#hello goodbye and everything in between

[dejavuedits]

TALIA RYDER AS CLARE LAYOUT

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゛✿ 𝒮ponsored by 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗮 🌷.

[in-love-with-movies]

Hello, Goodbye and Everything in Between (2022)

[maya-yaya]

[verblassteliebeslinien]

How do you say goodbye to a piece of yourself?

[genieinanovel]

Recent Adaptations I Want to See

I’m pretty skeptical when it comes to movie adaptations of my favorite books because most of the time there is so much that they change that it bothers me. Last year I was so excited for the Love & Gelato adaptation to come out on Netflix, but I couldn’t even get through half of the movie because so much was changed and it was falling flat from the beginning. There are rare times when changes in…

[twisted-broth]

Their Favorite Place to Kiss You

Characters: Cater, Trey, Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, Lilia, Malleus, Rollo, Chenya

Genre: fluff, suggestive (Minors DNI)

Happy Valentines Day!

Cater loves a quick peck on the cheek! It always makes for the best pic when he can catch off guard and capture your expression of delighted surprise. Every time he can manage to draw a joyful giggle from your lips, he swears he can die a happy man. And it's really your own fault for having such a photogenic reaction

Trey likes to kiss you on the jaw, just below your ear. He argues that it's the best position for him to experience every aspect of your reaction. He can feel the heat on his lips from your blush, see your eyes widen, and hear your soft gasp all at once. His favorite thing to do is to hug you from behind and lean down to kiss your jaw then. This way gives him the added joy of feeling all of you against him

Leona will kiss you on the neck so much you would think he's trying to eat you. Actually with the amount of hickeys he leaves behind, maybe you're not wrong. The feeling of your pulse beneath his lips gives him a high unlike any other. But you should really stop moving so much. Those fangs aren't just for looking pretty, you know

Rook, ever the gentleman, prefers to kiss you on the back of the hand. It's how he says hello, goodbye, and everything in between. When he's particularly excited to see you (which is most of the time), his kisses will make their way up your arm until he's peppering them all over your face and anywhere else he can reach.

Vil doesn't want to mess up his makeup, so when he needs to be quick he'll go in for a nose kiss. His days are fast paced, but he'll always spare a second to give you a nose kiss in passing. He adores the way your face scrunches up when you laugh and squeeze his hand.

Idia will kiss you any spot where he doesn't have to meet your eyes, especially your shoulder blade. His happy place is when you're in his lap, playing video games with your back against his chest. The only thing that distracts him from gaming is nuzzling into your back and pressing his lips against your shoulder.

Lilia is always trying to make you squirm and the easiest way is by kissing your inner thighs. His lips and teeth graze your most sensitive skin until you're trembling beneath him. Even more than your whines of frustration, he revels in your cries when he sinks his teeth in. But if you wanted to grab his head and put his mouth to use somewhere else, he wouldn't mind that either

Malleus would accept nothing less than to kiss your lips. He is a prince after all, so of course he would deserve to lay claim in a spot no one else would even dare touch. Even though his lips are cold, his breath is always burning hot as it fans across your face. Even in the most passionate moments, his kisses are always gentle. Of course he'll still kiss you enough to make your lips chapped and sore by the time you're done

Rollo is always quiet in his affection, which is why he likes to kiss your wrist. Kissing you anywhere more intimate makes him too nervous to really enjoy the moment, but pressing his lips to your pulse point while you cradle his face brings him back to earth.

Chenya lives for a surprise forehead kiss. His face will pop up out of nowhere, inches from your own. Before you can even get a word in, he presses a quick kiss to your forehead and disappears again, leaving you blinking in confusion.

[studiogrimm810]

It Ends With Him

// Jackson!Joel Miller x you

summary: you’re alone. you’ve lost everything and you don’t even know how you can continue to go on without your son anymore. just as you accept your inevitable fate, an old companion finds you and and gives you a new purpose // 1.4k // base content: grief, child loss, thoughts of giving up, hypothermia, you and joel are more than friends, you knew joel from before the outbreak.

A/N: hello!! this is my first ‘joel x’ fic and i reeeeally wanna do more!! feel free to send in requests. you can check out some of my other fandom work on my page :]

The shelves were picked clean long before your arrival, you knew not to expect much, but you were really starting to lose hope of finding anything at this point.

You had been on your own for too long now, starting to see things in the shadows that weren’t clickers and hearing his voice just as you closed your eyes to rest.

Hope was fleeting fast from your veins.

The icy winter air raked over your exposed skin like shards of glass and you were honestly surprised at one point when you found no blood in its wake. Your joints ache from constant trek through the ocean of snow coating the dense skeleton of once flourishing flora.

Just a few more steps…

The words echoed around your skull, the same things you told him when all hell broke loose at the QZ all those years ago. It didn’t work for him so how could you be selfish enough to think it would work for you now?

You don’t know what fueled your mindless footsteps as you continued to hike through the snow, it’s not like you had anything to live for at this point, but whatever it was it wasn’t patient.

It ignored your feet that felt on fire and it belittled the edge you were about to leap off of in your own consciousness.

You were ready. Ready for the snow to drown you and ready to leave behind the planet the fell victim to its own mother. Ironic.

Ice seeped through your jeans and kissed your knees, running along your legs that gave out and settled you in the plush snow. It was time. You smiled.

Falling back to sit between your own swollen heels, snow devoured more of your body, sinking you deeper into the icy coffin you knew to always be yours.

Nothing on this Earth was for you now and the supplies you’ve yet to stumble on during your weeks alone was obvious proof.

The snow froze your skin, inking up your limbs and over your torso. Freezing claws pulling you deeper as you relaxed fully, letting your eyes laze shut.

You heard his voice calling for you again, but this time it was a greeting and not a bloody goodbye. You couldn’t tell if you were smiling anymore because the freezing blanket suffocated your own muscles.

It’s time.

———

Your muscles felt cemented, heavy and stiff. It was different than sleep paralysis, you could move, but it felt like you were buried under mounds of sand.

When you tried to take a full breath, your lungs only stretched so far and the burn in your throat made you cough.

Whatever room you were in was small and warm. Your body trembled, toes and fingers like ice, but you could feel your core thawing.

This isn’t Heaven, you knew it immediately because if it were, your son would already be wrapped around your neck. Whatever is left of your heart shatters and you mentally curse whatever cosmic being fucked you over so hard to keep fighting for no fucking reason.

This Earth had no right to hold you prisoner. It’s been long enough and you’re starting to think that you should’ve just done the job yourself.

Your name is called, but not your mother-given legal name that you stuck to because the only one that mattered after the outbreak was ‘mom’, no it was.. it was your name. A simple spin on your legal name, sure, but a name that only those from the old world knew.

Only people like…

“Here, drink some water.” Thick like molasses and sweet like syrup, a dampened southern drawl that you thought died with the rest of Austin. “C’mon, stay with me here, ya’ gotta open those eyes.” Aged like wine and pained by time, you know him.

Opening your eyes against the scratchy sand blanketing you 20 feet deep is hell but you have to be sure. A chill runs through your body and you convulse forward, squinting in the, honestly not so harsh, light of the room you’re in.

Cloudy vision blurs the face you already know it to be, and as he speaks again you’re convinced that it really is him.

“Hey, darlin’, you gave me quite the scare there,” he breathes out in a nervous scoff. His voice is lighter than it was a few moments ago. “Thought I found ya’ just to lose you again,” his voice is somber, a gateway to his deeper and more complex feelings of your sudden appearance, you don’t think either of you care to sit aside and assess the situation.

“Joel.?” Your voice is raspy and not your own, frozen and shattered from the bitter cold of whatever hellscape Joel has been holed up in all this time.

“It’s me,” he assures, following with your name again. A word that sounds like poetry in your eyes and ecstasy off his own tongue.

“Where am I? What is this?” You grumble out, trying to push yourself up, but the stiffness of your sore, overused and freezer burnt, muscles mock you and push you back into the cot beneath you with a heft.

“Jackson, Wyoming,” his voice is followed by the scratch of a chair that he must be pulling up to sit beside you. “It’s a settlement my brother Tommy helps run. You remember Tommy, donchya?” His warm hand grips your own lithe fingers and he feels like fire. You hum in contentment, closing your eyes to settle the spinning room.

“Yeah, Tommy and Sarah, could never forget them,” you look over to him, no longer struggling with blinking the blur out of your vision. You see him clearly now. Aged, warm skin lined with wrinkles, salt and peppered hair, a scar on his temple and the same glassy eyes that held so much love for you and his family.

You separated yourself from his family for the same reason you separated Joel from your son. Neither of you wanted to complicate your children’s lives so to them, you and Joel were barely neighbors who helped babysit, that’s all.

But behind closed doors, on nights when you could manage to sneak away without suspicion, you were something beyond lovers. Something that defied traditional laws of love and settled deep into your gut with unwavering support in the background. You were each other's rocks.

His eyes softened, though. They dropped down to your interlocked fingers, anchoring back to old habits and quick glances, and he nods only once before speaking again.

“Just Tommy, hon,” he brings his face back up but his eyes go to your hairline where he pushes some defiant strands back. Your heart breaks, echoing the grief of a lost child.

It’s quiet as the news settles and his grip tightens slightly, almost unnoticeable by the state of your frozen limbs.

“Me too, Joel,” you choke out, trying to caress a soothing thumb along the back of his hand but your muscles are still so useless that it’s more jerky than calming.

“I’m so sorry,” his eyes meet yours again, somehow holding every emotion he’s wished to bless you with the past 20-some years you’ve been separated.

You didn’t understand why you were forced to keep going after losing your boy all those years ago. For a while, you were numb and would fend for yourself. Then you manipulated your way into some groups to pick up the slack of traveling alone, but inevitably you always ended up alone. And after each departure from another era in your life, you swore that one day the Earth would swallow you up and your time would come soon, but it never did.

Maybe that’s because there was never a scale deciding what you must go through to earn rewards.

Maybe it was because you fucked up so badly in ways you didn’t recognize that solitude was your penance.

Or maybe, it was the love of your life waiting for you in a safe haven where you could live the rest of your lives together and relearn each other.

Maybe, in all of this soul-rotting madness of the world, there was still a chance to patch together what was broken and build a better outcome for each other.

Maybe it was to supply the loud-mouthed moody teenager that Joel took on a chance at a life that was hard to come by these days.

And maybe it was to watch her grow into her own person, being there for her and finding bits of your lost children in her.

Nothing could pave the cavern of grief carved into your very being, but there had to be a reason it didn’t swallow you whole.

And maybe Joel Miller was the reason.

thank you so much for reading <3

[luveline]

Hi Jade ! I loove your sunshine!readers, could I request one for Carmy ? Maybe someone calls her to get to the restaurant when hes feeling anxious to calm him down idk if thats good lol love ya !

ty for requesting <3 fem, 1.4k

Is it The Beef or The Bear? In your head, despite the wishes of everyone who works there (except for Ebra, who seems to have mixed opinions), you always call it The Beef. But the sign brags otherwise, and when you push open the doors, nothing inside is left to remind you of the old restaurant. It was a total gut. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” says a familiar, warm voice. 

You almost walk straight into her table, distracted looking for brown curls through the kitchen door’s little window. “Hey, Tina.” You grin at your second favourite chef. Your most favourite Sous. “You taking a break?” 

She offers you a round butter cookie from a sleeve of them. Her cup of coffee billows with steam. “Uh-huh.” 

“Hiding from a meltdown?” you ask, taking a cookie, fingers oily with butter, sugar grains falling to the floor. 

“It’s not like that,” she says. 

Well, what is it like? you think. 

Richie’s text wasn’t exactly descriptive. Need ur help with the little Bitch, he’d said. Then, when you didn’t answer, ASAP!!!!

You figured it must’ve been another rant. He’s prone to these… episodes of anger where he doesn’t realise he’s spinning out and hurting people who really care about him. You try to bring him out of it, but he’s a Berzatto. They’re all the same, sort of. Everything that’s wrong with them has been stamped into them a long, long time ago. 

He’s been better since Nat steel armed him into AA, but still. You tilt your head to one side, sugar cookie between your fingers, listening for the goings on in the kitchen. “Sydney’s here?” you ask. “I thought she was sick.” 

“Sydney gets sick, but she doesn’t take sick days,” Tina says with a loving shrug. 

You smile at her in brief goodbye for now and make your way to the kitchen, where you push in quietly. All their ‘Behind!’ and ‘Corner!’ and ‘Hands!’ makes you laugh, and you can’t take it seriously so you don’t, but you’re not trying to be dangerous in there either. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

Sydney and Richie look up from a cramped notebook at the table nearest to the door. There are employees you're unsure of prepping vegetables along the wall, but Carmy isn’t anywhere to be seen. 

“Fucking finally,” Richie says, before rubbing his face regretfully. “I’m sorry, it’s just– I texted you an hour ago, babe, you’re letting me down.” 

You laugh. “Sorry, babe,” you tease. “I have a job, just like you.” Your hands are cold where you tuck them under each armpit, crossing your arms. “Hi, Sydney. You feeling okay?” 

“No. He’s stressing me out.” 

“Which one?” 

“Both of them.” She looks like she might rub her face too. “I need him to be in here right now, he should be doing this, but he keeps walking away and– and not saying where he’s going.” 

“He is stressful,” you agree, though usually Carmy’s stress tends to bounce right off of you, “I’m gonna find him and strap him down for you.” 

Sydney just frowns. 

“I’ll see what’s up,” you say more seriously. “In the office?” 

“Out the back,” Richie says. “Smoking like his mother. He’s a fucking steam train lately.” 

It’s like they want to worry you. You give them grateful nods, sorry nods, and start to make your way out of the main kitchen, past the dishwashers and the dessert station to one of the back doors. Carmy isn’t your responsibility. You don’t have to apologise for him, you don’t have to mother him, he should commit to his responsibilities all on his own, but… it’s hard. You like apologising for him because his behaviour isn’t always on purpose, and he struggles with commitment for similar reasons. There’s this aching, stagnated grief in him that’s reawakening, there’s the stress of the restaurant, his business, the scars of the last ten years, and before that. You know it isn’t your job to come here and make him feel better, but isn’t it? When you love someone, it’s half the deal. 

Carmy shouldn’t yell at his friends, or employees. He shouldn’t chain smoke, and he shouldn’t be sitting on the low wall by the dumpsters shaking so hard with his head so low that you can see the first notch of his spine in his shirt. 

“Carmy?” you ask. 

His head ducks further down. You can hear him breathing, not too hard as to alarm you, and yet unrelaxed. 

You smile without thinking. You hate seeing him like this, but looking after him is a pleasure. “Hey, Carmen. Can I sit with you?” 

He forces his face up. “What are you doing here?” he asks. 

Trying to make sure he doesn’t tear another chunk out of Richie. “It’s my lunch break.” 

You perch on the wall beside him and snap your nearly forgotten cookie into two pieces, one side bigger than the other, which you offer him. 

Carmy takes it. Looks at it without expression, though that slowly turns to a dry ire you’ve felt directed your way a hundred times. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Cookie.” 

“I don’t want this.” 

“Could you just eat it?” You put your own half in your mouth in its entirety, all aligned to your teeth. It shatters into sweet, soft crumbs between your teeth. You talk with a hand over your mouth, “It’s not gonna kill you.” 

Carmy looks at it for a long time before he eats it. 

You watch him. He’s more tan than you’d think, that Italian gene kicking in, skin clinging to whatever sunshine it finds. He spends enough time inside that you’re surprised it can muster the energy. He looks better with it though, his curls look gold toned under the sun, and his clenched jaw doesn’t seem so harsh. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask eventually. Almost conversationally. 

“Nothing.” His hand shakes on his thigh. He turns his palm down to clasp his knee. 

“You sure?” 

“No.” 

“That one’s my favourite.” 

“What?” 

You poke toward a tattoo on his hand. It’s a simple flower, same style as most of his tattoos. “I like it ‘cos it’s just a flower.” 

“My least pretentious,” he guesses. 

“Something like that.” 

He tips his head back. 

“Richie texted me. He thinks I’m gonna… like, I’m gonna calm you down, I guess.” 

“You always do,” he says. 

You give him a long, smiley look. “So you’re in love with me?” you ask warmly, pushing up into a knee to wrap your arm behind him, hugging him before he can move away. “You’re totally fucked for me, Berzatto, that’s fucking crazy.” 

“Fuck off,” he laughs. 

You rub his arm, his skin hot in your hold. He touches your waist very, very lightly. “What am I supposed to do, anyway? I can’t cook. You and Syd are on your own.” 

“You already… already did enough.” He grabs your waist where you wobble on the brick wall, grit biting your knees, his hand comparatively soft. 

“Such a crush on me,” you tease in a whisper, his hair crushed under your cheek. 

You’re tempted to kiss his temple, but affection with Carmy is like oil and water sometimes. You give him a last protective squeeze and sit yourself down again. 

“Carm,” you say, “you know you can call me, right? Like, if you don’t feel okay.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” 

“Or text me. If that’s easier. It’s hard to say hard things out loud.” 

He laughs again. “Sorry.” 

“I know, I don’t– I don’t seem like I know what you’re talking about, I get it, but I do understand. N’ even if I didn’t, I don’t mind listening. Or laughing at you.” 

“What’s that about?” 

“The laughing?” you ask. “You tell me.” 

His hand slides behind your back in half a hug. “Guess it’s funny.” 

“Can I change my mind about the tattoo?” 

“The flowers not your favourite?” 

“No. You know which one I like best?” 

His thumb rubs into your back. “The snail.” 

“Absolutely the snail. You’re so fucking silly sometimes, I’m supposed to take you seriously when you’re yelling and red in the face with a snail on your arm?” 

You can’t see his face with your cheek to his shoulder, won’t know that he’s smiling at you with a rare aura of peace. Can’t see the wanting, either. 

[whenstarsundress]

hi! would it be possible for you to do ‘left on read’ piece with xavier please? 🫶🏻 totally understand if you don’t want to, just thought i’d ask :)

i still have a few of your books and a lipstick. can i come over, or do you want to pick it up?

you hadn’t replied.

hello?

not the first text. not the second. and when the third came in, your heart dropped.

don’t leave me on fucking read.

xavier never cursed. not when you were dating. not even during fights. he was the calm in every storm. gentle and composed.

which is why the knock at your door sent ice down your spine. you didn’t even have time to cross the room before it swung open—he must’ve used the spare key. and then—

slam.

he was on you. not yelling. not begging.

just breathing hard, chest heaving under that soft ivory sweater. his silver hair a little messy and those sharp, ocean-dark eyes staring like they could drown you.

“you read it,” he said, dangerously controlled.

you swallowed. “xavi—”

“don’t,” he cut in, stepping close. “you ghost me. after everything. after how i held you. after how i—”

his voice broke. and then his mouth was on yours in a hot, desperate kiss. like he’d been starving without you and hated himself for still needing you. you whimpered against him, hands pressed to his chest, but you didn’t push him away. because your body missed him too.

missed the way his hand slid around your throat but never squeezed. the way his other hand cupped your ass and lifted you, like nothing had changed. like he still owned this body. and maybe he did.

he laid you down onto the couch and pulled his sweater off while you were already unbuttoning your shorts. your breath mingled, hot and wet.

“i missed this,” he growled, tugging them down impatiently. “i missed you.”

“you said we weren’t working—”

“we weren’t,” he snapped. “but i still think about you every fucking night. about how you sound when i’m inside you. about how you fall apart when i kiss that spot right here—”

his mouth was suddenly on your neck, biting just beneath your jaw. you gasped and your back arched.

“xavier…”

“yeah,” he breathed, dragging your panties down. his voice cracked with something that wasn’t quite anger. something closer to heartbreak. “say it again. let me hear you.”

there was no hesitation as he spread your legs wide and looked at your sweet pussy for a moment. there was no hesitation when he plunged his full thick length inside you, like he belonged there

you both gasped.

your nails dug into his arms and your breath hitched as he started to move. he was rutting hard, rough and so deep. his tip kissed your cervix like an ‘i’m back’ with every thrust.

“still so fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. “like your body never forgot me.”

“i didn’t—” you moaned as his hips snapped harder. “i didn’t forget—xavi—”

his hand came to your jaw, holding you in place as he fucked into you. sweat beading at his brow as he watched you intensely.

“then why’d you ignore me?” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “why’d you leave me like i was nothing?”

tears stung your eyes. “i didn’t know how to say goodbye.”

his rhythm faltered. he kissed you again, and this was the xavier you knew. the kiss was sweet, aching even, showing how he hated this pain but loved you too much to stop.

“i’m still yours,” he whispered against your lips. “even if we’re broken. even if we’re not okay. my body still aches for you.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, until nothing could fit between the two of you. his brutal rhythm turned into something softer, as he rocked into you. each stroke of his cock felt like an apology.

you didn’t know what this meant. he probably didn’t either. but in that moment, as he came inside you—as your name spilled from his mouth like poetry—you both knew it wasn’t really over.

not yet.

I hope you enjoyed it 🫶🏼

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Dr. Zayne will handle it.

Pairings: Zayne x afab! Reader

Summary: Zayne finds out your gyno appointment is going to be with a male doctor and he’s less than happy about it.

Warnings: not really any just Zayne being jealous yet respectful, idk if I wrote him ooc or not… but it’s a learning experience lol.

Ps- it’s a lil shorter than what I normally write but I have so many ideas brewing.

————

Zayne’s fingers type quickly on his laptop, a warm cup of tea steeping next to him. His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose with the lenses reflecting reports and patient files. He had promised only an hour of working in his home office while you stayed with him.

He could hear your voice in the main room arguing with whomever you spoke with. After your tone sharpened slightly, he decided to close his computer, remove his glasses, and see what was happening.

“No, I’ve been waiting for this appointment for two months! There has to be something else you can do.” You plead with frustration.

Zayne raises a brow, wondering what kind of appointment has you so stirred up. He watches as you angrily huff and say goodbye before ending the call. Your phone is tossed to the couch carelessly and you rub your face in your hands.

He carefully comes up behind you, his large hands covering your shoulders and the pads of his thumbs gently massage the tissue.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Concern is evident in his voice.

You nod and turn around to face him. “Yeah, just my stupid gynecologist.”

Zayne remains quiet, obviously waiting for you to continue.

“I’ve been trying to see this specific doctor because the association recommended her, but they just called me and said they overbooked her for this month and she won't be able to see me."

“Why does the association even have a recommended gynecologist?”

His questions hung in the air for a few moments while you scooped up your phone from the couch.

“I guess Dr. Lina is the best in her field. Kinda like how you’re the best cardiologist- most hunters try to see you instead of anyone else for heart issues. I guess it’s the same for her, and since a lot of hunters are women, the association trusts her to handle any issues for us.”

Zayne hums in understanding and places a tender kiss on your temple, his hand stroking your back to relax you. “So, what are you required to do now?”

You let out a sigh, “They can either reschedule me a month from my original appointment or I have to see the other gynecologist that the association recommended… who’s a guy.”

He tenses up and his hand stops moving.

Zayne maintained a high level of professionalism in his interactions with female patients. He recognized that the primary objective of doctors, including himself, is to assist individuals in need. Nevertheless, he experienced a sense of jealousy at the chance of another man observing you in a vulnerable situation.

“And are you comfortable with that?” His voice grows more cold and tense.

You pull your lip that you were chewing on from between your teeth, “Not really… that’s why I was waiting for Dr. Lina. If I’m not cleared soon, then I’ll have to be put on desk duty until I am.”

The foreboding future of being limited to desk duty when you weren't even physically injured was sure to make you go crazy. It was one of the most frustrating things about being a hunter- forget the wanderers, no, it was staying on top of all the appointments to ensure you were completely healthy. Dental appointments, eye exams, physicals, and now gynecology.

“I’ll miss my deadline if I wait for her,” frowning, you collapse onto the sofa in defeat. “Hello desk duty for the next month.”

You glance up at Zayne, searching for a hint of his thoughts on the situation, but he simply exhales through his nose, a silent acknowledgment of your frustration. He settles beside you, and you allow yourself to rest against his chest, feeling the cool steadiness of him. As you roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you pull out your phone to dial the clinic once more. Unbeknownst to you, Zayne’s gaze is intently fixed on the screen, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“I’ll just book with that other doctor,” you say dejectedly.

Zayne's hand clamps down on your wrist with a surprising intensity, preventing you from dialing the number. Shock floods your senses, and as your gaze meets his, you can't help but notice the piercing coldness in his green eyes. The tension in the air thickens, making it clear that this moment is more weighted than you had anticipated.

“Zayne?”

You look back to his hand locked onto your wrist. Little white snowflakes flurry from his arm, and from that, you can tell the doctor is having an internal battle with his emotions.

“Forgive me for my impracticality, but I don’t think I’m comfortable with you seeing a male gynecologist.” You don’t fail to notice the way his voice was now lowered and a chill ran through your body.

The flurry of snowflakes burst from his hand in quicker movements at your words and he quickly lets go of you.

“My, my, is Dr. Zayne… jealous?”

“I don’t see why I cannot clear you for this, I am your primary doctor after all.”

Aww, your snowman was jealous. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Zayne, honey,” you lock your fingers with his, noting the way the snowflakes start to calm down. “As much as I would prefer you to do it over anyone else, the association wants someone specialized in that field.”

Zayne furrows his brow, a wave of frustration washing over him. He knows deep down that he lacks the authority to grant you the necessary clearance, and the thought that another man will see you exposed, no matter how justified it may be for medical reasons, angers him even more. The tension in the room thickens as he rises abruptly from the sofa, his movements are almost forceful as he unintentionally nudges you aside in his haste, caught between concern for your well-being and the turmoil within himself.

“Don’t make the appointment.”

And with that, he leaves the room.

"Zayne!" You call out, but the sound of his office door shutting was all you received in response.

—————-

About an hour ticks by and you never leave the couch, instead just opting to watch some soap opera to pass the time with a throw blanket covering your body as the rain pelts against the windows.

You could faintly hear Zayne's muffled voice speaking to someone over the phone. You didn't want to disturb him, understanding how difficult it is for him to express his emotions. If he needed some time alone, you would give him that space.

By the time the door opens, the main character is already in tears again for the umpteenth time. He stands over you and you turn off the show.

In the stillness, you can sense his struggle to meet your gaze, while your eyes remain locked on his, filled with concern and curiousness.

Finally, he clears his throat.

“You have an appointment with Dr. Lina at 8 a.m. on Monday. Please do not be late.”

Shock washes over your features and your mouth parts open.

“What? Zayne, how did you-”

“Being at the top of your field has its advantages.”

You're silent, not knowing what to say, just overall confused. It would’ve taken you another month to see her and now you’re seeing her in three days?

“One of my colleagues is Dr. Lina's cousin. I explained to him your situation and he talked to her. I guess she was delighted to find out that the one and only Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend wanted to see her- so she pushed back one of her appointments.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Without another thought, you move off the couch and wrap your arms around his neck. Zayne reciprocates the hug and cradles your head to his chest.

“Thank you.”

Zayne's hand continues to stroke your hair, a bit hesitant as he chooses his next words carefully. "Darling, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier."

You pull away with furrowed eyebrows as he meets your eyes.

"You were right, it seems I was a bit jealous." His hand brushes back a stray lock of your hair. "If you were required to go see another male doctor, I should have been more understanding of that. It wasn't right nor professional for me to intervene without your consent-"

"Zayne." Your sharp tone cuts off his apology. "You don’t need to apologize for anything. I understand how difficult it is for you to confront your emotions. Honestly, I couldn’t be more relieved. I had already told you that I wasn’t comfortable seeing a male doctor for this, so you being jealous and taking action like that is kind of sexy."

"You think that was sexy?" Zayne smirks as if humored by the situation. "Really."

You shrug and nod your head, "I mean, yeah. You being all protective like that and realizing you're jealous is something I don't get to see every day. Maybe I should make you jealous more often..."

He lets out a low growl and pulls you back to his chest, lips brushing against your hairline as he inhales your shampoo.

"It would be wise not to push it," He warns. "Besides, I’d much rather owe Dr. Lina a favor than you forced to be uncomfortable.” His thumb brushes over your ear.

“What’s the favor?”

“That I see one of her children. With the discovery of his new evol, I guess his heart had some abnormal fluctuations.”

You frown at his answer. A child with heart problems already?

Zayne notices your change in demeanor and he tilts your chin up to look at him.

“Don’t fret over it darling, I’m seeing him tomorrow and she had already given me a brief rundown on his condition. It sounds like it’s just the body getting used to the abundance of power. It's common in children.”

You nod, relieved. If anyone can figure it out, it’s your boyfriend.

The rest of the night was spent cuddling on the couch and snacking on sweets while the cliche drama played in the background.

———-

Your appointment with Dr. Lina went very smoothly and she said you were in perfect health.

By the next week, you were approved to continue out in the field and the heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders.

Zayne was very relieved to find out his hypothesis was correct with Linda’s son, Ivan. As it turns out Ivan’s evol was super speed and the fluctuations in his heart were just him needing to burn off the energy.

You were glad it all worked out, thanks to your Dr. Zayne.

[voidpvllman]

domestic habits | bob reynolds

summary: while the rest of team is on missions, you and your husband have the tower to yourselves

content warnings: this ones suggestive, a little steamy, if you will (as always, nothing at all explicit) fluff, family dynamic, banter, domestic bob, husband!bob, sentry appearance, suggestive (hiighlyyy suuggessstiiveee) themes, inappropriate jokes, bob being an absolute dream husband, kissing (🤭) you may sweat a little..

you tilted your head, phone tucked between your shoulder and your ear. “i’m telling you, i will not survive three more days of this.” “uh huh,” you flipped the pancakes, smiling in amusement as walker ranted on.

“he snores.”

“you snore, walker.”

“he snores so loudly that the room next to us banged on our door at two am, telling us to shut up.”

“oh… well, at least they didn’t wake you up, knocking on the door and you were already awake.”

“oh, that’s very funny…”

“why thank you. i’ve been working on my standup.” john snorted, “god, you would be a terrible comedian. no one would ever laugh at your jokes.” you scoffed, “bob thinks i’m hilarious, thank you very much. he laughs at all my jokes.” “bob also has the palate of a child and takes your side on everything, even if it’s factually wrong.” you smirked slightly, “he’s a very smart man.” “he’s biased. of course he’s going to take his wife’s side.” you felt yourself grinning; you still felt giddy anytime someone called you his wife.

“how are things there?”

“quiet… perfect.”

“you two are so in love, it’s disgusting.”

you smiled again, “don’t be jealous, walker.”

“don’t rub it in, reynolds.”

another smirk, “can you survive another three days with alexei?” john groaned, “i can. i can’t guarantee he will.” there was a slight scuffle in the background, muffled voices were arguing.

“hello, princess!” you jumped at the sudden loud voice in the speaker, “shit-“ your startle had caused you to jerk the side of your finger into the hot pan, “ah, damn it.” you muttered it, scrambling to run it under cold water and keep an eye on breakfast.

“hello, alexei… how are y–“

“i was snoring so loudly i woke the neighbors!” you winced, holding your phone further from your face, “that’s nice.” there was no need to put the call on speaker. “soldier boy was so angry!” his booming laughter nearly blew the speakers of your phone. “can i have my phone back?” you could hear john in the background, quietly, “seriously man, you’re getting cheeto dust all over it.”

“soldier boy wants phone back now.”

“okay, alexei-“

“wait!” you nearly jumped again; the pancake you were trying to flip nearly became a casualty.

“yes, alexei?”

“when we get back, you make tacos?”

you rolled your eyes, “okay, alexei…”

john had gotten his phone back, finally, “sorry if you have a headache now, he took it out of my hand.” you snorted, “slight burnt hand, no headache.” “i’m sure bob will kiss it better for you.” he sighed dramatically, exaggerating it greatly, “must be nice…”

you rolled your eyes with an amused smirk, “it really is.”

“goodbye, reynolds.”

“goodbye, walker.”

you dropped your phone on the counter, adding the final pancakes to the stack. you had made entirely too many for only two people. you were used to cooking for the entire team, which was usually slightly less food than an entire football team ate. your phone buzzed again and you groaned, trying to put butter and syrup on a plate of pancakes one handed as you answered.

it was yelena.

“hello, if you are calling to rant about a fellow teammate, please leave a message. i will get back to you in the order your complaint was received.”

“i’m going to use that, it’s very clever.” you smiled; despite the interruption, you were glad to hear your best friend’s voice after almost two weeks. “how are things? very quiet and romantic, i’m sure.” your cheeks heated up, thankful no one was here to see how flustered you still got anytime bob was mentioned. “i am just checking in to make sure no one died. tell the loverboy i said hello.” “you realize i’m the one that makes sure no one dies usually? and bob is still asleep.” “is that so?” yelena hummed slightly, checking her watch on the other side, “it is late morning there… …you wear him out?” you gasped slightly, dropping the silverwear— you should have been used to her comments by now, “i— yelena!” you heard her snickering through the phone, “i– yes.” you smirked to yourself as yelena whistled, “have fun, kids. always use protection.” “yelena—!” the phone clicked off and you rolled your eyes.

you balanced the plates and mugs of tea- for bob- and coffee for you, turning around precariously. you yelped as you turned around and nearly crashed into bob. “whoaa—“ bob grabbed you to steady you, pulling you against him secularly with one arm. he caught the plates before they fell, manipulated the pancakes back onto their neat stacks and caught the mugs before any liquid could spill, with a simple twitch of his finger. yeah, he could do that. you exhaled, partially from almost falling, partially because of the closeness to your favorite person in the world. bob shifted the plates and mugs back to the table. once the breakfast you had worked so hard on was safe, he turned to you. his eyes still glowed golden, looking up and down, “good morning, gorgeous girl.” your heart fluttered, like it did around him, especially at the nicknames he used. you wrapped your arms around him, nestling into his chest, face burrowing against his chest. he kissed your head, then tilted his head up to meet your lips. “whatever you made smells good. pancakes?” bob didn’t let go of you, keeping you in a tight hug. he always hugged for just slightly too long. you loved it. the too long hugs, the need to always be close, the hands always roaming your body- protectively, possessively, or just to pull you as close to him as possible. “i was going to bring you breakfast in bed...” you pouted slightly and bob stroked your lip with his thumb. “am i ever going to get to make you breakfast?” you smirked, “no, sir. that’s my job…” bob just smirked, pulling you in for a passionate kiss again.

you had taught bob how to cook in the early days, when the team had benched him indefinitely, until he could fully control his powers. you were more of the house keeper, strategizer and manager of the team, so you rarely went on missions, and never got in the field of fire. this situation meant you and bob spent a lot of time together. it was the two of you alone together more than not. you two had gotten close very quickly. when weeks went by with just you and him, it was really inevitable. you trained together to stay in shape. you exchanged book recommendations, watched movies when neither of you could sleep at night. the team began noticing the shift in dynamic between the two of you and the very obvious looks you gave each other. eventually, the team placed bets on when you two would finally get together, not knowing you were already together.

bob did the dishes as you stretched out on the couch with a book. you heard the sink turn off, dishes being placed back in their cupboards, silence, then the water being turned back on, a curse, water being sprayed, another curse. the shuffle of bare feet crossing the room, growing closer. you lowered your book just slightly, glancing over the top of it with a raised eyebrow. bob was looking at you, shirt soaking wet and clinging to him in a way that left you with nothing appropriate to say. “the sprayer wouldn’t turn off. i’ll fix it though! i just need to…” you bit your lip, half listening, “m’hm… real shame…” bob raised his eyebrows at you. you very clearly were not listening to him, and you had just realized along with the soaking wet, clinging shirt, he was only in his boxers. bob smirked, eyeing you as you looked him over with a slightly feral expression. “do you see something you like?” bob crossed his arms slightly, covering the tantalizing outline that the soaked, clinging shirt provided for the eight pack. you snapped out of it, looking slightly dazed, “sorry- i- what?” bob laughed, tilting his head slightly, tongue flicking out just barely to catch a bit of the water running down his lip from the rogue sprayer. your eyes now held a look your husband was positive he had never seen. “i said…” he dropped onto the couch, arms above your head, landing with a knee on either side of you. you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as your poor heart frantically pumped blood, trying to figure out why your brain was telling it you were now, suddenly, doing intense exercise.

well, not exactly.

…or.. not yet…

“i said,” bob leaned in closer, lips brushing against your ear, “do you,” a gentle nip against your neck, “see something you like?” you swore the room was spinning. you exhaled slowly, trying to recall what the book you had just been reading was about. for some reason, you couldn’t…likely not even with a gun to your head. you finally forced yourself to nod, already feeling out of breath, “very much so…” you smiled playfully, despite your body giving you signals that you were in a life threatening situation. bob smirked smugly, “and to think i’m still worn out from last night…” you huffed slightly as he shifted off of you- just slightly- now sitting just above your hips, just looking down at you casually, “tease.” he smirked, just eyeing you, “do you think it will take the other one- the golden one- to get your fill of me?”

sentry had been allowed to come out pretty regularly, especially now that bob had full control of his powers. he was quite convenient, really. he had nearly endless powers and made everything easier, faster, and usually safer. sentry would come out as the two of you would go on your evening walks. some evenings, he would come out just to hold you against him as you hovered on the roof, looking at the stars, watching the traffic go by. he was the strongest aspect of the team, but bob still was reluctant to let him out on missions; a part of him still scared he would get carried away or lose control. especially if you were involved; the other other one would come out if he thought you were in any sort of danger- or could, potentially be in danger at any point, in your entire life, ever. sentry tended to be much more jealous and protective than bob. not that bob wasn’t- it was as if it had been dialed to one hundred. void, however… if you were ever flirted with, looked at wrong, looked at in sexual way, or touched by anyone, void would claw his way to the surface, taking complete control without any warning or chance of stopping him. he was bob, multiplied by one thousand. he was sentry, dialed to one hundred. in a twisted way, it was quite like having three husbands… all three protective, all three keeping you the priority, all three obsessed with you.

you hummed, hands resting against his hips, “baby, honestly, i could probably wear the other two out too before i ever got tired of you. and i mean that sincerely. in more ways than one.” you smirked slightly at the last comment as he leaned in to kiss you. he laughed slightly against your lips, “i truly love your confidence. but the other two physically can’t get tired.” you hummed again, thinking, debating, “i’m willing to test that.” bob smirked deeply, eyes darkening just slightly at the thought, “i’m pretty sure you like having full use of your legs though, right?” you gasped up at him, smacking him gently. you held back a laugh, he was holding back an amused smirk. it was a wonderful thought, but really, there’s no way you would last.

painfully, rudely, bob shifted off you, “i’m going to go take a shower. probably a cold one.” he eyed you at the last part, amused smirk spreading across his face. you eyed him coolly, watching him round the corner towards your room. you would have joined him, if you didn’t hate cold showers more than anything.

you ordered pizza for dinner, begrudgingly. bob had insisted if you weren’t going to let him cook, he was demanding a night off from cooking for you. you were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with your head in his lap. he had picked jurassic park and you didn’t complain. bob would laugh at you every time you jumped, despite seeing the movies a dozen times. he stroked your hair, pulling him closer against him. “if dinosaurs came back from extinction,” you shifted to look up at him with an amused smile, hoping he never stopped with his questions that drove the others crazy, “what ones would you want to come back?” you hummed as you considered, “definitely no carnivores. definitely not raptors…” “did you know that actual raptors were very small and had feathers?” you eyed him, failing to hide your adoring smile, “can i answer your first question?” bob blushed, ducking his head slightly with a shy smile, “sorry…” god, you loved this man– with his stupid questions that didn’t feel stupid to you; and his random facts that you always remembered, keeping them tucked in your head. “triceratops and brachiosaurus.” bob contemplated, hummed once, then nodded, satisfied with your answer. “okay, if you could be any dinosaur, what would you pick?” bob looked down at you with a huge smile, thrilled that you had joined him in his “stupid questions”, “micro raptor.” you scrunched your eyebrows and looked up at him, “why a—“ he held both hands up, measuring a small size between his hands, “they’re the size of a crow, so you could carry me around.” you snorted, shaking your head. god, he was so adorable it made you dizzy. “what about you?” he was still smiling, clearly very proud of himself for that answer. “pterodactyl. just so i could fly.” bob tilted his head when he looked down at you; a very playful, very dangerous look on his face, “you want to fly?” you regretted it immediately. you were terrified of heights, but obviously a flying dinosaur wouldn’t be. “no, i don’t- i really don’t-“ he still was looking at you, eyes now glowing gold in the dark room.

oh, no.

“you never told me you wanted to fly… you realize i know a guy for that? you realize i am that guy?” you exhaled, shaking slightly, “you’ve taken me flying-“ it was a lie; bob had held you several times as he hovered a few feet off the ground. when he was kissing you, you were distracted enough not to be stupid enough to look down. oh, but he looked so excited. and so hurt that you had never mentioned it…

ohh- what the hell…

“please?” bob had pulled you to your feet, pulling you against him, burrowing his face against your neck, “please let me take you.. just once…” damn it, damn it, damn it. you couldn’t do this. you could not do this. why had you even said that? why had you even considered it? absolutely not. there was no way you could–

“don’t drop me.”

you had to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth and looking insane. where the hell had that come from? why was that what came out of your mouth? bob’s eyes glowed brighter and you cursed. he was pushing the elevator button before you could argue, dragging you along behind him eagerly, like a child heading to a toy store. you were holding your breath. you knew you were holding your breath and that you needed to breathe, but you physically couldn’t. the elevator doors opened to the roof and you felt nauseous. bob wrapped his arms around you and nearly stumbled as you tensed yourself up like a board. “baby—“ he tilted your head up to look at him, fighting your tense posture, “we don’t have to do this… you said you wanted to. that’s the only reason i offered…” you took deep breaths, trying to avoid his eyes, trying to pull yourself together and convince yourself you weren’t going to die. bob obviously wouldn’t drop you.

bob stroked your jaw, pulling your attention back to him, “do you want to do this?” you really did. you nodded once, fighting away the fearful tears that were staring to form. bob held stepped back, hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look into your eyes, “do you trust me?” you really, really did, with everything in you. you nodded once, biting your lip, stepping into his chest. “what if you drop me?” your eyes were squeezed shut, face buried in your husband’s shirt, squeaking pathetically as you felt your feet leave the ground. “i promise i won’t drop you, sweetheart.” you clawed your way closer to him as wind picked up in your face. you could just tell you were much higher up than you had been. “what if you do?” bob exhaled, tightening his hold on you even more, just to make you feel more secure, “i won’t.” “but what if you did?” you heard him laugh slightly and you would have smacked him if you weren’t clinging to him for dear life. “if i drop you, the other guy will catch you.” “and what if—“ he cut you off again, clearly trying to hide his amusement, “if sentry drops you- which we never would- then the other one will catch you. as an absolute last resort.” you exhaled, relaxing slightly.

“open your eyes…”

you did, slowly; it took everything in you not to scream and start flailing in a panic. you were at least one hundred feet above the tower, overlooking the city- which you felt like you could see all of. “i’ve got you.” you couldn’t breathe completely, voice shaking as you replied, “i know.” “hold on…” you could hear the smirk on his face in his words; it was his plotting tone..

“robert, no! don’t you dare-“

his arms tightened around you, shifting slightly to hold you up at a different angle.

“this was quite enough-“

you screamed as he jolted forward like a torpedo, flying above the city like a rocket. “slow down–! robert, i swear—“ you swore you heard his laughter above the roaring wind in your ears. he slowed, hovering once again. he took your hands, eyes coming to meet yours. his expression was passionate, fiery, so full of love you thought you may melt. he brought one hand to your cheek, stroking it as he leaned in for a kiss. kissing this high above the city was invigorating, it felt even more like flying, it felt like you weren’t even—

he wasn’t holding you.

he had a hand on your waist and hand on your cheek but he was not holding you.

you began hyperventilating, flailing frantically to get back into his arms. “hey! hey hey hey-“ bob grabbed your shoulders, “look at me, sweetheart. look at me.” you forced your wide eyes to him, trying to ignore the screaming in your head, trying to force away the panic slamming against your chest. “look at me…” his voice softened, pulling you back to him. “i. have. got. you.” then, horrifically, he let go of you completely. you didn’t fall. you didn’t scream. you didn’t panic. you just kept your eyes locked on your husband, watching a proud smile spread across his face, “look at you…” he moved forward, wrapping his arms around you again. “god, i love you. god, you’re spectacular. i’m so proud of you.” you were smiling- widely. bob wrapped his arms around the back of you, kissing your head and then resting his chin on top of it. you exhaled slowly, looking out over the city, “it’s..beautiful up here.” you lay your head back against his shoulder.

“thank you for this… i love you.”

“i love you more…”

“not possible.”

bob held you tightly, flying you back to the tower at a steady pace. you buried your face into his neck, placing lazy kisses up his neck and along his jaw. he groaned just slightly, tilting his head back to give you easier access, “careful,” his voice was low, warning, “i might drop you…” he smirked playfully. “the other guy will just catch me, then…” bob exhaled, it came out as a low growl, “don’t… don’t bring them up right now.” you smirked, “jealous?” he narrowed his eyes at you slightly as your feet touched solid ground again. you dug through your pocket and pulled out the key for the roof entrance. you felt hands gently slide down your sides. you dropped the keys again, bending down to grab them again. bob stepped closer to you, right behind you, just barely pressed up against you. you sharply inhaled, knowing exactly what he was doing. he rubbed your back, innocently. “stop…” you stood up and faced him, and there, just behind his eyes, was the look. you smirked innocently, unlocking the door as bob backed you into it, agonizingly, kissing you slowly.

“i love you.”

he ran his fingers through your hair, tugging gently, backing you through the door with more urgency now. he closed the door behind him, nearly tripping down the stairs. bob had picked you up, your arms wrapped around his waist. your back hit the wall beside the elevator, his thumb repeatedly pushing the button, as if it would make the elevator arrive faster. your fingers slid up his shirt and he breathed in sharply against your lips. the elevator dinged, the door slid open and your back hit another wall. shirts were discarded before the doors had closed completely; bob propped you up against the handrail on the back wall, tucking himself against your knees. the elevator dinged again and you were picked up, carried, and dropped on the couch- not remotely gentle. he climbed over you, hovering over you slightly, looking down at you with the same dark expression.

you stretched up to meet his lips, pulling him down against you. you were already breathless; both giddy and giggling like lovesick teenagers. the elevator dinged once again, though you were both too distracted to hear it. “surprise! we are back early— oh god.” bob nearly screamed, almost falling off the couch. you hadn’t really even been doing anything that shocking- yet… you sat up, trying to subtly adjust your sports bra, while bob looked like a deer in headlights, beet red. bucky, ava and yelena stood just outside the elevator, bags hanging stiffly by their sides, one was smirking, one was glaring, one was covering her mouth. “i’m moving out.” bucky dropped his bag where he stood, walking briskly to his room without another word. “we were just— we thought you weren’t coming back for a few more days…” yelena raised an eybrow, expression flat. “we were watching a movie…” he nodded once, trying to sound confident as he straightened himself up again, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as you. “a movie…” yelena deadpanned, eyeing him with the slightest hint of amusement. “must not have been very interesting.” ava smirked, looking away from the pair. “we had already seen it.” you smirked, deciding to own it. yelena just rolled her eyes, “good night, люблю птиц…” you smirked slightly, watching the pair head to their rooms. bob shifted, putting his arm around you once he knew they were gone, “what did she call us?” “love birds.” he smirked, looking down at you to give you one more kiss, “fitting.” he stood to his feet, turned off the tv and held out a hand to help you up. he tucked you against him, both arms around you, fingers double interlocked with yours as you trailed him along behind you, towards your room. he placed a kiss on your temple and you thought, achingly, that the others should all be away on missions more often.

***

a/n: i’m not sure how i feel about this tbh. i just needed fluff

[verblassteliebeslinien]

She wonders if she'll ever know another person by heart like this.

[billiesoxytocin]

parent-teacher conference

pairing: wanda maximoff x female reader

summary: reader is billy and tommy's new teacher. milf!wanda comes down for the termly parent-teacher conference and uh.... things escalate..... somehow.... a little heavy on the plot building too, i feel.

warnings: 18+ mdni. legal age gap. cheating-ish (but not really) wanda using her telekinetic powers on you. sliiiiiiight mommy kink.

word count: 2.6k

monday

"goodbye, my darlings," you hummed as you let go of the twins before they went running to their dad, as they always do.

or not.

you stood corrected when your eyes followed their movements, leading you to whom you thought was the most gorgeous woman you've ever laid your eyes on.

"holy shit..." you mumbled, your eyes wandering from her luscious ginger locks, to her green eyes and down to her legs that went on for days.

"wanda maximoff"

yelena's voice interrupted your thoughts as she smirked in your direction.

you nodded slowly, not even the least embarrassed that you were caught staring at your student's mother. you watched as the woman helped the boys into the car before she went in and drove away.

a breath left your system. you didn't even know you were holding your breath.

"she's–"

"hot, i know"

you turned to look at the other teacher, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile.

"how come she's never picked up the boys before this? i mean, i've only been here for a month but still," you wondered out loud as you both started walking back into the staff room.

the blonde just shrugged, as she crossed her arms. "busy woman, i assume. ceo and everything"

your lips pursed as you nodded in approval.

damn. ceo, huh?

you cleared your throat as a thought crosses your mind. "will uh– she be here for the parent teacher conference this friday?"

yelena snickers in amusement, looking at you incredulously as she pushes open the staff room door. "i wouldn't bet on it"

a small pout of disappointment appears on your face as you unconsciously longed to see the redhead again. the 2 introductory minutes you had to see her simply left you yearning for more.

wednesday

"this is so unfair," tommy whined as he threw his bag onto the floor.

you closed the classroom door and turned to give him a glare. he sunk down in his seat under your stare, and you couldn't help the small smile that eventually made its way to your face.

you adored your students, you really do. you knew incidents like these were bound to happen when you took on the job of caring for 5th graders.

"keith went home with a bloody nose, tommy," you sighed as you took a seat on your chair across from the kid.

he looks down at his crossed arms, a look mixed between guilt and pride on his face.

"look, i know you didn't mean it. but i'm still going to have a conversation with your dad about this"

as if right on cue, two knocks were heard from the wooden door of the classroom. you rose an eyebrow at the kid before you walked over to the door, mentally preparing yourself to speak to mr vision.

"hello, thank you for– oh"

your breath hitched as you laid your eyes on the familiar redhead in standing in front of you.

"hi! you must be ms y/l/n, we haven't met"

oh god. her voice.

"right– yes. that's me,” you cleared your throat as you tried your best to dial down the surprise in your demeanour.

the woman flashed you a toothless smile that had you weak in the knees as she held out a hand.

“wanda maximoff”

your bottom lip was tucked behind your two front tooth as you fought the foolish grin threatening to appear on your face.

your shaky hands reached out to take her hand in yours for a firm hand shake.

“y/n y/l/n, but you already knew that– anyway please, come in and have a seat. wherever you want. though, beside your son would be ideal”

the woman let out an amused chuckle at your rambling as she walked past you, the scent of her perfume hitting your senses delightfully.

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you sucked in a breath to stabilise yourself.

get your shit together, y/n.

you hurried over to your seat behind your desk before shooting her another smile.

“i told mr vision briefly what happened on the phone, i’m not sure if you’re informed that little tommy here was involved in a fi-“

“it was barely a fight,” tommy groaned as he covered his face with his hands.

“no, no, tommy don't interrupt. let your pretty teacher speak,” ms maximoff says nonchalantly, her eyes never leaving yours and an almost sinister smile plastered on her face.

you felt heat rising to your cheeks at her choice of words, quickly breaking the eye contact before she could figure out just how flustered you were.

you cleared your throat for what felt like the tenth time since this conversation started.

“um- yeah, the other kid keith, went home with a bloody nose and a fuming mother. i’m not entirely sure what went down, so tommy– the floor is yours”

tommy lets out an exasperated, dramatic sigh before starting off his side of the story.

at first, you nodded in acknowledgement as you actively listened to the kid. but it was when you glanced at the woman beside him and caught her staring straight at you.

you blinked once, giving her a shy smile of acknowledgement.

she never looked away.

and neither could you, truthfully.

green orbs turned into red, and it was as if you were caught in a trance. you watched as her lips opened slightly, and suddenly you felt hot breath on your neck.

what. the. fuck.

your hands clamped down hard on your thighs in attempt to calm yourself down as your mind tried to fight both the intimidation and arousal that’s being caused by the redhead.

you flinched as you felt a sudden warmth surround your body. and you somehow knew it was the doing of wanda.

“jumpy little thing, are you?”

and suddenly it was cold again.

you blinked once, sitting up as you broke out from the trance you were in. refusing to acknowledge what wanda had just said to you, you turned to tommy to see that he had indeed finished explaining his side of the story and was staring expectantly in your direction.

"thank you for that, tommy. ms maximoff–"

"–wanda, please"

you paused and gulped, nodding once. it took every fibre of your being to look away from the redhead's eyes.

"tommy, wait in the car please. mommy will be there soon"

mommy will be there soon

you almost choked on your spit as you heard the words come out of her mouth.

why was that so hot?

you watched as tommy grabs his backpack and dashes out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

shit. what now?

"well, uh– thank you for coming down, mrs maximoff–"

the loud sound of the chair being dragged across the floor cut me off as the redhead stands up abruptly. she placed both her palms on your desk, towering over you with a menacing smile on her face.

"what did i just say, pretty girl?"

you couldn't help but feel small as you looked up at her nervously. you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

she lets out a small chuckle that made your heart do backflips. a hand reaches to push a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, and you had to fight the urge to lean into her touch.

"perhaps mommy will be easier for you to say. what do you think?"

she takes a look at your stunned demeanor and snickers, her thumb softly swiping against your bottom lip.

it felt as though you couldn't move. and even if you could, you wouldn't even know what to do.

she lets out a little sigh before pulling away, turning around to grab her purse.

"i'll see you this friday?"

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, although your stomach was fluttering at the thought of seeing her again so soon.

"y-you're coming?"

she turns to look at you and winked, "only if you want me to"

friday

two knocks on your door snaps you out of the anxious episode you were in. a loud gasp left your lips, loud enough for the person on the other end of the door to hear.

"relax, it's just me"

you heard yelena's voice before the door was pushed open, revealing the smirking blonde.

you let out a relieved sigh, your thumb rubbing the sides of your temple.

"i take it that she hasn't shown up yet?"

you shook your head, a frustrated whine leaving your system. "she's killing me, lena"

she chuckles before taking a seat opposite you, where all the other parents have sat on throughout the evening.

"look, i get that she's a milf," she starts off and you looked up to glare at her, "but you really don't have to be this nervous. she's just like every other parent"

other parents don't put you in a trance and make you call them mommy, yelena.

before you could think of an appropriate response to yelena, the classroom door burst open. a ragged-breathing redhead came into view and you immediately felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"sorry, i'm late, dear"

yelena gave her a quick smile and a nod of acknowledgement before she got off the chair and left the room, closing the door shut.

"that your girlfriend?" wanda asks as she strides over to where yelena was once sat.

you snickered slightly, nervously as you shook your head. "just a colleague, mrs-"

you stopped yourself, remembering the situation you caught yourself in with the redhead just a few days prior. you were definitely NOT about to call your students' parent, mommy.

you cleared your throat, looking up at her to see her already boring her green eyes into you, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"just a colleague," you repeated yourself more convincingly this time.

wanda crossed her legs, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor as she leaned forward, arms resting on her knees. her eyes never left yours.

“you seem nervous, ms y/l/n.”

you blinked. “me? n-no, i’m–”. you paused, glancing down at your clipboard just to look at anything but her. “just a long day. lots of parents.”

“mm. and yet you seem to save the best for last.” her voice was low, velvet with mischief.

you almost dropped your pen. “i—i don’t get to choose the order, the slots are randomly assigned–”

wanda tilted her head, her red hair spilling over her shoulder. “relax, sweet girl. i’m just teasing.”

her smile deepened when she noticed the way your shoulders tensed at the pet name.

you managed a polite nod, flipping through tommy’s file like it actually mattered right now. like your heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of your chest.

“i can hear your heartbeat from here,” wanda murmured, eyes half-lidded. “so loud, so fast. does mommy make you nervous, baby?”

your pen slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor. you bent down, cheeks burning, but before you could reach it—

you froze.

you couldn’t move.

your body locked in place, suspended just an inch above the ground, arms mid-reach, knees slightly bent.

and then she appeared beside you, crouching gracefully, hand outstretched with a glimmering red thread dancing between her fingers.

“hmm,” she whispered, lips almost at your ear. “look at you. so tense. poor thing.”

her magic curled like silk around your thighs, slithering beneath your skirt, warm and electric and everywhere. your breath hitched.

“wanda—”

"don't worry, baby. i'm going to take real good care of you."

a red surge flowed through you, and you were gently but firmly pulled upright, seated back in your chair like a puppet on strings. the door clicked shut with a flick of her wrist. blinds twisted closed. lights dimmed.

"do you trust me, sweet girl?" her voice was low and soft, with edge to it.

you looked up at the wanda who was looking at you almost lovingly, and that itself made you nod without a second thought.

the air in the room has become incredibly thick. wanda stood before you, the red in her irises glowing brighter, more ravenous. her hand falls slightly on the side of your face, and she feels the slight tremble on your skin.

“nervous,” she husks, now whispering against your ear. “or needy?”

you whimpered.

her lips brushed your earlobe. “tell me to stop.”

you didn’t.

“that’s what i thought,” she purred, and before you could even process it, a shimmer of red dragged across your core — not fingers, but pressure, warmth, movement. like she was touching you with invisible hands, everywhere at once. your hips jerked, legs trembling, but the magic held you still.

“wet already? god, you’re so easy, aren’t you?”

your hips jolted slightly, and she chuckled. the sound was low and dark and entirely in control.

“look at you. trying so hard to be composed. miss professional,” she mocked gently as the magic grew bolder — teasing your clit with firm, precise circles, even as a phantom pressure slipped inside you, thick and curling just right. it felt too good, too overwhelming, and you couldn’t squirm away. couldn’t stop it.

“but this pretty pussy’s begging, isn't she?"

her mouth ghosted over your jaw. “look at you. tied down, stuffed full, and still trying to pretend you’re not enjoying it.”

you whimpered.

“say it,” she whispered, breath hot against your ear. “say you like it.”

“i—I like it,” you gasped, shame thick in your voice.

her tongue licked a slow stripe up your neck. “mm. that’s a good girl.”

your hand shot out, bracing yourself against the desk. “wanda—please…”

she hummed like she was considering it. “mm, try again, baby”

your eyes rolled back as you felt her magic, whatever, teasing you. you were so close, but it felt as if she was purposely holding you out.

fuck it.

"mommy, please..."

stillness settled over the room.

wanda stilled like a predator who’d finally cornered its prey — pleased, hungry, and so devastatingly in control.

she exhaled slowly, as if savouring the sound of it. her eyes fluttered shut for just a second, and when they opened again, the red glow had deepened.

“say that again,” she whispered.

you swallowed, voice barely steady. “mommy.”

a small, pleased laugh escaped her lips — not mocking, not cruel. proud. warm.

“there’s my good girl.”

with that, you felt it — her powers humming around your skin, invisible threads of scarlet that coiled like silk. they slipped under your clothes, not ripping or tearing, but pulling. adjusting. lifting. like she was unwrapping you, slowly, carefully. reverently.

the pressure increased — harder, faster, more. the magic rolled through you in waves, forcing you open, dragging you to the edge without mercy. and wanda watched it all unfold with a terrifying calm, eyes glowing as you writhed in her hold.

"come for me,” she commanded.

and you did.

the orgasm ripped through you like lightning, your cry strangled in your throat, thighs shaking as wave after wave hit you — magic holding you upright even as your body collapsed under the pleasure.

finally, the invisible bonds eased. your wrists dropped limp to your lap, and you slumped forward, breathing hard, trembling all over.

wanda brushed a thumb across your cheek, almost gentle now.

“you’ll be thinking of this all weekend,” she whispered. “and next time?”

she leaned in, lips barely grazing yours.

“you’ll beg for my fingers instead.”

then she turned, her heels clicking on the tile, door swinging open with another casual flick of her magic — leaving you ruined and dazed, sitting in a puddle of your own need behind your desk.

read: my sweet girl (part 2)

[moonchildstyles]

fig

pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?" 

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent. 

His lungs squeezed on instinct. 

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering. 

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine. 

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior. 

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form. 

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers. 

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?" 

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though." 

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage." 

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her. 

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified. 

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that. 

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision. 

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face. 

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!" 

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh. 

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal. 

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll. 

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me." 

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." 

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early." 

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday." 

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?" 

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually." 

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too." 

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight." 

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much. 

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off. 

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know." 

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still? 

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone. 

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed). 

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today." 

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips. 

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?" 

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him? 

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire? 

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?" 

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever." 

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him. 

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance. 

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair. 

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away. 

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?" 

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view. 

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night. 

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed. 

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work. 

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that. 

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark. 

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around. 

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips). 

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above. 

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice. 

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky." 

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though." 

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before. 

"(Y/N)!" 

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too. 

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?" 

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?" 

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment. 

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar. 

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night. 

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?" 

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?" 

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you." 

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move. 

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room. 

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight. 

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun. 

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features. 

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth. 

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!" 

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest. 

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!" 

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you." 

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue. 

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?" 

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more. 

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better." 

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate. 

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer. 

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you." 

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?" 

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course." 

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment. 

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows. 

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye. 

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in." 

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't. 

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table. 

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too." 

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted. 

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?" 

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features. 

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer. 

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight." 

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up." 

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight. 

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands. 

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned). 

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends. 

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back. 

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from. 

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number." 

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!" 

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola. 

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—" 

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call." 

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?" 

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do." 

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?" 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public. 

"I could be ready to go home, if you are." 

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright." 

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat. 

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N). 

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels. 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later. 

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off. 

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. 

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up." 

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken. 

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him. 

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out." 

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H." 

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior. 

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think." 

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes. 

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend." 

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination? 

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy." 

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her." 

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters." 

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless. 

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick." 

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing." 

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry." 

"(Y/N), 'm fine." 

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry." 

"(Y/N)." 

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me." 

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking. 

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more? 

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar. 

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. 

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets. 

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes. 

"H—" 

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me." 

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face. 

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

 They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response. 

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone. 

"You want... me?" 

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable. 

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees." 

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission. 

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers. 

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes. 

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so." 

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?" 

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips. 

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?" 

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation. 

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight." 

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees. 

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't... 

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment. 

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees. 

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay." 

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs. 

"You're funny, H." 

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands. 

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight. 

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped. 

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked. 

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah." 

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it." 

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him. 

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough? 

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin. 

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight. 

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him. 

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out. 

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?" 

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?" 

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week." 

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?" 

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along. 

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you." 

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way." 

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before. 

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all. 

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock. 

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure. 

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base. 

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was. 

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion. 

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips. 

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him.  Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes. 

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was. 

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted. 

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm. 

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen. 

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips. 

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.  

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him. 

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open. 

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment. 

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach. 

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl. 

But, god, was it worth it. 

"(Y/N), I—" 

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second." 

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect." 

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too." 

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment. 

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—" 

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want." 

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion. 

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release. 

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment. 

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face. 

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket. 

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch. 

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze. 

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good." 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers. 

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. 

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him. 

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough. 

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping. 

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces. 

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy. 

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.  

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky. 

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time. 

"Jus' thank you." 

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear. 

 "You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break. 

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)." 

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment. 

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart. 

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least. 

Not after tonight. 

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

[honeyslibrary]

Native Tongue | Nico Hischier

Pairing; Nico Hischier x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Smut, cursing? (can’t remember lol), fluff, established relationship, edited once

Summary; Reader asks Nico to teach her some Swiss German

Word Count; 4.6k

Authors Note: This is so simple and the smut is more rushed than I’d like but I still love this so much. This was my first time writing for Nico and I’d say I did pretty okay? Translations are from Google so hopefully those aren’t too butchered 🙏🏽 Love you guys!! Accepting requests for Nico pls send if you have any 🩵🩵 -Honey

P.S: Scrolling Pinterest to find pics for the title/cover and oh my God is he beautiful. The brown eyes and dimples combo will do it every time I’m actually giggling at work I want him sooooo badly

The soft glow of a bedside lamp cast shadows across Nico's apartment, the warm light complementing the muted tones of his bedroom. Outside, Newark was alive with its usual evening bustle, but inside, time seemed to slow to a gentle rhythm. It was one of those rare off nights during the season. No game, no travel, just time to breathe.

You had been dating Nico Hischier for just over three weeks now. Everything still carried that new relationship electricity: the flutter in your stomach when he texted, the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you across a room, the way his Swiss accent thickened when he was tired or excited.

Tonight was simple. No fancy dinner reservations or planned activities, just you and him, lying on his bed, shoulders touching, talking about anything that crossed your minds. The conversation flowed easily between you, jumping from childhood memories to favorite movies to plans for the upcoming weekend.

His hand was resting in yours, and you traced the lines of his palm with your fingertips, feeling the calluses that told stories of countless hours gripping a hockey stick. These were the hands that had cradled pucks, won face-offs, and occasionally, thrown punches in defense of teammates. Now, they were relaxed in yours, trusting.

"Does this feel good?" you asked, pressing your thumb into the center of his palm in small, circular motions.

He hummed in contentment. "Very. Where did you learn to do this?"

"I had a friend who was a massage therapist. She taught me a few things." You continued working on his hand, moving to his fingers, gently pulling and stretching each one. "Hockey players need hand massages, right? All that stick handling."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "It's not something we talk about, but yes. Hands, wrists... they take a beating."

"Well, consider this a service to the Devils, then. I'm helping maintain their captain."

His smile was visible even in your peripheral vision. "Very thoughtful of you."

You both fell quiet for a moment, comfortable in the silence. The soft whirr of the heating system provided a gentle backdrop to your thoughts. Outside, a car horn honked, distant and unimportant.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, your voice soft in the dimly lit room.

"Anything."

"Would you teach me some Swiss German? Just a few phrases?"

Nico turned his head to look at you, his expression curious. "Really? Why?"

You shrugged, still focused on massaging his hand. "I don't know. It's part of who you are. I want to know all parts of you." You paused, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable. "Plus, I think it sounds beautiful when you speak it."

He was quiet for a moment, and you worried you'd said something wrong. But when you finally looked at him, his eyes were soft with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

"That's... no one has ever asked me that before." He shifted to face you better. "What would you like to learn?"

You grinned, excited. "Start with the basics? Hello, goodbye, thank you?"

Nico nodded, looking thoughtful. "Alright. So, 'hello' is 'grüezi' in Swiss German."

"Grüezi," you repeated, the unfamiliar word clumsy on your tongue.

His smile widened. "Not bad for a first try. Try again, but it's more like... 'GRÜE-tzi' with emphasis on the first part."

"Grüezi," you attempted again, trying to mimic his pronunciation.

"Better! Now, 'goodbye' can be 'uf widerluege'."

You laughed. "That's a mouthful. Uf... wider..."

"Widerluege," he finished, his voice patient. "It literally means 'until we see each other again'."

"That's actually beautiful. Uf widerluege," you tried, the words feeling foreign but fascinating on your lips.

"And 'thank you' is 'merci vielmal'."

"That sounds part French!"

Nico nodded. "Swiss German borrows from many languages. We're surrounded by different cultures."

"Merci vielmal," you said, feeling proud when his eyes lit up at your decent pronunciation.

"Perfect! You're a natural."

The praise warmed you. "What else can you teach me?"

Nico thought for a moment. "How about... 'I like you'? That's 'Ich mag dich'."

"Ich mag dich," you repeated, looking directly into his eyes as you said it.

Something shifted in his expression, his eyes darkening slightly. "Very good."

"And how would you say 'I really like you'?" you asked, your voice dropping to just above a whisper.

"Ich mag dich würklich sehr," he replied, his voice equally soft.

You repeated the phrase slowly, "Ich mag dich würklich sehr."

His eyes never left yours as you spoke, and you noticed the way his breathing seemed to have quickened slightly. Feeling emboldened, you placed his hand down and shifted to face him fully.

"What about..." you hesitated, "how would you say 'kiss me'?"

The atmosphere in the room changed, charged with unspoken tension. Nico's eyes dropped to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again.

"Küss mich," he said, his accent thicker than before.

"Küss mich," you whispered.

He didn't move immediately, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips met yours in a soft, questioning kiss.

When he pulled back, his expression was serious, almost lustful. "Say something else," he requested, his voice rougher than before.

"What should I say?"

"Anything," he replied. "Just... in Swiss German."

You cast your mind back to the phrases he'd taught you, feeling a strange power in knowing how much it affected him to hear you speak his native language.

"Grüezi," you said softly, watching his reaction. "Ich mag dich würklich sehr."

His exhale was shaky. "Again," he whispered.

"Küss mich," you repeated, more confidently this time.

He closed the distance between you once more, this kiss deeper, more certain. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you responded eagerly, your own hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your palm.

When you separated, both of you were breathing harder. The look in his eyes was intense, almost vulnerable in its honesty.

"You have no idea what it does to me," he admitted, his voice low, "hearing you speak my language."

"I think I'm getting an idea," you replied with a small smile. "How do you say 'I want you'?"

His eyes darkened further. "Ich will dich."

"Ich will dich," you repeated, maintaining eye contact.

A soft groan escaped him. "Your pronunciation is terrible," he said, but his tone was affectionate, teasing.

"Then teach me," you challenged, shifting closer to him.

"Say it again," he instructed, his hand now resting on your waist.

"Ich will dich."

"The 'ch' is deeper, from the back of your throat," he explained, his fingers drawing small circles on your hip.

You tried again, inadvertently making the same mistake.

He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips despite the intensity in his eyes. "No, listen to me. Ich."

"Ich," you repeated, still not quite getting it right.

"Here," he said, bringing his hand up to touch your throat gently. "You feel it here when you say it correctly."

You tried again, focusing on the sensation under his fingertips.

"Better," he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now the whole phrase."

"Ich will dich."

"Perfect," he whispered, and then his lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, his hand sliding from your throat to your hair, fingers tangling in it as he pulled you closer.

You responded in kind, your hand moving up his chest to his shoulder, then to the back of his neck, feeling the short hairs there. The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entrance, which you granted readily, a small sound of pleasure escaping you.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. "How do you say 'beautiful'?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Schön," he replied, equally quiet.

"Du bist schön," you attempted, guessing at the structure.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before crinkling at the corners with his smile. "That's right. You're learning quickly."

"I have a good teacher," you replied, running your fingers lightly through his hair.

He closed his eyes briefly at your touch, then opened them again, his gaze intense. "It's strange," he said softly.

"What is?" you asked, still running your fingers through his hair.

"Hearing someone speak my language... it's like hearing a piece of home." He caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. "Especially someone I care about."

The tenderness in his gesture made your heart flutter. "Even if my pronunciation is terrible?"

"Especially then," he laughed softly. "It's... I don't know how to explain it. When you speak English, you're just you. But when you try to speak Swiss German..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "It's like you're reaching for a part of me that not many people here get to see."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "I want to see all parts of you, Nico."

His eyes darkened at that, and he shifted slightly, bringing himself closer to you. "Say it again," he murmured.

"What?"

"Ich will dich," he prompted.

You repeated the phrase, trying your best to match his pronunciation, "Ich will dich."

A small groan escaped him, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, more urgent than before. His hand moved to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek as his tongue sought entrance, which you granted eagerly.

When you broke apart, both breathing heavily, there was an unmistakable hunger in his eyes. "I don't know why it affects me so much," he admitted. "Hearing you speak Swiss German. It just... does something to me."

You smiled, feeling a surge of power at the knowledge. "Then I should probably keep practicing," you said, your tone deliberately innocent even as you shifted closer, eliminating the last bit of space between your bodies.

"Absolutely," he agreed, his hand moving to your waist, fingers slipping just under the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin. "It's important to practice."

"Küss mich," you whispered, remembering the phrase he'd taught you earlier.

He didn't need to be told twice, his lips finding yours again as his hand splayed across your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the solid strength of him as he held you.

"One more phrase," you breathed when you separated for air. "How do you say 'I want you to touch me'?"

His eyes, already dark with desire, seemed to grow even more intense. "Ich will, dass du mich berührst," he replied, his accent thicker than usual.

You tried to repeat it, stumbling over the unfamiliar sounds, and he smiled, the expression somehow both tender and predatory.

"Close enough," he murmured, and then his hand was moving, tracing a path up your side with deliberate slowness.

"And how do you say 'don't stop'?" you asked, your voice catching as his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

"Hör nicht auf," he told you, watching your face intently.

"Hör nicht auf," you repeated, the words turning into a soft gasp as his touch became more purposeful.

His hand slid higher beneath your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your ribs tantalizingly slow. The warmth of his palm against your skin sent shivers down your spine, each touch igniting something deep within you. His eyes remained fixed on yours, gauging your reactions, seeming to find satisfaction in every small catch of your breath.

"Another phrase?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that you could feel through his chest where it pressed against yours.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as his thumb traced lazy circles just below the underwire of your bra.

"How about 'please'?" you managed, your voice slightly unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small smile. "Bitte."

"Bitte," you echoed, the word barely audible.

Something flashed in his eyes. Hunger, affection, and something deeper that made your heart race. "Say it again," he instructed, his hand stilling its movement.

You understood his game immediately. "Bitte," you repeated, more urgently this time.

His smile widened slightly, satisfaction evident in his expression as his hand resumed its exploration, this time venturing higher. His touch was confident but gentle, asking permission without words.

"Yes," you breathed, answering his unspoken question.

And then his mouth was on yours again, hot and demanding, as his hand finally moved to cup your breast over your bra. You arched into his touch, a small moan escaping into his mouth. He swallowed the sound, his kiss deepening as his thumb brushed over the fabric covering your nipple.

Your own hands weren't idle, moving to explore the firm planes of his chest through his t-shirt. You could feel the defined muscles beneath the soft cotton, the result of years of athletic training. Feeling emboldened, you tugged at the hem, silently asking for permission to remove it.

Nico broke the kiss long enough to help you, sitting up slightly and pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion before tossing it aside. You took a moment to admire him: the broad shoulders, the lean muscle, the scattered freckles across his skin that you'd never noticed before.

"Schön," you said softly, using one of the few words he'd called you that seemed appropriate.

His expression softened at your use of his language. "That's my line," he replied, reaching to touch your face with gentle fingers. "Du bist wunderschön."

"What does that mean?" you asked, leaning into his touch.

"You are beautiful," he translated, his eyes never leaving yours.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion. You leaned forward to press your lips to his collarbone, then moved higher to the sensitive spot just beneath his ear that you'd discovered during your earlier make-out sessions. He inhaled sharply, his hand moving to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

"Your turn," he murmured, tugging lightly at the bottom of your shirt.

You nodded, allowing him to help you remove it. The cool air of the room raised goosebumps on your newly exposed skin, but they were quickly replaced by warmth as Nico's hands moved to your waist, drawing you closer again.

His kisses became more insistent, trailing from your lips to your jaw, then down your neck. You tilted your head to give him better access, sighing with pleasure as he found a particularly sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

"How do you say 'more'?" you asked breathlessly.

"Meh," he replied against your skin, the word followed by a gentle nip that made you gasp.

"Meh," you repeated, and felt him smile against your neck before he continued his exploration, his mouth moving lower to the swell of your breasts above your bra.

His hands found the clasp of your bra, but he paused, looking up to meet your eyes. "Is this okay?" he asked, suddenly serious.

You appreciated his care, his constant checking in. It was one of the things that had drawn you to him, his consideration, his respect, his unwillingness to assume.

"Yes," you nodded, adding with a small smile, "Ja."

He unhooked your bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your arms and setting it aside. There was reverence in his gaze as he looked at you, his hands coming up to cup your breasts with gentle pressure.

"Beautiful," he whispered, this time in English.

You felt a flush spread across your chest and up to your cheeks, but there was no embarrassment in it, only warmth at the naked admiration in his eyes. He lowered his head, replacing one of his hands with his mouth, and you arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

His tongue circled your nipple before taking it between his lips, the gentle suction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Your hand moved to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, encouraging him.

"Nico," you breathed, his name a prayer on your lips.

He hummed in response, the vibration adding another layer to the sensation. His free hand wasn't idle, moving to give your other breast equal attention, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak in rhythm with his mouth.

The dual stimulation was intoxicating, but you wanted more. Your hands moved down his back, feeling the shift of muscle beneath warm skin as he moved. You traced the ridge of his spine, then moved lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

He lifted his head from your breast, eyes dark with desire as they met yours. "Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough.

You considered using one of the Swiss German phrases he'd taught you, but in this moment, you wanted complete clarity. "I want to feel you," you said simply. "All of you."

His expression grew serious, though the hunger in his eyes didn't diminish. "Are you sure? We don't have to rush anything."

The care in his question made your heart swell. Three weeks wasn't a very long time, but in those weeks, you'd spent nearly every free moment that he had together. You'd talked for hours, shared meals, watched games, exchanged stories about your lives. There had been countless kisses, increasingly heated make-out sessions, but you'd both been content to take things slowly. Until now.

"I'm sure," you nodded, reaching up to touch his face. "I want this. I want you."

He turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, the gesture unexpectedly tender amidst the heat of the moment. "I want you too," he replied, his accent thicker than usual with emotion. "But we go at your pace, okay? You tell me if you want to stop, anytime."

"I will," you promised.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, then leaned down to capture your lips again. This kiss was different—slower, deeper, more deliberate. His hands moved to your waist, then lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He looked at you again, a silent question, and you nodded.

With careful movements, he unbuttoned your jeans and helped you shimmy out of them, leaving you in just your underwear. His eyes traveled over your body with appreciation, but there was also something protective in his gaze.

"Your turn," you said, reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants.

He helped you, pushing them down and kicking them off. Now both of you were down to your underwear, the thin fabrics the only barrier between you. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the knowledge that you affected him so strongly was intoxicating.

His hand moved to your hip, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear. "May I?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Please," you nodded, adding with a small smile, "Bitte."

The corner of his mouth quirked up at your use of Swiss German. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he slid your underwear down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire on your skin. Once they were removed, he took a moment just to look at you, his expression a mix of desire and something that looked remarkably like awe.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, shaking his head slightly as if in disbelief. "I don't know what I did to deserve this."

"You're just you," you replied simply, reaching for him. "That's more than enough."

He came willingly into your arms, his body covering yours, the weight of him a delicious pressure. You could feel every inch where your skin touched his, chest to chest, hip to hip, legs tangled together. His hand moved between your bodies, fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, then lower, seeking permission in your eyes before venturing further.

You nodded, your breath catching as his fingers found your core, exploring with gentle curiosity. He watched your face intently, learning what made your breath hitch, what made your back arch, what drew sounds of pleasure from your throat.

"Küss mich," you whispered, remembering the phrase he'd taught you earlier.

His eyes darkened at your use of his language, and he leaned down to comply, his kiss hungry and deep as his fingers continued their skilled movements. You were lost in sensation, the world narrowing to just this, his touch, his taste, the weight of him above you.

When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes were serious. "Do you want to continue?" he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

"Yes," you nodded without hesitation. "Do you have...?"

"Protection? Yes," he confirmed, reaching toward the nightstand drawer.

You took the opportunity to help him remove his boxers, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of him fully naked. He was beautiful. All lean muscle and smooth skin, his body a testament to years of athletic discipline.

He retrieved a condom from the drawer, and you watched as he rolled it on with practiced movements. Then he was hovering over you again, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of your head, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked one more time, his voice gentle.

The care in his question made your heart swell. "I'm sure," you nodded, reaching up to touch his face. "Ich will dich," you added, using the phrase he'd taught you earlier.

A groan escaped him at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you deeply as he positioned himself. "Tell me if you need me to stop," he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he began to push forward, entering you with carefully slow. The sensation was intense, and you focused on your breathing, on relaxing, on the feeling of him gradually filling you.

When he was fully seated, he paused, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing as uneven as your own. "Okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice despite the strain of holding still.

"More than okay," you assured him, shifting your hips slightly to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. "You can move."

He started slowly, with gentle, measured thrusts that allowed both of you to adjust to the sensation. His eyes never left yours, watching for any sign of discomfort, but all he would find was pleasure building with each movement.

Gradually, as your body relaxed and welcomed him, his pace increased. Your hands moved to his back, feeling the play of muscles as he moved above you, within you. The room filled with the sounds of your combined breathing, occasional moans, and the rustle of sheets.

"Okay?" he asked again, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.

"Yes," you gasped, arching to meet his thrusts. "Don't stop—Hör nicht auf."

His rhythm faltered momentarily at your use of Swiss German, a groan escaping him. "You're killing me," he muttered, but there was affection in his tone beneath the desire.

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly stars exploded behind your eyelids as he hit a spot deep within you that sent pleasure coursing through your veins. "There," you breathed, "right there."

Understanding immediately, he maintained the angle, his thrusts becoming more purposeful. One of his hands moved between your bodies, finding the bundle of nerves at your center, circling with just the right pressure.

The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly within you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation.

"Nico," you gasped, feeling the tension coiling tighter.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice strained but reassuring. "Let go. I want to see you."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his hips and fingers, pushed you over the edge. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body arching against his as you cried out his name. He worked you through it, his movements slowing but not stopping, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible.

As you came down from your high, you became aware of his still-rigid length inside you, of the tension in his muscles as he held himself in check. You reached up to touch his face, bringing his eyes to meet yours.

"Your turn," you said softly, clenching around him.

A groan tore from his throat, his control visibly slipping. "Are you sure? I can—"

"I want to feel you," you cut him off, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. "Let go."

Something in your eyes must have convinced him, because with a shuddering breath, he began to move again, his rhythm more urgent now. You watched his face, fascinated by the play of emotions: pleasure, concentration, and something deeper that made your heart race.

His movements became more erratic, his breathing harsh, and you knew he was close. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down so that your bodies were pressed together, chest to chest.

"Ich will dich," you whispered in his ear, remembering how strongly he'd reacted to you speaking his language earlier.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, deep and guttural, his hips jerking against yours as he found his release. You held him through it, hands stroking his back, murmuring encouragement as he shuddered above you.

For a long moment afterward, neither of you moved, content to stay connected, his weight a pleasant pressure, his breath warm against your neck. Finally, he shifted, carefully separating from you and moving to dispose of the condom in the bathroom.

When he returned, he immediately gathered you back into his arms, pulling the rumpled sheets over both of your cooling bodies. You settled against his chest, listening to the gradually slowing beat of his heart, feeling utterly content.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a while, his voice soft in the dim room.

You nodded against his chest. "More than okay."

His hand moved to stroke your hair, gentle and soothing. "That was..." he seemed to search for the right word.

"Amazing?" you supplied, tilting your head to look at him.

He smiled, the expression soft and genuine. "Amazing," he agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "But I meant what happened between us. It's not just physical for me."

The vulnerability in his admission made your heart swell. "It's not just physical for me either," you assured him, reaching up to touch his face. "I really care about you, Nico."

His eyes softened at your words. "I care about you too," he replied, his accent thicker with emotion. "Very much."

You settled back against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. Outside, Newark continued its evening bustle, car horns honking and sirens wailing in the distance. But in here, in the soft glow of Edison bulbs, there was just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and newfound intimacy.

"Teach me one more phrase," you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

"What would you like to know?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath your ear.

You thought for a moment. "How do you say 'stay with me'?"

He was quiet for a beat, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Blieb bi mir."

You repeated it, looking up to meet his eyes as you did. "Blieb bi mir."

His expression was tender as he looked down at you. "As long as you'll have me," he promised, pulling you closer.

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE

[saintsanddevils]

hello there I love your stories so much would you be interested in doing a Garrick smut !!

Beg For It

Garrick Tavis x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: When Garrick comes back after being gone for so long, you don’t waste any time.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️ graphic smut, a whole lot of fluff, inappropriate use of Garrick’s signet (minor Onyx Storm spoiler)

Author’s Note: The way I stopped everything to write this. I was excited about it haha

Word Count: 3.3K

Posted on AO3

Masterlist

————

A knock at the door has me glancing at the clock on the mantel.

Who would be up at this hour?

Anxiety hits me, wondering if Venin have crossed the border or breached the wards of Tyrrendor. But if that was so, wouldn’t the bells be ringing? People stampeding in the hall? Dragons roaring in the distance?

I slowly get to my feet, grabbing a robe to cover the white lace nightdress that reaches to the tops of my thighs. If someone is here with a missive or I’m needed in battle, I’m definitely screwed in this outfit.

If it’s not anything life-threatening or imminent, I’ll be so pissed. Whoever is at the door is interrupting my only time to relax while at Riorson house. I’ve been re-reading Garrick’s latest letters by the fireplace.

A hollow ache burrows in my heart. It’s been five weeks since I’ve seen him. Over a month since I’ve held him in my arms, kissed him, or felt his curls beneath my fingers. Every day without him has been eating me alive.

The last time I saw him, he was rushing onto the flight field with me on his heels. Xaden had already taken to the skies after a long goodbye with Violet. Now, Garrick was expected to go with him, as always. I’d resent Xaden if I didn’t trust him with my life. Or, in this case, Garrick’s life. It’s because of this that I know he’ll bring Garrick back to me.

Rushing towards Chradh, Garrick had caught sight of Xaden overhead before whirling to me. He crashed into me, gravity pulling us together as he kissed the life out of me. His grip was hard and desperate before slowly loosening, caressing me. When his forehead met mine, I knew I wouldn’t see him for a very long time.

“You know I love you?” he whispered.

I nodded, tears choking me as he kissed me one last time.

Another knock at the door, this one more desperate, brings me out of my memories. I huff in annoyance before throwing open the door.

I immediately freeze.

“Garrick?” My whisper is full of uncertainty.

On the threshold, just beyond reach of the wards placed on the room, a man tall enough to tower over me with fair skin, dark curls, and heartbreaking hazel eyes grips the doorframe.

Garrick Tavis.

Heart pounding, I stare in open shock, wondering if this is a dream. Maybe I fell asleep by the fire and I’ll wake up soon to find that he’s not actually here.

Garrick’s eyes burn into me as he whispers my name like a prayer that’s been answered. The way he’s looking at me… It’s as if I’m air and he’s drowning, dying to reach for me with his last breath. It’s intoxicating to behold.

This feels entirely too real to be a dream.

His nostrils flare as he takes in my attire. His gaze scorching my skin as he scans me, slowly, methodically. Memorizing me.

“Well, fuck me,” he mutters. “If this is how you greet me after a month, I should leave more often.”

No way in hell is this a dream.

I bolt forward, gripping his leathers by the collar to pull him through the wards— pulling him into our room.

Copying Xaden months ago, Garrick ensured when he was gone, I’d be safe in our room. Even he couldn’t get in without my permission. It was part of his many backup plans and safety precautions when it came to me.

“You’re the only important person in my life,” he had whispered against my skin many months ago after setting up the wards. “I have to keep you safe. Promise me you’ll be safe?”

And I’ve been keeping that promise. Every day, hoping he’ll come home to me and stay longer between each time he’s allowed leave back to Riorson house.

And like every time before, he’s back.

Once Garrick is through the wards and standing before me, we collide.

Lips and teeth crash together, tongues intertwining as Garrick wraps around me, holding me tight. I grip him just as hard as I kiss him. His lips, gods, his lips are everything. I’ve missed him far too much to waste any time.

He’s taller than me, being dubbed “the Big One” by Violet. I remember fully agreeing with her when she told me. The top of my head can barely reach his shoulders. So while he towers over me, I use my height to my advantage and touch every inch of his torso, ensuring he’s actually here. His broad shoulders. The edges of the mark on his skin seen above his leathers. His dark curls. Even the tan marks of his flight goggles.

Garrick breaks from the kiss first. When our eyes meet, we both smile wide and carefree. At the same time, we tear off his flight jacket, revealing his well-built frame covered in a tight shirt that outlines his rippling muscles.

Gods, I missed him.

He rips the robe from my shoulders, tossing it over his shoulder as he dives back in to kiss me. His hands gripping my waist as my fingers hold on to his biceps.

The feel of him sends electric shockwaves up my nerves. Everything is entirely familiar, but different. More than a month away from one another feels like an eternity as I reach to grip the back of his head, bringing him closer as his teeth bite my bottom lip.

I moan into his mouth, sliding my free hand beneath his shirt. Skating my fingertips across his abdomen till I get to the rim of his pants, Garrick sucks in a breath. I toy with the button, pulling until it gives.

Slowly, I slip my hands beneath his pants, skimming his briefs before my fingers meet warm, veiny skin. Garrick pants against me, my pulse racing alongside his as my hand grips his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans.

I leisurely take my time sliding my skin over his— teasing, taunting. Garrick’s hands shake as they move from my waist down to my hips, pulling me closer. When I get to the head of his cock, my mouth waters at the feel of precum already dripping from the tip. With my thumb, I smooth it over the skin, pumping my hand once, twice, another before he grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Baby, I’ve waited too long to have you,” his voice rough with desperation. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

I smirk. “Maybe I want you to.”

He huffs a laugh. “I know you’d love that, but I’ve had enough lonely nights to last me for the last five weeks.” He suddenly moves me backwards until my back hits the wall. “I need you.”

He bends forward, kissing my forehead, before tracing his lips to my temple. I exhale when his lips move to my cheek, stopping to smirk into my skin.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I confess, breathing in the smell of him.

Garrick’s mouth glides across my jaw before hovering over my swollen lips. “I missed you too, love.”

Warmth spreads through my limbs like I’m soaking in the sun. He kisses me briefly, before moving his mouth to my jaw. Breath hitching when his teeth prick at my pulse before his tongue slides along my collarbone.

“This dress,” he breathes, making the exposed flesh of my skin pebble. “Gods, you’ll be the death of me.”

His teeth latch to the top of the lace, pulling the fabric downward until my breast is fully exposed. The air is cool against my heated skin as Garrick takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over my nipple. He sucks, long, deep, and hard before pulling gently with his teeth, making me gasp.

My head falls back, hitting the wall as I close my eyes, lost to the feel of his lips and teeth. His hand yanks the rest of the material down, a ripping sound filling the silence of the room.

“I’ll buy you twenty more pairs of this exact dress, I promise.”

I laugh at the breathless sound of his voice, smiling towards the ceiling as he begins to nip at my other breast. The lace dress falls from my shoulders, pooling at my feet.

In only my matching lace panties, I feel Garrick still against me. I look down to find he’s now kneeling, his face inches from my underwear, gazing up at me through his lashes.

“They were a set,” I wink.

Garrick’s pupils are wide as he looks down at the lace. “Fuck, I love you and your shopping habits so much.”

A belly laugh escapes me, causing Garrick to join in as he nuzzles my abdomen before tracing his fingers over the garment.

He whispers my name, like a siren call, and I meet those lust-filled hazel eyes as he places a gentle kiss on my stomach.

This is love. We’ve had plenty of dark days, but it’s these quiet moments, the ones where we can find the light in the dark, that matter the most. Every laugh, caress, and smile he gives me is a gift. I’ve never felt more adored and cherished than in his arms.

And right now? With his face inches from where I need him desperately, I know he’ll always come back to me, no matter how far he travels or how long he’s gone.

I’m his home as much as he is mine.

Garrick’s gaze softens. “I know,” he whispers, kissing my skin once more.

Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I want to cherish this with him, for as long as I can.

His rough fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling my underwear completely off, leaving me exposed before him. A shiver echoes up my spine as his hands grip the backs of my thighs.

“I’ve been as patient as I can be, baby. But now,” his fingers reach down to my ankles. “Be a good girl and put your legs over my shoulders. I need to taste you on my tongue.”

I practically choke as he helps lift me to sit on his shoulders, my pussy inches from his face.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, making my cheeks flush. His eyes sparkle as he stares at my core, no doubt seeing the glistening wetness trailing down my thighs.

“Now, ride my face.”

I obey his command as he lifts me further and sits me on his waiting mouth. His lips part, and I feel his tongue lick me in one long strip. Pleasure racks up my spine, my fingers flying to his hair to grip onto something. With his hands holding my legs and pressing me against the wall, he dives in like a man starved. Licking and sucking. Nipping and teasing. Stars fill my vision as my core begins to tighten.

“Garrick,” I moan, mg fingers pulling his curls. “Baby, I’m—“

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he keeps going with fervor. One of his hands leaves my thigh to slide up my leg to my pussy. Just as his lips tease my clit, his fingers replace them. Pressing down and squeezing, a tickling sensation begins in the pit of my stomach, growing bigger and bigger as my walls tighten around his tongue.

“I need your fingers,” I gasp. “Please.”

Garrick obliges. Two long, thick fingers slide inside me, making me pant at the pressure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem. Another squeeze, lick, and press of his fingers, and I’m already climbing higher and higher until—

“Garrick!” I cry out.

I can feel him smirk against me as I continue to shatter. Waves of ecstasy wash over me as I scream his name again and again, riding out my orgasm until I’m left feeling boneless. My head swims as Garrick gently moves my legs back to the floor.

I stare down at him, lungs still heaving breaths as I catch sight of his mouth glistening with my slick. His dimple curves just as his tongue swipes across his lips. My knees shake at the sight, but his hands are there, securing around my body as he hoists me against him.

With his hands around my torso and legs, he holds me firmly before winking down at me. He takes a step and in the next breath, we’re across the room, on the bed.

I giggle. “Using your signet to seduce me, Tavis?”

Garrick’s smirk widens as he lays me down on the mattress, his arms caressing my skin as he lets me settle into the comforter.

“I don’t need magic to seduce you,” he raises a brow. “You’re mine already.”

Reaching to touch his cheek, smoothing my thumb across his dimple, I give him a soft smile. “I’ll always be yours.”

He’s kissing me just as the words float in the air, blending with the moonlight. The dark enfolds us as he slips off his trousers and briefs, caging me with his naked body.

With one bruising kiss, I part my legs, feeling him settle between them. I glance between our bodies, a moan escaping me at the sight of his long, hard cock.

I missed this as much as I missed him.

The head of his dick lazily coats in my wetness, taunting and teasing. I writhe beneath his hulking body.

“You better get inside me right now, Garrick, or-“

He pushes into me, bottoming out in one long, heavy thrust.

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth as my back arches, eyes rolling back at the pressure. I’m so full, it’s toeing the line between pleasure and pain. It’s everything.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he hushes against my skin as I whimper.

He still doesn’t move. I need him to move.

I shift my hips, forcing some sort of friction. He stills me with a large hand, encasing most of my hip with its width.

Lips meet my ear, breath tickling my hair. His voice is deep and rough with want as he whispers, “Will you beg for it?”

I nod, gasping and writhing. The inner muscles of my core clench, tightening over and over again around his unmoving cock.

Garrick kisses the skin beneath my ear before sitting up. While still sheathed within me, he towers over me, sitting back on his haunches. He brings my knees up the bed, bending them so I’m straddling his hips. He presses himself forward, angling his dick to be even deeper inside of me.

Holy shit, this angle.

“I don’t hear you begging.”

A whimper escapes me as I claw at his hands on my hips. “Please, Garrick, please!”

He smirks, that damn dimple shining down on me. A firm, calloused hand glides up my body until he gathers both of my straining hands. He holds them above my head, grasping my wrists together in one large palm, pressing them into the sheets. My back arches into the angle, sliding him even closer, further inside of me.

“Do you trust me, baby?”

I nod over and over again, still straining against his hold. The heat rising inside of me is unbearable, the need to feel his cock pump and thrust against my walls is all I can think about.

Garrick stares at me from above, his gaze hooded as he watches me pant. He tightens his hold on my wrists as his free hand grabs the top of my knee and pulls it to the side, before doing the same to the other. I obey, making them stay in the position he wants them.

As I stretch my knees outward, my eyes widen. With my knees bent at this angle, my pussy locks around Garrick’s cock, exposing my clit to the air. All the while, he watches in fascination, completely enraptured.

With a flick of his wrist, sharp, cool air touches my clit. It startles me, making me want to clamp my legs shut on instinct.

As I try to do just that, Garrick holds firm, staring at my exposed clit. “Let me take care of you. It’s okay, I’m just….experimenting.”

He meets my eyes with a wink before twisting his hand in the air to make the breeze choppier. Almost in a vibrating motion. Warmth and pressure build slowly as the vibrating keeps going, stimulating my clit in a way I’ve never experienced.

Just as it intensifies, Garrick begins to thrust inside of me. Thank fuck. My head snaps back, a cry falling from my lips.

“There you go, baby,” he pumps faster, deeper. “You take me so well.”

Sweat builds at my temple just as his hand releases my hips, allowing me to meet him with every thrust. We moan together as pressure builds, the air he’s still bending around my clit is now flowing faster.

“Garrick,” I whine, my voice full of warning.

He nods, smiling. “I know, I’m right behind you.”

The air vibrating against my clit suddenly disappears. His fingers slip down from my caged hands, releasing them, to touch my clit, keeping me stimulated.

He thrusts, using my knees as leverage to pull me into him roughly. I grip the sheets, holding on as I feel myself cresting that wave once more.

“Come for me, love.”

I shatter with a cry, my voice straining as it echoes. My walls pulse and flutter, again and again, as his cock pounds into me. He soon follows with a roar, bending down so his lips find mine, groaning into my mouth as he fills me.

The entire time he spills inside of me, he whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again.

I’m drunk off the feeling of him when we finally both come down from our highs. Gasping for breath, Garrick falls on top of me, spent. I laugh beneath him, shoving him playfully.

“I can’t breathe!”

He groans. “Gods, I missed fucking you.”

I kiss his sweaty temple, warmth filling my chest as he gives short, simple kisses to my collarbone.

“Just that?” I tease.

“Don’t even joke.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head before rolling off of me, lying back on our bed.

He drags me with him, cradling me in the nook of his arms. His bare chest against the skin of my cheek brings so many memories of the past few years, it floods me with nostalgia.

How we met on the mat at Basgiath our first year, his mouth and eyebrow bleeding as he let me beat him into the mat. When he later brought me a bag of ice to help the bruise on my ribs, I knew I was a goner. His stupid dimple melted me as he showed me how to forget the pain by telling bad jokes and obviously flirting with me. It worked. And now, I can’t imagine not ever being his.

A sense of rightness settles within my chest. Garrick is finally home, after so long apart. He’s alive and he’s here with me.

“I’m happy you’re back,” I whisper against his skin.

I feel him kiss the top of my head as his hand strokes my arm. “You’re my home. I’ll always come back to you.”

Warm, comfortable silence settles over the room as we memorize one another’s breaths. Reveling in the feel of our heartbeats. Being here, together, is all we’ll ever need.

For the rest of the night, into forever, I’m his, and he’s mine.