took this long, he thought you were hard as fucking nails. when it was all out your system he hooked his arm under your shoulders and propped you up on the sink. taking your special eddie’s trailer tooth brush he cleaned you up with a smile. he always did everything with a smile when it came to you, no matter how gross it may seem from the outside. he knew you’d be mortified when you properly came round but seeing you this vulnerable, being your sole caretaker, was weirdly his happy place. you did it for him all the time, he loved, ADORED returning the favour.

picking you up bridal style once again, he carried you to his bedroom. after placing you down as carefully as possible and moving you onto your side, he ran back to the couch to fetch the bucket & water.

‘ez’ you attempted to call for him for the 0.5 seconds he was out the room. that was “ed’s” in your mind.

‘i’m here, i’m here’ he crouched down to face you after placing everything down.

‘ar ou g wa?’ you weren’t even sure what you tried to say then. but eddie deciphered it.

‘i’m not going anywhere sweetheart,’ he swiped his thumb over your sweaty brow. ‘close your eyes’ he whispered before kicking off his shoes and gently getting in bed behind you, tucking you into his frame.

‘ove ou’

‘love you too’ he kissed your ear and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.

the next morning you woke up to the smell of coffee right under your nose. opening your eyes, you discovered a steaming cup on the bedside table and a distant clatter that can only be eddie getting frustrated in the kitchen. rubbing your eyes you sipped from the mug and shuffled closer to the noise.

‘morning’ you muttered, feeling very groggy.

‘good afternoon!’ eddie popped out from behind a cabinet door, hair in a bun with a wooden spoon in his mouth. ‘do you know how many times i’ve reheated that? i kept having to check you were still alive!’ he giggled to himself, removing the spoon from his mouth to give you a big kiss on the forehead.

‘how long was i out?’ you grabbed eddie’s wrist to check his watch. ‘IT’S FOUR THIRTY?’ you tapped at his watch thinking it would tell you something different if you kept attacking it.

‘gareth woke up in the park today, you should be grateful you had a bed to sleep in!’ eddie tucked your hair behind your ears, laughing. ‘shit!’ he noticed his mac & cheese burning.

‘i’m never eating mystery baked goods ever again’ you thousand yard stared over the brim of your coffee

‘serves you right, doll!’ he winced at the too hot mouthful but continued to shovel more in. ‘anyway,’ placing the saucepan down, he climbed onto the couch to retrieve the brownies. ‘it’s my turn’ he grinned.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine

345 notes · View notes