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steddiewithachance · 6 months

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I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff

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kombuuuu · 1 year

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Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #rio morales #uncle aaron #aaron morales #into the spider verse

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer.

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper.

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey."

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire.

"Yeah?" he asks fondly.

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last.

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you.

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?"

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over."

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said.

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe.

"Do you like my socks?"

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?"

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too."

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed.

"Not much. Why?"

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole.

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles."

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh."

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy.

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder.

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you."

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?"

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe.

"Will you help me get to bed?"

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket.

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me."

"I'm tired," you say.

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone.

"And we'll have a hug?"

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up.

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor.

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his.

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking.

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow.

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly.

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?"

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you."

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions.

"You don't?" he asks gently.

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care.

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom."

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek.

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on.

He puts you on the end of the bed.

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around.

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages."

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs.

"Stuck," you mumble.

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go."

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?"

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?"

"I think this part will be easier."

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants.

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now.

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips.

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward.

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him.

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says.

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do.

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug."

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his.

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen.

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance.

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable.

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down.

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close.

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you."

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple.

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble.

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze.

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks.

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie."

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck.

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep.

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?"

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home.

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?"

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again.

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs.

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest.

"You were great. I missed sober you, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers.

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory.

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk."

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it.

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe."

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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amhrosina · 11 months

Text

Be My Baby

Summary: Frank takes you on a weekend trip to his cabin after you have a rough week at work. Your first stop? The enormous bathtub with enough room for soooo many activities.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k

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a/n: hello! i'm back! my personal life is still a wreck but i missed writing for frank. this is probably the most self indulgent fic i've ever written lol it is quite literally the most ooey-gooey romantic plot before the softest smut imaginable. what can i say? i'm a hoe for soft frank. enjoy & thank you to the nonnie that requested something similar to this!

warnings: softest smut imaginable, fluff to the max, 'i'm an asshole to everyone except you' trope, a teensy little bit of crybaby reader if you squint, frank would burn the world for reader, reader is sOoOoO in love with frank (who isn't??), they're both a little wrapped up in each other's world and don't give a shit about what's happening outside of them type of vibes, pet names, etc.

From what you had seen, Frank’s cabin was cozy and warm, but since your arrival half an hour ago, you’d only had the luxury of soaking in the tub while Frank took care of unloading the car. He’d insisted on doing it alone, claiming his girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything, and honestly after the week you’d had, you were temporarily glad he was as stubborn as a mule. You were sure that sentiment would fade the next time you were feeling bratty, but for now, you tried your best to relax and forget what an awful week it had been at work.

The heat of the bath water sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine, enticing a low groan from your lips. Sinking further into the water, you realized just how big the tub was. It stretched at least six feet across and was almost deep enough to stand, clearly a custom made feature of the cabin. You supposed Frank probably needs the room, being as large a man as he is. Still, it felt like you were in a luxurious hot tub, rather than a regular bathtub.

“There’s a button to turn on the jets if you want ‘em.”

Frank’s gentle voice carried across the bathroom, startling you from your relaxed state. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned, eyeing his powerful figure as he made his way toward you and sat on the edge of the tub. It was easy to get lost in the way he moved, and you tried your best to not stare at the muscles straining against the black longsleeve he was wearing.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to softly run his knuckles along the curve of your damp cheek. He was always gentle with you, but the desire to take care of you was even more present in his eyes than usual. It really had been a shitty week.

“This place is amazing.” You said in awe, turning your face away to hide your grin. His hand, already knowing what you were trying to do, softly gripped your jaw and turned it back to face him.

“You barely saw the place.” He chuckled.

“Whose fault is that?” You raised an eyebrow at him and sat up, fully exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes briefly flicked down to your nipples, hardening as the cool air touched them, before returning his gaze upwards. “Get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He nodded and stood, but began walking in the opposite direction of the bath. You furrowed your brow, watching him tug his shirt off and throw it on the counter. When he saw your expression, he grinned.

“Hang on. I brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” You called after him, but he was already moving again.

He disappeared through the doorway, generating even more confusion, before returning with an assembly of things tucked under his arms. You watched as he worked his way around the room, placing various objects here and there until finally he flicked off the lights and turned to face you again.

The room was now aglow with flickering candle light, coating Frank’s looming figure in a warm haze. He’d gone for mostly unscented, knowing how strong smells could give you headaches, but had left in a few lavender candles because he knew how much it relaxed you. He also managed to sneak an entire bottle of champagne into the car without you noticing, of which he was pouring into two flutes. You blinked back tears as he handed you your glass, unable to express how warm your chest felt at the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

“Frank.” You murmured, smiling bashfully, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“‘s what you deserve.” He shrugged, stepping out of the rest of his clothes.

He sank into the tub next to you, tugging your body against his in a swift motion. He sat with his back against the edge, allowing you to easily settle your knees on either side of his thighs, facing him in the dim room. You sat just a little taller than him at this angle - chest pressed against his warm skin, arms resting on his broad shoulders - and God, he looked divine. The drive had taken a few hours, just long enough for the stubble to return to his cheeks after this morning’s shave, giving him a rugged look that you thought was just so handsome. You were unable to resist the temptation of running your nails over it in a soft scratch, eliciting a groan from deep in Frank’s chest. The rumble reverberated through your chest as you pressed yourself fully against him, seeking more of his affection. He tugged your head down onto his shoulder and began running his fingers along the base of your neck in a soothing pattern.

“You never answered my question earlier.” He murmured, resting his jaw against your head. “You okay, sweet girl?”

You sighed, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as you mulled over your feelings. You were a sensitive soul to begin with, and your boss had been on edge all morning when he finally snapped at you for something you had no control over, which ultimately had you tearing up for the rest of the day. When you’d walked through the door crying, Frank’s eyes flashed violently between anger at your boss and sympathy for you. The sympathy had won, and now you were in a beautiful cabin in upstate New York, wrapped in his strong arms. Still, you weren’t sure how you were going to deal with your boss’ temper when you returned to work on Monday.

“I don’t know,” you finally replied, shrugging, “Can you ask me again later?”

You felt his cheeks widen into a small grin. He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t think I won’t.” He teased, calling you on your avoidant tendencies before you could even notice them yourself.

“How long have you had this place?” You wondered, nuzzling into his heated skin.

“I bought it a few months after Maria and the kids.” He said softly, almost whispering when he had to relay his wife’s name aloud. “Thought maybe I was done with the city. Change can be good, ya’ know?”

“But you came back.” You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.

“But I came back.” He parroted, nodding. “And then I met you.”

“And you stayed.” You finished for him.

“Of course I stayed. Couldn’t leave you behind, sweet girl. ‘ve been sweet on you since the day I met you.”

This was true. From the moment you’d met, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind toward you. You had no idea, of course, that this type of behavior was incredibly far away from Frank Castle’s usual attitude until you’d met Matt Murdock, who was so shocked at Frank’s subdued personality and general softness around you that Frank had to physically close Matt’s gaping jaw for him.

“But you never sold the place?” You questioned.

“I figured we might need somewhere to run away to every once in a while. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about it before today? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely worried that he might’ve upset you.

“How could I be mad when I’m sitting in this enormous tub, surrounded by candles and champagne, pressed up against the man of my dreams?”

He smiled then, and you could tell it was a genuine smile because of the way his cheeks dimpled at the corner of his laugh lines. It was an award winning smile, you thought. You gently set the empty champagne glasses on the edge of the tub before cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“My Frankie,” you mumbled, running your thumbs across his cheekbones, “What would I do without you?”

You really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but every time you looked at him, you felt yourself being pulled closer and closer to him. His compassion and kindness toward you, even after everything he’d been through, was something you couldn’t avoid leaning into. All your life you’d been taking care of others, and finally, here was someone begging to take care of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? ’m here to stay.” He mumbled, bringing the pads of your fingertips to his lips for individual, soft kisses. “I love you, and ‘m gonna take care of you forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as an overwhelming rush of emotion passed over you. In your arms was a man that should’ve been bitter and angry at the world around him. He had earned the right to become spiteful and hardened, and no one could fault him for that. And yet - and yet - in your arms was a man that loved you with his entire being. Who understood you at your core, saw the dark parts of you, and loved those parts even more. Who was soft for no one but you. Who you loved, too.

A tear slid down your cheek as you kissed him, long and slow and sensual because you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He smiled into the kiss, cradling your head with his beautiful, calloused hands. It wasn’t enough. You needed his gentle touch everywhere. Pressing yourself against him, you felt yourself sliding along his achingly hard cock, raising the already warm temperature in the room to searing. Heat pulsed between your legs, begging to be touched.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before following the curve of your jawline to your neck, “My pretty, sensitive girl.”

The praise made your head swim. You rocked your hips again, sliding along his length until you were hovering directly over him, waiting for the go ahead to sink down. He grunted, pressing open mouthed kisses up your throat before coaxing your hips lower and lower. You gasped when he finally pushed into you, and Frank took the opportunity to lick the inside of your gaping mouth as he did so. You shuttered against him, wanting everything he had to offer and more.

“P-please, Frankie.” You murmured, arching your back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He breathed, wrapping one of his enormous hands around the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him as you rode him. His other arm was wrapped around your torso, tugging your hips forward and back to stimulate your clit against the base of his cock. It was such an erotic way to be held that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He leaned his head against your forehead and kissed the tears that made their way down your flushed skin. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I l-love you.” You purred, stuttering as he made his way down your body, kissing everywhere he could reach. When he got to your pebbled nipples, you sucked in a sharp breath. He knew exactly how to get you off, and he was staring right at them.

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to each of your nipples, eliciting a pornographic moan from deep in your chest.

He continued to push and pull your hips in a steady rhythm, grinding your clit against his pelvis as you bounced up and down his length. Slowly, in a teasing manner that had a new wave of fresh, needy tears streaming down your cheeks, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive nub. You whined with impatience as he pulled away, only to offer the same kitten lick to your other breast. You knew he would take care of you like he always did, but his teasing was making your entire body tremble with anticipation.

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing the valley between your breasts, “‘t’s okay, baby. Be patient. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a mewl. You felt the hand Frank had been using to hold your head steady loosen its grip, and suddenly, he was softly wiping the tears away from under your eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re doing so good for me, bunny.” He murmured, and you very nearly came at the pet name he loved to praise you with. “‘m gonna make you feel real good, okay?”

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “Need you.”

That was all it took for Frank to finally snap. In one swift motion, he wrapped his lips around your breast and began to run his tongue across your sensitive nipple. His hand traveled from cradling your cheek to rubbing small, sloppy circles around your pulsing clit. You keened, overcome with so much pleasure that you felt your entire body trembling against Frank’s.

The bathroom was big enough for your soft moans to echo, and other than the sloshing of the bath water, that was the sound Frank heard as you came apart on top of him. Your head was spinning as the heat in your gut finally found its release, uncoiling in waves of overwhelming pleasure that sent you reeling.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “Just like that, pretty girl. You’re so good for me, baby.”

His fingers hadn’t stopped circling your clit. You were quickly growing overstimulated and conflicted, wanting nothing more than to keep riding him while also needing to get away from his dexterous and sinful fingers. He watched you for a moment, in awe - the way your lips parted every time a moan slipped out of your mouth, the heaving of your chest as your heart rate tried and failed to return to normal, the intense trembling of your limbs every time he circled your clit. He wasn’t worthy. He knew that. He didn’t care. He’d take care of you for as long as you’d let him, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

“F-Frankie,” you stuttered in between heaving breaths, “I can’t- I’m- It’s sensitive.”

“Shh, sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and up your neck, “Can you give me one more, bunny? Be good and give me one more.”

You shuttered against him, resting your forehead against his and breathing out a sultry whine. He continued his onslaught of kisses along your jawline, following the upward curve of your chin until his lips were on yours again. His agile tongue swept into your mouth mid-moan, sending heat into your already molten core.

“Wanna feel you come around me again, baby.” He groaned and tightened his hold around your torso, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing your mouth in his again.

He had brought you to the brink again already. You squeezed around him, earning a rare groan from Frank. The usually stoic and quiet man let out another sinful moan when you arched your back and squeezed again. He was as close as you were to the edge, and God, the tension was palpable.

Finally, in a moment of pure bliss, he nipped at your bottom lip and let out a soft, barely there whimper, which sent you careening off the edge and into oblivion. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you came, but your head had been sent straight to a euphoric haze. Your heart thundered in your chest as Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight against his chest, coming inside your sensitive, throbbing pussy.

You’d both worked yourselves into a haze, high off each other’s touch. The comedown was gentle and warm - soft caresses of each other’s skin, chaste kisses pressed to collarbones and fingertips, thundering heartbeats slowing in unison. The bath water was surprisingly still warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into Frank’s chest with languorous, droopy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, running his fingers up the length of your spine.

You nodded into his chest, sighing. “I’m perfect.”

“‘m glad.” He responded, kissing your forehead lightly. “‘m sorry you had such a rough week.”

“I’m not.” You giggled, glancing around at the luxurious bathtub you were in. “This place is like a dream.”

He held you tighter against him, resting his chin on your head before responding.

“You don’t know the half of it, pretty girl.”

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freedomfireflies · 7 months

Text

Uppercut*

Summary: The fourth part to Knockout*

The one where Harry is fighting everyone. Even you.

Word Count: 9.1k (I mean at this point it's just tradition)

Content Warning: 18+, angst, smut, exhibitionism

The halls of the subway station are quiet. Empty. A light flickers overhead, casting odd shadows across the concrete floor that lead you toward him.

The hooded figure sits on a lone bench, face downcast toward the ground. His leg is bouncing anxiously, a nervous habit you’d recognize anywhere. His fingers are curled around the seat below, as if holding himself back. Keeping himself still.

And then, he looks up.

Those soft green eyes find yours, and suddenly, everything is okay. Your limbs no longer ache from the strenuous shift at the diner, your heart no longer feels weary. You feel energized and alive, and you’ve never been happier to see his face.

Harry smiles when he recognizes you, instantly leaping up as you approach, and pulling you into his arms.

He hugs you. Pulls you directly into his chest and keeps you there as you laugh and whisper your hello.

“Hi,” he whispers back, lips nestling into the crown of your head. He releases a deep sigh. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.” You cling to his sweatshirt and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Indulging in the scent of him. The warmth. Stability. “Are you all right?”

“Better now. Are you?”

“Mhm.” You nod but refuse to let him go. “Was a little surprised to get your note, though.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs before finally pulling away. Allowing himself a good look at your face that makes his dimple pop free. “Figured it was the safest way. Don’t wanna risk somebody seeing us out there. And I thought maybe this could be our thing.”

“Our thing?”

He chuckles to himself and brings his palm to your cheek. Cradling it gently while running his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. “Yeah. Meeting up in the dark subway in the early morning hours. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Forbidden love and all that.”

Love. There’s that word again, and it makes your head spin. Dizzy in the best and worst way possible.

“How romantic of you,” you tease instead, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “All right. This can be our thing.”

“Good.” He dips down and kisses you now. Slow and hard, exactly the way you like it. Keeping you against his lips for far longer than he should, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Might steal you away every night.”

With a soft grin of your own, you kiss him back. “You better.”

After allowing you enough time to catch your breath, he leads you back over to his bench. Curling up beside you while simultaneously tucking you into his side. Hiding you away from the rest of the world, and the few stragglers that are entering and exiting the subway.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your temple as he speaks.

You nod, keeping yourself snug under his arm. “Mhm. Wasn’t as busy as it usually is.”

“Yeah? You make anything good?”

“Snickerdoodle cookies.”

He gasps, rather dramatically, and it makes you laugh. “Cherry, you know those are my favorite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really, really.” He kisses your cheek almost absentmindedly before continuing. “Especially the way you make ‘em. Told you that, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. Don’t know if I was really listening, though.”

“No? You don’t listen when I talk, sweet girl?”

You smirk. “Sometimes I get a little distracted.”

“With what, baby?”

“Your…mouth,” you admit somewhat sheepishly. “Sometimes I just like to watch your lips move. And then I forget to listen to what’s coming out of them.”

He laughs now, and the sound is infectious. Bouncing around the concrete walls until you giggle. “Is that right?”

“It’s not my fault,” you pout playfully, reaching up to brush your thumb along the pretty, pink fibers at your disposal. They’re healing nicely from the last fight, and you feel relieved. “You have such a pretty face.”

He hums against your finger before pressing into it, leaving a soft kiss. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“So do you,” he whispers, dropping his voice into something soft and seductive. “See your face in mind every time I close my eyes.”

And it shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does, but you find yourself biting back a sigh as you scoot impossibly closer. “You’re silly.”

“Am I?” Another kiss to your thumb before he moves down your hand and toward your wrist. Leaving a trail of them in his wake. “What if m’being serious?”

Your breath catches and you watch his mouth move closer and closer. “Then you’re seriously silly.”

His lips twitch up. “If I am, it’s because that’s what you make me.” Another collection of gentle kisses along the inside of your arm. “Think about you every hour…of every goddamn day.”

You feel lost on him. Drowning in his aurora, and this hypnotic haze he’s lured you into. Unaffected by the people around you, or the way this might look.

All you really notice…is him.

“And believe me, sweet girl,” he continues in a huskier murmur, “the things I think about are anything but silly.”

Your pulse skips from somewhere beneath your chest while a whimper bleeds from your throat. You brace yourself against his stronger frame as his kisses reach the sleeve of your uniform, just beneath your shoulder.

He only stops once to meet your eye. “D’you wanna know what I think about, baby?”

Your first instinct is to nod, but you catch yourself just in time. Forcing yourself to finally say the one thing you’ve been meaning to all evening. “I wanna know what you’re gonna do about Jesse.”

He leans back, and the devious expression falls away.

“I don’t want him to hurt you, Harry,” you rush to explain, allowing him to drop your arm only so you can take hold of his. “I’m worried about you.”

“Please,” he snorts. “Jesse can’t fucking hurt me. Couldn’t hurt me even when he was in the fucking ring with me.”

Your eyebrow cocks up. “…what?”

A nonchalant shrug, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s said. Or he doesn’t care. “Few years ago, back when he wasn’t such a little shit. He was one of the fighters."

And suddenly…it hits you. Slaps you across the face and leaves a permanent palm print. “How many years ago?”

He seems to realize around the same time you do, eyes softening as he rolls his shoulders back. “Three or four, I think.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Feel your hands grow shaky and your heart begin to wrench. “He was…he was fighting. When he was with me.”

Not exactly a question. Rather a conclusive statement you both stumble onto as the picture becomes clearer.

There were a lot of things about Jesse you never learned. His anger always being his biggest question mark.

You saw the subtle scars that were occasionally smeared along his knuckles or painted across his back. But his excuse was always a vague, mumbled explanation of, “Oh, just this buddy of mine at the gym. We like to box sometimes. I’m fine.”

And that was that.

You figured what he did at the gym was his own business. And you had no reason to believe it was anything more than a few rounds with a friend. Had no reason to believe it was something bigger. That he was lying to you.

And perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t lying. He was boxing, just not at the local gym. And certainly not for free.

“Cherry,” Harry calls to you now, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Tugging your hands onto his lap to recapture your attention. “Baby—”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, a bit airier than you mean to before clearing your throat. “I’m fine. I always knew he was doing something, I just…this makes sense.”

He’s unconvinced, frowning to himself before squeezing your palms. “You might not have known him very well, but I do. Okay, I know this side of him, and I know that he’s nothing more than a bunch of empty threats and a checkbook. And I’m not gonna let him hurt me. Or you. Never you.”

And even though your stomach is turning, you believe him. “I know. But what if…what if he tries to do something? To you, during your fights? What if…what if he sends somebody after you?”

To your surprise, he smirks. “Come on, do you really think I’m scared of some hitman? I know you haven’t seen very many of my fights, but believe me, baby, I can handle it.”

You, however, don't smile. “Harry, I’m serious.”

“I thought I was serious.”

“Harry.” You pout again and tug on his hands. “You didn’t see how angry he was—”

“I did,” he argues, the smug grin slipping away. “I know exactly how fucking mad he was, and all because I lost him a couple of fights. And I don’t give a shit because he’s nothing but a fucking rat.”

“Yeah. But he’s a rat that’s threatening to hurt you.”

The darkened expression returns, and his frown makes you want to cry. He’s far too beautiful to look so anguished. “I don’t care. I told you, he can’t hurt me—”

“But he can hurt me,” you interrupt, and his jaw snaps shut. “By hurting you, he hurts me. I mean, just the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you, it just…it…God, it made my fucking skin crawl, Harry.”

The crasser language that slips from your tongue seems to entertain him and disappoint him all in the same moment.

“Okay,” he mumbles in a lower volume, almost as though hoping to talk you down. “Okay, I know—”

“No, you don’t know,” you argue. “You…you don’t want him to hurt me, and yet he is. And he doesn’t have to, okay? You just have to win, and he doesn’t care. As long as you win.”

The frown seems to get deeper. “Cherry…it’s not just about winning. He’s put a fucking price on my head and expects me to pay it. And I told you, I’m tired of playing his fucking games.”

You squeeze his hands a bit harder, desperate to understand. “Is that why you threw the fights?” you ask gently. “To piss him off?”

Another shrug. Angrier. “Not exactly. I just figured he’d drop me if I wasn’t doing the one thing he wanted me to.”

Your eyes flick between his. “But it’s not that easy.”

“No,” he agrees. “Because he’s a fucking weasel that thinks he can use you to get what he wants from me. And I won’t let him.”

Your heart drops into your toes as the two of you grow quiet. Undeterred by the sounds of the subway entering and exiting the station, the screeching lines and opening doors. You’re immersed in your own little bubble here with him, unable to hear anything past the pounding in your ears.

“So what do we do?” you dare to ask.

He sighs again before bringing your entangled hands to his mouth. Kissing your fingers as he thinks. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it looks like he wants to say more…but he stops.

So, you finish for him. “Let’s leave.”

“What?”

You nod quicky and glance toward the tracks. “Let’s leave. Let’s just get on the train and go somewhere. Start a new life. No more Jesse, no more fights, no more threats. We can just leave.”

A hint of a smile is all you’re afforded before he chuckles and kisses your hands once more. “And I thought I was the silly one.”

“No, I mean it,” you insist. “We could, we could leave, we could start over. We could be happy. Just you and me. And a bunch of pies.”

There’s a gentle beat before his brows begin to furrow. “Cherry,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart sink.

You knew it was a long shot. Knew there was really no logic behind the suggestion, only the need to take action. And for just a moment, you liked the picture you were painting. Of you and him in a sweet little house somewhere out in the country. Working your typical 9 to 5 jobs before coming home to make dinner together.

Perhaps it's a little old fashioned and a bit mundane, but it looks so beautiful compared to what you have now. And you imagine any life would be exciting with him at the center of it.

“I know,” you finally whisper, allowing your shoulders to slump. “But…I had to try.”

His amused grin returns before he tugs you closer in order to kiss you. And it’s quick and playful and everything you’ve ever needed. An almost perfect fix for this ache in your chest.

“And I love that,” he tells you, and the second use of the forbidden word leaves you breathless. Even more so than the kisses. “But m’gonna be okay, sweet girl. I won’t let him hurt us.”

And you want to believe him. Want to be sure that Jesse is nothing more than a footnote in this new chapter you’ve opened together.

But something doesn’t feel right.

Because there’s this look in his eye. The same look you saw that night in the ring. Animalistic and unrelenting. Like he could split somebody in half and never think twice about it.

“And how are you gonna do that?” you whisper, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hoodie on his chest. “Huh? Are you just gonna beat him up until he changes his mind?”

“Maybe.” He’s smiling, but there’s something serious in the way he speaks, and your stomach wrenches. “What? He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him.”

“Harry—”

“Cherry.” He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. “Don’t have to worry, okay? I’ll be all right.”

You’re ready to argue with him, another excuse already locked and loaded, but before you can fire it, he brings his hand to your temple. Sweeping his thumb along your forehead with a much softer expression.

“You know, you get the cutest little wrinkle when you frown,” he tells you, brushing his finger down the space between your eyebrows. “Right…here.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from giggling. “Oh, do I?”

“Mhm.” He smooths his touch along your skin before moving to your jaw. Tracing the line almost reverently. “There’s a lot of things about you that are cute.”

“Is that right?”

He nods once before he’s dropping both hands to your hips in order to lead you over to his lap. Placing your knees on either side of his waist and holding you there while you squeal.

And he doesn’t seem to care about anything else but you. Not the people walking by or the chilly gust of wind that dances through the station. He gazes up at you and brushes a bit of hair behind your ear. Taking in the details of your face as if memorizing every inch of you.

“I think you’re beautiful, Cher,” he tells you, and not for the first time. “And I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle, finding stability in more ways than one. “Well, I think you’re being silly again.”

“Yeah?” He smirks as you dip down to brush your nose with his. “Then maybe I need to prove to you just how much I mean it.”

One of his large hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing you just over your uniform. And you laugh as you playfully swat at his chest, although you can’t deny there’s a part of you desperately searching for more.

Ever since the other night, you’ve felt rather insatiable. Distracted by the memory of him in your hand – of the weight and the feel. You see his body when you close your eyes, see the tattoos, and ridges, and lines. The curve of his spine and his hips and his thighs.

And you’re reminded again of exactly how thrilling it was when you feel him beneath you. A gentle, subtle graze of something hard as you’re rocked over his lap. And it makes your breath catch.

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

His lashes flutter closed before he ghosts his lips along the edge of your cheek. “What, baby?”

Another pull to your hips makes you sigh, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “This isn’t fair.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You stumble over a whine before bracing yourself against his chest. “Because we can’t. Not here.”

“Not here?” he repeats, almost teasingly. “Why not here? Don’t want them to watch, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the strength to shake your head.

“Don’t want them to watch you grind yourself against my lap, like my desperate little bunny?” He grins and it’s so very devious. “Don’t want them to see just how needy you really get for me?”

And maybe…there’s a small part of you that does.

Common sense evades you now as you pant, “I do. I do, Harry, please.”

He’s amused by this. At your determination to take whatever he'll give. Soft, gentle hands slipping their way beneath the hem of your uniform, stroking and groping as though playing with you. Taunting you with the idea of more only to take it away with a kiss.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you now, eyes flicking to yours.

It’s the easiest answer you’ve given all night. “Yes. Yes, I do. Always.”

He smiles, filled with relief before he’s nodding his chin at you. “Okay, baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”

A bit confused, you rearrange yourself over his lap. Settling down with your back against his chest while his hands sneak around your waist to keep you still.

Those beautiful fingers land on your thighs, just above the hem of your dress. They toy with the fabric almost absentmindedly and you whimper beneath a strained breath as you wait.

“Shh,” he coos, resting his lips along the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you. Told you I’ll always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod as your head falls back onto his shoulder. Unable to hold itself up any longer while he does this to you.

Your attention lands on the train just a few hundred feet in front of you as it slowly begins to roll down the tracks before taking off. A gust of wind follows, sweeping across your cheek, and sending a chill down your spine.

Your small shiver makes him smirk. “Relax, Cherry. You’re all right.”

There are only three other people in the station, all scattered about on opposite ends, checking their phones, and reading their newspapers. None of them close enough to see what he’s really doing to you, and you imagine even if they could, they wouldn’t care.

Yet the idea that any one of them could look up and glance over is thrilling. Worsening the ache between your thighs as Harry’s thumb finally slips beneath the hem.

“Breathe,” he instructs gently, instructing you to take a deep breath which you shakily do. “If you want me to stop, you tell me, yes?”

You bite back a whine. “I don’t want you to stop. Promise.”

“But if you do,” he insists, slowing the stroking of his hand until you nearly wilt, “you tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you agree quickly. “Yes, I understand, I promise.”

Satisfied, he continues. Slipping his touch further up your legs while making sure the edge of your dress doesn’t move. Keeping you covered while he does this, offering you just an ounce of privacy. And you’re so grateful for him.

He crawls higher and higher until he finds the soft lace of your underwear. Tracing the band almost lazily, running up and down the curve of your thigh without ever giving in.

“Harry,” you sigh, reaching for his wrist to compel him. “Harry, please—”

“Shh,” he hushes again, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Said I’ve got you, and I do. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise. Just wanna play with you first. Wanna feel you.”

You’re tempted to argue that he’s nowhere close to actually feeling you yet, but you realize then that he means more than that. He wants to take in every inch of your skin at his disposal. Wants to feel the softness of your hip, the goosebumps along your thighs. Wants to learn you, study you, memorize you. Simply exist with you in his arms.

You unwind in his embrace, allowing him to indulge in you exactly the way he wants. But the coil in your stomach grows tighter at the tender implication, making your desperation for him that much stronger.

Finally – finally – he moves closer. Brushing the tips of his fingers down the front of you, just over your covered clit and down.

He does it again. Over and over, albeit idly, while effectively worsening your need, making you whimper.

He only grins. “S’that bad, baby, huh?”

And you don’t need to answer for him to know that it is. He can feel it. Can feel exactly how anxious you are to be touched as he continues his soft strokes.

Then…he hooks his finger around the band and pulls.

The brisk morning air instantly finds the inside of your warm thighs, and you gasp. Squirming over his lap until he has to use one hand to hold you still. Shushing you once again while squeezing the top of your leg soothingly.

“I know,” he murmurs, allowing you no more than a few seconds to adjust before brushing his thumb down your pussy. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that, sweet girl?”

You nod, thankful that your outburst didn’t draw too much attention from the others in the station. But it seems that was only the start as Harry continues his playful flicks and pulls. Attempting to unravel you as quickly as possible, despite your muffled whimpers for mercy.

He starts with your clit. Circling it a few times with his large digits until he can really wind you up. Slow touches that turn fast, his lips trailing from your cheek and to your neck.

He kisses you as he does this. Nips at your skin, tugs it between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue. Marking you – claiming you. In more ways than one.

“Oh, Cherry,” he hums after a moment, and your insides wrench. “You’re all wet, baby. S’it that bad? S’it hurt that bad?”

You’d like to nod, but you don’t have the capacity. Only enough strength to squeeze his wrist and whisper, “Harry—”

“Mm. I know. Gonna let me have some?”

You finally convince your head to move up and down while he chuckles and brings his other hand into play. One, large digit slipping between your folds and down to where your arousal has collected while the others continue stroking your clit.

And it’s almost too much. This screaming in your head for more. To be filled and fixed by the only man who can help you.

And it’s not his cock, but his finger does feel beautiful. Pushing in to your tightness while your walls are quick to draw him in.

It’s ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Happening right in the middle of this dimly lit subway station and the people who might see.

And yet…you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more alive and in control of your own experience. Even if it’s slightly dangerous and perhaps not something you previously would have considered. With Harry it feels…different. Destined. Because you know he means it when he says he’ll take care of you. After all, he always does.

When he reaches his knuckle, you keen, releasing a strangled groan that’s much too loud.

He takes the hand on your clit away in order to smack it against your mouth. Keeping you quiet until you finish.

“Baby,” he warns, but it’s sympathetic, “gotta try for me, okay? Gotta try to stay quiet.”

You nod again as you swallow the rest of your noises. But he keeps his palm against your lips, wet fingertips stroking your cheek. Painting you with your own arousal.

He begins to pump you slowly. Retracting almost all the way only to ease back in. It’s a steady pace he sets, but it’s addictive. Keeping you on the brink without ever actually offering you what you really need. Never scratching that itch.

“Harry,” you try, the sound of his name muffled by his hand.

But he understands, nevertheless, kissing just below your ear before finally lowering his arm. “What? What do you need?”

More, more, more. One, singular word that’s ringing between your ears, loud and insistent. “Please…”

He hums. “Please,” he repeats. “Please…what?”

“Need…need—”

“Need? What do you need? Need me?”

“Yes,” you nearly gasp. “Yes, Harry, please. Hurts…”

And it does hurt. You’ve never felt an emptiness like this. Never felt so hollow and depraved. But he’s the only one who can fix it, and your eyelids grow heavy as you push yourself further back into his chest.

The tip of a second finger begins to tease your opening before he’s pushing both in. And it’s almost too easy, the sound of your arousal being pulled in and out rather loud. And so very lewd. Too much eroticism for you to handle, and it feels as though your limbs have turned to jelly as you slump in his hold.

“Okay, baby,” he whispers, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Just give me one. Just need to feel you around my fingers one time.”

And it’s an easy instruction. You can already feel the seams of your sanity coming loose as he returns to your clit and pinches it between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure from both of his hands is almost cruel, and it makes your heart wrench. Because it’s so close, you can taste it. Can swallow it whole, and you’ve never felt so insatiable. The urge to just have him rather prevalent and undeniable. You imagine if you could, you’d wrap yourself around him and never let go.

And you don’t think he’d really mind.

Your hips buck up the moment he curls his touch, a soft sigh fighting its way between your parted lips.

And you’re so enamored by him. So endlessly addicted to the man doing this to you, and you can feel the way your orgasm barrels closer. The way he teases you with the thought of release, dangling it directly in front of you.

“There you go,” he breathes, and you can feel him against your back. The groan that sits in his chest as he works you closer. “So good, yeah? Love the way you squeeze me.”

As if at the mention, you feel yourself clench around his large digits. Pussy fluttering until he’s dropping his mouth to your shoulder in order to stifle his own sounds.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles before repeating the action again. “God, you’re so tight, sweet girl. I’d fucking ruin you, wouldn’t I?”

You nod fervently, the image of his cock painting itself behind your eyelids. The length, the girth, the way it looks between his thighs. He would, he’d ruin you. In the best possible way. And you’d thank him for it.

You can feel him beneath you, just below your ass. And he’s glorious. Cursing to himself whenever you squirm over his cock, taunting him about the same way he’s taunting you.

It’s clear he’s losing the battle for control. Whispers of, “Oh, my sweet girl. My fucking girl. Aren’t you? Never knew how good he had it, did he?”

He doesn’t need to say Jesse’s name for you to know exactly who he’s referring to, and your stomach lands in your throat.

You don’t want to imagine him when you’re with Harry. And you don’t think Harry does, either. But he grits the insinuation out through clenched teeth before settling into a faster rhythm.

“Could fucking kill him,” Harry seethes. “Could pull his heart out of his goddamn chest just for fucking looking at you.”

He presses hard into your clit until you’re forced to bite your tongue. Drinking down your whimpers and cries as one of the men across the station folds his paper and begins to stand.

You pray he doesn’t look over, pulse thumping wildly against your ribcage. And yet, at the same time, you want him to know. Want them all to know what your stranger is doing to you. To watch you fall apart by his hand until you’re nothing but a pile of pants and sighs.

“For touching you,” he continues in your ear, a disdained hiss that makes your eyes roll back. “For putting his fucking hands on what’s mine.”

You squeeze his wrist so hard, you’re sure you’ll leave a bruise. But it doesn’t seem to matter because he goes faster. Harder. Plunging his fingers in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting pace. Needing you to cum more than he’s ever needed anything else.

“Come on,” he urges, kissing down your neck with a faint grumble. “God, come on, Cherry. Come for me. Let me feel you, just one more time.”

You’re almost there. Can feel the beginnings of your orgasm brightening the edges of your vision. You need far more than he’s giving you and yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt so satisfied.

“Show me how good you are,” he murmurs. “Show me how good you’re gonna be for me, taking my cock. All laid out in my bed. Tears down your pretty, little face.”

And you can see it so clearly. Sweaty bodies writhing together, tangled in the sheets. The way he holds you to the mattress, using his weight to keep you good, keep you open. His hard thrusts, his strong thighs. His hands pinning yours just above your head, his hips slamming into yours.

You clamp down around his fingers once more and he’s mesmerized. Sliding all the way to the knuckle and holding them there to feel every flutter of your pussy around him.

“Shit, that’s it.” His arm flexes from beside you, and you wish he wasn’t wearing that goddamn hoodie so you could see every pull of his muscles. “Know you’re close. Gonna get you there, baby, I swear.”

And you know he will. He almost has, and maybe there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want this to end. Wants to keep feeling this indescribable rush as he sits with you until the sun comes up.

With all the frantic fumbling, the hem of your dress has slowly begun to ride up. Revealing the disappearance of his hands and the tops of your thighs until there’s no question about what’s really happening underneath.

And maybe you should readjust yourself, but you don’t. Can’t. You’re almost there and all clarity seems to fly right out the window as you decide that you don’t care. Onlookers be damned. If they see, they see.

This is what gets you there. This realization that people can watch him touch you. Even if nobody is looking right at this moment, they could. And it’s wrong, and it’s strange, and it’s so not like you.

Yet you’ve never felt more at ease.

The moment it takes hold of you, he zeroes in. Fucking his fingers into your cunt rather mercilessly while the other hand returns to your mouth. Already anticipating your noises.

You moan against his palm while he tugs you impossibly closer to his chest. Attempting to shield you from everybody else as you experience the come down.

“Shh,” he repeats for a third time, the soothing tone a stark contrast to the unrelenting movement of his fingers. “Don’t want them to hear you, sweet girl. Wanna keep you to myself. Cause your noises are mine, yeah, Cherry? They belong to me?”

Posed as a question, but you both know it’s not. You’ve never belonged to anybody the way you belong to him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, you allow yourself to whimper against his hand through every second of it. Riding out his thrusts until your stomach nearly caves in. Until you have no further strength to hold yourself upright or keep yourself composed.

“There you go,” he coos. “Just like that. Want it all, baby. Every fucking drop.”

You give it to him. Give him everything you have, everything he asks for. And the soft grunts in your ear nearly bring you to the edge for a second time, but he’s pulling away just before you can find out.

Your exhale is strained when he finally lowers his arm, but he remedies this by wrapping it around your middle and straightening the hem of your uniform.

“How’s that, hm?” He tucks his chin just over your shoulder. “Feel better? Y’gave me a lot tonight, sweet girl. M’so proud of you. You were so good for me.”

You offer a lazy smile at his tender praise.

Soft strokes are circled around your thigh as you both sit in the new silence. Indulging in these few moments you have left.

And just the idea of having to leave him nearly crushes you.

He’s rather addicting, you realize. This man – this stranger – that comes to your diner and sits in your booth asking for pies. Even without knowing much about who he is, you’re so endlessly drawn to him. Hypnotized by his charm and his face and his past. The scars that litteried his hands and body.

And now, after everything else…he’s the only one you truly feel safe with. Comfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s nothing but question marks, he’s…Harry. He’s your Harry. And you don’t ever want that to change.

You watch his fingers brush at your skin, and your heart feels so full. It’s never felt like this with anybody else. Not during the sex, not during the tender moments. You thought you felt that way with Jesse, but it pales in comparison to how you feel now.

However, the fleeting memory of Jesse sours your smile as you’re forced to remember the reality of this delicate moment.

Even when Harry was touching you, he was so angry. He is so angry. You know he’ll never be able to tame that demon that lives within his heart, but you aren’t sure there’s enough room for both.

You want to believe him when he says he’ll figure it out. But it’s becoming much too clear that he believes the only way to fix it…is to hurt Jesse.

And therefore get himself hurt in the process.

There’s so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that he clearly doesn’t want you to, and you’re devastated. You feel helpless. Because you want to protect him the same way he wants to protect you. You want to keep him from making these rash decisions just because he thinks they’ll protect you.

Because you don’t want to have to lose him or let him go. You want to take him away from all of this and make him happy. Find a way to keep him safe.

You want to find another way.

“Harry?” you venture timidly.

He hums.

“Why did you tell me not to tell Owen where I was going?”

There’s a brief beat before he sighs rather heavily and tightens his hold on you. “When I drove by the diner earlier, I saw Jesse.”

Your eyes widen.

“He was talking to Owen, and my guess is that he was looking for you.” Another pause. “Does Owen know where you live?”

You glance down at his fingers before tangling them with yours. Playing with them as though to prolong your answer. “…yes.”

He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”

The heavy sound makes your chest ache, and you quickly sit up in order to glance back and see him. “Jesse would never do that.”

“You don’t know that,” he nearly scoffs. “He’s a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way, and if he thinks you’re still seeing me—”

“Well, he won’t,” you retort. “He won’t know. We’ll meet down here, and we’ll figure out what to do. And it’ll be okay.”

His eyes flick between yours, and even in the soft light, that gentle green is breathtaking. “I think you have more faith in him than you should.”

Your stomach sinks.

“And I think you have the wrong faith in me, too,” he whispers, reaching out to cup your chin. “M’not sure I’m who you think I am.”

The implication makes you frown. “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re strong. You take care of me, you protect me. I know you, Har.”

His expression falls ever-so-slightly. “Not as much as I should—”

“Harry—”

“You want to save him, and I want to fucking kill him,” he says. “You think he’s worth saving. You think I’m worth saving, and I’m not. We’re not—”

“Stop,” you nearly gasp, surging forward to take his cheeks between your palms. “You are always worth saving. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to keep you?”

He nuzzles his face into your palm before releasing a deep breath. “Because you’re good. You’re so good, Cherry. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”

You tighten your hold. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and I deserve you. Okay, we’ll figure this out. We’re fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”

You know he wants to argue. Has about a hundred excuses and arguments ready for use, but he bites his tongue. Allowing you to have this victory as you dip down and kiss him.

“I just want to keep you safe,” he says, and you understand more than he’ll ever know.

“But I am safe,” you argue, reaching down to tug his hoodie pleadingly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m safe.”

His sigh is gentle as he squeezes your chin. “I know. Just wanna figure some things out first, yeah? Make sure I can take care of you.”

You say nothing as his thumb sweeps across your parted lips, but you’re gutted. Touched by the thought, yet empty without him.

This is how you leave each other. After Harry helps you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady. And it’s quiet as you say your goodbyes. As he holds you against his heart until he has to physically take himself away. Leaving you with a lingering kiss that you feel all the way down in your toes.

“Tomorrow?” he makes you promise before you can slip away.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach very far. “Tomorrow,” you agree. “Right here.”

“Right here. Find me.”

“Always.”

And with that…he drops your hand and walks away.

However, the image of him follows you all the way home. The way his features fell, the way his voice cracked. The anguish so prevalent in his insistence, and the unmistakable rage behind his eyes.

He’s unrelenting. He doesn’t see a way out that keeps him safe. He’d rather risk his life in order to protect yours. And you don’t want to understand it, but you do. Because a part of you wants to do the same for him.

Jesse made his instructions clear. And it should be easy. It should be so easy for Harry to do the one thing he knows he can. To win.

But he won’t. He won’t win as long as Jesse’s his sponsor. And if he won’t win…

You know he can. Saw it happen just the other night. The way he threw his opponent onto the mat and held him down until he could hardly breathe. He’d been losing – he’d been throwing the fight – until he saw you. And once he saw you…the fight was over.

This is what Jesse wanted, and you know it. He wants you to be the reason Harry changes his mind, but it’s clear now that you’re the reason he won’t.

He’ll never change his mind as long as he’s convinced he’s protecting you. As long as he’s sure that his pain is proper payment for your comfort.

And it ruins you. It ruins you this idea that you can’t help him. That he’ll allow himself to be beaten to the brink of death in order to keep you safe. To keep you untouched and unscathed.

Jesse’s threat is real. Frighteningly real, and there’s this ache in your stomach that can’t be mended with kisses and kind words. You can’t convince him, you can’t change his mind, and you can’t find another way.

There’s only one.

It taunts you as you go about your night. It wakes you the next morning. Follows you all the way to work.

Perhaps the only way to solve the problem is to take yourself out of the equation. To force Harry’s hand exactly the way Jesse wants. To show him that it’s okay to save himself. That he doesn’t have to put you first.

But in order to truly take yourself out…you have to take yourself from him. And the thought of removing yourself from his life nearly wrecks you. It’s violent and unthinkable, causing a hitch in your breath before you’ve even decided.

You can’t imagine a world without him in it. You don’t want to. You’re so irrevocably happy with him, and you imagine he feels the same for you.

But if you ever lost him…if your selfishness took him from you, you don’t know what you’d do. And it’s exactly the way he feels for you, but you realize then that you’d rather push him away than lose him forever.

You’d rather have his life than his love.

Your shift goes by far too fast, and when you finally clock out and head for the subway station, your insides are in knots.

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only exit you see. Right alongside the memories of each of Harry’s bruises and cuts. Reminding you of how much worse it could really get.

And when you step up to the subway and see his shadow just across the way…the decision finds you.

A grin splits his face as he strides toward you, instantly wrapping you in his arms and pulling you back into his chest. Exactly the way he left you the night before.

“Hi,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair as though he hasn’t been able to breathe without you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, throat already growing dry. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be, sweet girl.” He leans back in order to study you, fingers stroking across your cheek rather affectionately. “Owen didn’t give you trouble, did he?”

“No. No, it wasn’t him—”

“Jesse?” The sound of his name is sharp, and it makes your eyelashes flutter.

“No.” Your voice has gone quiet. Far too quiet, and his brows pinch together. “No, I just…I have something I have to do. And I’m not sure that I can.”

He steps closer. “Then let me help, yeah? We can do it together.”

You want to cry.

Your shift in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, and he quickly reaches for your hand in order to drag you toward the bench just behind him.

“Okay, all right,” he murmurs as he brings you to sit. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me help, what can I do?”

You stumble over a breath and glance down at your lap. If you look at him, you’ll never do it. “I…I…”

You can’t force the words out. Can’t find what you really want to say – can’t even believe you’re saying it at all.

But you have to. You have to protect him; you have to do what he won’t.

He dips down in order to recapture your attention. “Deep breath, baby, okay? Just talk to me. I just wanna help.”

It hurts the way he speaks to you. Hurts the way he’s still trying to help. The way he cradles your face in his hand in order to comfort you.

“I…” You swallow thickly and revel in the feel of his touch for the last time. “I think…I think we should take a break.”

His head tilts, but he appears unfazed. Perhaps he doesn’t understand or perhaps he didn’t really hear you. “What?”

And you almost hate him for making you repeat it. “I want to take a break. I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Now he hears you, but he it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand. Leaning back as his features twist together. “Cherry…”

And suddenly, you feel unsure. Consumed by the idea that you're making a huge mistake. Maybe there's another way, maybe...maybe you just didn't look hard enough.

Because what if letting him go does more harm than good? What if he can't find another way without you? What if you can't live without him?

But then Jesse's threat rings in your ear. The taunt that he'd kill him himself if he didn't do things differently. If he didn't listen.

If you couldn't convince him

And the moment you imagine Harry lying on the ground– dead – you realize that this is truly the only way.

You raise your eyes to his, and it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “I’m sorry.”

But it appears your apology falls on deaf ears. He merely frowns, regarding you almost suspiciously. “He got to you, didn’t he? He’s making you say this.”

“No…no, he just—”

“He what? S’this about what he said? S’this about what I said? Because I meant it. I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No, Harry, I just…I think you were right. I think we’re never gonna agree on how to handle this and…and maybe there’s a reason.”

He considers this before rejecting it with a soft scoff. “We don’t have to agree. I told you, I can handle him—”

“I don’t think you can,” you argue. “And I think it’s better if we just quit while we’re ahead.”

It’s bullshit. All of it. A bunch of empty lies that chip away at your happiness.

The frown deepens. “Cherry…I don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand, and…and I don’t think you ever will.” You force the tears back. “We’re not the same people, Harry. It was never going to work.”

This is what crushes him. This confirmation of your differences and of the very thing he feared. That you’d reject him for being who he is.

You nearly take it all back when you see his expression soften.

“Cherry,” he tries again, “if…if I did something, I—”

“You did a lot of things,” you tell him. Deciding that the only way you’ll get through this is if you fight him at every turn. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.”

His shoulders visibly droop. “I know, I…I’m just trying to make it better.”

You didn’t think it could get worse. And you want to comfort him. Want to help him understand, make him see. Have this unshakable need fix the desolate expression on his face. Kiss it away, make it better.

But you don't.

“I know,” you echo instead, offering a just hint of kindness as you place your hand on his knee. “But this is how we make it better. By letting go. And saying goodbye.”

He glances down at his leg as though your touch stings, and you retract your arm almost instantly. “You want me to say goodbye?”

No. Never. “Yes. I think it’s for the best.”

He nods once and his eyes become unfocused. As though he’s lost. Completely checked out of his own body, and it sends the knife directly into your heart.

Then, he lifts his head, and regains a moment of clarity. “I love you.”

The knife twists and the first sob breaks free. “Harry—”

“I love you, Cherry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to take a fucking break, I…” He stops, and you can see the torment painted so perfectly across his face. “I love you. I can’t do this without you.”

And you know he won’t. You know he’ll do everything he can to bring you back. To change your mind, remind you where you belong. He’ll never let you go.

So, you do the one thing you don’t want to.

“I don’t love you,” you whisper. “I love…him.”

You’ve never seen him look so miserable.

It’s like you’ve slapped him. He leans back so fast, you’re dizzy. Putting a violent distance between your bodies until you nearly lose your breath.

He takes in a quiet inhale that’s more like a gasp, and you want to change your mind. You want to throw yourself into his arms and apologize and tell him you love him and go back to how things were only 24-hours ago. You want to pretend you never saw that look on his face.

But you can’t. You have. You said it and for all he knows, you mean it.

“You love him,” he repeats, and it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. “You…no. No, you don’t love him, you…how can you love him? How…how?”

“I…I talked to him,” you lie, reaching up to swipe your knuckles across your cheek. “He’s…he’s my Jesse. He’s…I’ve always loved him. I just…I didn’t realize.”

He scoffs again, but it’s riddled with disdain and desperation. “Your Jesse.”

“Yes, my Jesse.” You don’t think your heart has ever broken this bad. “I’ve always loved him. I always will. And he…he explained, and I believe him. I’m choosing to believe him—”

“Oh, fuck that,” he nearly growls, springing onto his feet until he’s towering over you. “No, he…him? After everything he did to you, you fucking…you love him? You want to be with him?”

“Harry—”

“No. How can you…” He steels himself, and another tear falls from your eye. “You can’t love him. You can’t, I know you. Okay, I saw how you looked at him and I saw how you looked at me, and it’s not the same. You don’t love him, you’re just…you’re scared.”

He’s right, you are.

“I’m not scared, Harry, I just…I know what’s best for me,” you murmur. “And he’s what’s best.”

It tastes vile in your mouth. All of it, every lie, every false feeling, and you feel sick.

He steps back, and a part of you almost hopes he simply walks away so you won’t have to keep doing this to him. To yourself.

But maybe this is your punishment. To watch the way you ruin him as you do it.

“You can do better than him and you know it,” he nearly sneers, but it’s sad the way he speaks. “And it doesn’t have to be me, but…fuck, you have to do better than him. You deserve so much better than him, Cherry, and I don’t…I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap, anxious to reach for him. “I’m sorry.”

He only shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t be. S’my fucking fault for thinking I could do better."

“Harry—”

“No, it’s fine,” he says, but you know, undoubtedly, that he doesn’t mean it. “If you love him, then you fucking love him. I’m never gonna be able to change that.”

You feel as though you’re being ripped apart from the inside out. You’ve never experienced a pain like this before, and you imagine it’s still only a fraction of the pain he puts himself through in that ring.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and it’s enough to draw his attention back. “I never want to hurt you, Harry. I really do care about you, I just…”

He looks gutted. “You just care about him more.”

You wonder if he really believes you. You wonder if that small pull of his brows is because he’s hurt or because he knows what you’re really doing.

Either way, he steps back, and takes himself from you. Putting the first few feet of the eventual thousand between you. “It’s fine,” he murmurs once more. “I just want you to be happy, Cher. And if you’re happy with him, then…”

He can’t finish the thought. Can’t force the words between his gritted teeth, and you understand.

“Thank you,” you exhale, and your pulse begins to race. Because you know what comes next, and you aren’t quite sure you’re prepared. “And…I hope you figure everything out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, but there’s something dark in the way he speaks. Something you’re almost afraid to recognize. “I will.”

It’s ominous, but you suppose that’s all you deserve. “Right.”

He moves back even further, and you nearly collapse.

“Harry?”

He pauses, hands disappearing into his pockets as though to shield himself from you.

“Thank you,” you call quietly. “For…for everything.”

His lashes flutter, and even despite the affliction written between the lines of his face, you realize he’s never looked so beautiful. “Don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”

And all you can do is look down at your lap in order to shield him from the influx of tears that break free.

A moment passes of your soft hiccups and trembling hands before you hear his shoes shuffle across the concrete. He’s walking away. He’s leaving you behind. He’s saying goodbye. For good. You’ll never see him again, and he’ll never sit in that booth again, and he’ll never be your stranger ever again—

Two hands find your face. Lifting your head until you’re forced to look up and see him.

He’s here.

And he’s tugging you up onto your feet until he can hold you against his chest and really look at you. Thumbs sweeping just beneath your eyes to catch each falling tear.

Then…he kisses you.

You’ve kissed him before. Many times, in fact, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this…heavy. Never carried the kind of meaning it does right now as he keeps you against his lips for as long as you’ll allow.

Because this is the last kiss.

You don’t want to let go. Don’t want to let him let you go. But he does all too soon and you’ve never felt so alone.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I couldn’t be who you need.”

And you want to scream. Want to tell him that he is. That he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But he’s already removing his hands from your face before you can.

And you’re forced to watch as the man that you love turns around…and walks away.

For the last time.

Next Part:

~ Outlawed*

Previous Part:

~ Reckless*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @char112244 @harryscowgirl @hsbabygirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @hermionelove @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave

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cyber333angel · 1 month

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DEALER!BARRY X SPOILED!READER X DEALER!RAFE <3

you get a little too “spoiled” when with your boyfriends — barry and rafe!

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it was the weekend, meaning it was time for shopping spree at the mall! strolling around the coach store of your favorite big building, you struggle to choose which bag your boyfriends would pay for. behind you they walked, talking while watching you happily trudge in front of them. “blueberry or cherry?” you ask holding them both up next to you, posing with them in your pink tracksuit . “you can get both of em mama.” barry tells you and rafe looks at him, “she doesn’t need both, you spoil her too much.” barry rolls his eyes, “s’not like we can’t afford it big bruh, if she wants it she can have it.” you squeal at his retort, and hug him. “thank you bear!” giving him an attack of kisses on his cheek. rafe sighs “that’s not the point. you know how bratty she gets when she thinks she can have anything she wants. don’t act surprised when she throws a tantrum cause she can’t have something.”

“mhm.” barry says walking to the other shelf of jewelry with you, looking back at rafe and stick your tongue at him and say “bleh!” he furrows his eyebrows and power-walks toward you, shrieking at his scariness, you run and hide behind barry.

after shopping, you arrive home at tannyhill. “thank you rafe!” giving him a kiss for funding half the shopping spree “thank you bear!” you give your other boyfriend a kiss for the other half of funding and take your bags up to your room, placing them in your walk in closet.

later on a friday, your sitting on the couch with rafe, watching tv while he scrolls through his phone. bored you say, “rafey can we go to the mall? I smelt this miss dior perfume last week and I really liked it but we never bought it.” he doesn’t look up from his phone. “no. we already went this week, no need to go for a while.” you pout at him, “no but I really need it! im going somewhere with-“ he cuts you off. “what i just say huh? no. getting so fuckin bratty this early in the morning..” you look at him with a vexed face and you mumble. “I bet barry would take me..so infuriating”

rafe looks up at you from his phone. “what’d you say?” trying to escape the scene, you get up and walk to the the kitchen telling him, “s’nothing!”

“what i fucking thought.” he says quietly but harsh enough for you to hear. barry comes home later at night finding rafe in the kitchen opening a can of beer. “yo country club.” he looks for you and doesn’t see you with rafe as you usually are at this time, he asks ” where’s our girl?” rafe chuckles “sleeping off the badass little attitude she had today.”

barry, confused on what attitude you could possibly have, “what’d she do?” sighing, rafe shoots him a look “she started acting like a fucking brat cause I told her she can’t go to the mall again as if we didn’t go this week already. it’s because of you she thinks she can always have her way.”

barry had always been the one to be the most lenient with you, he loved you and would do anything to protect his girl. and of course rafe loves you as well and would do more than anything for you, but someone had to keep you in check and it was always rafe. “well come talk to her with me then. we’ll set her straight.” you wake up to barry picking you up by the armpits, blinking awake and rubbing your eyes with your manicured nails , “mm hi bear..”

“hey princess, we gotta talk so let’s go downstairs and get something t’a eat alright?” he readjusts the satin bonnet sliding off your head, you nod at him still sleepy. gaining energy you sit on the island of your kitchen while barry fixes you some milk and and a grilled cheese. rafe stands in front of you, you roll your eyes following from the earlier argument. he jerks his head back from the sudden sass, “don’t roll your eyes at me, you know your manners.“ he looks back at barry, “ you-you see what im talking about right? she’s getting too fucking rude. what is it, you need some dick? what’s with the attitude?” you look at him with all seriousness in your face “I wanted to go to the mall rafe!” he breathes hard through his nose. “im fed up with you. barry go talk some sense into that girl before i bend her over the table i swear.” barry turns the stove off, finishing your grilled cheese and cuts it diagonally placing it next to you with a glass milk. “what’s going on going on sweet girl? I hear you throwing tantrums round’ this house, what’s that about?” you pout at him “rafes being mean t’me saying I can’t go shopping!”

“well you know if we tell you something your supposed to listen even if it’s something you don’t wanna hear.” he tilts his head at you “hm? now why don’t you gone head and apologize to polo boy over there f’me.” you look up at him and huff, turning your back to rafe sitting on the couch you shout “rafe could you come over here please!” he rises from his seat and walks over to you, “don’t yell in the fucking house. what is it? you gonna apologize for the way you been acting?” you nod, “mhm i just wanted to say m’sorry daddy. I didn’t mean to be a brat, you just get me nice things all the time, and i guess I got carried away! it won’t happen again, promise!” holding up your pinky finger to pinky promise your boyfriend, rafe chuckles, interlocking his pinky with yours. “thanks for the apology baby, your gonna be a good girl for the rest of the week right?” he says nodding his head waiting for you to agree, “mhm.”

barry interjects, “well I think our pretty girl deserves a reward for being a big girl today right?” and rafe bows his head in a agreeing motion diving in to kiss you deeply from the right side of your body. your other boyfriend on your left, slides his rough hands on your thighs. “open your legs f’me mama.” you split your legs apart revealing the wet spot on your pink laced panties and through your thin shorts. barry takes off your short sleeping pants as well as your panties, letting the shorts drop to the floor, he puts your pink lace into his pocket. bending down he kisses you up from your calfs, up to your knees and to your inner thighs. “you gone let me make you feel good angel?” you nod frantically through rafes kisses. barry hooks his biceps under your thighs to bring you now soaked cunt closer to his face. “you smell so fuckin sweet for daddy, love this pussy.” he spits on your bud, sucking it harshly, making you squirm around the table. you whimper into rafes mouth from the intensity of barry’s lapping. rafe lifts up your shirt exposing your breasts and starts to pinch your nipples, with a different hand he unbuckles his pants. he grabs your hand and pulls out his cock letting you stroke his length. whispering “fuck..” under his breath, you paw at him faster. you shiver when barry thrust his tongue into your wet cunt, he takes his tongue out and shoves two fingers in and the other hand rubbing furiously at your clit. you take the one hand you have left and grip at rafes shirt from the extreme stimulation of your cunt. “be a good girl and come for daddy.” your boyfriend below you says, finishing you off. you arch your back, “mmph!” stuttering into rafes mouth, he lets go of your moistened lips, his dick standing tall from your jerking at it. hiccuping you say “that felt so g-good daddy.. I want you in me now please!”

“course mama.” barry gets up and lifts you off the counter, guiding you to the couch in the living room, you take rafes hand and he follows behind you. barry unbuttons his pants and his cock springs out, average height but so unbelievably thick. he sits on the couch and pulls you close to him, you hover over him letting him position his dick into your slick cunt. sinking down he praises you, “goood girl. shit, you taking me so well angel.” you mewl at him “mm it’s so big daddy!” rafe watches the scene and stands in front of you, gripping your jaw to force you to look up at him. “you wanna make daddy feel good too right?” you nod frantically and he lets go of your face, holding up his cock with one hand he slaps it on your cheek and positions it into your mouth. he thrusts his cock into your mouth making you choke, gripping your neck to make your gullet feel tighter. behind you, barry’s fucking up into your cunt with wet sounds heard all around the living room. it makes your head spin and clench harder around his cock “you doing so well for us princess, see how being a good girl gets you a reward?” you can’t answer with your throat being used but you do agree. “this fucking mouth..god you feel so good.” choking, as rafe speeds up the pace, he releases his warm load deep into your throat, thrusting as deep as he can to make it stick. “you better swallow all of it sweetheart..shittt..” he takes his cock out your mouth looking at your face. he grabs you face again “stick out your tongue.” you do as your told, showing him your empty mouth, cum nowhere to be seen but in your stomach. “good girl.” your eyes are half lidded and you smile up at him, still getting pounded from behind. “f-fuck daddy your going too hard..” barry smacks your ass, a firm slap that makes you flinch “don’t say that shit.” you sob at the harsh tone. “m’sorryyy daddy, your just hitting it so deep!”

“yeah I know mama..im bout to finish.” he puts in his last brutal thrust. plap-plap-plap and you cry at the rapid pace, taking your hands and placing them on barry’s thighs, a weak attempt to slow him down. looking up at rafe he tells you to “move your fucking hands.” you flinch, removing them and instead you reach your hands out to rafe, interlocking your hands together. barry at his climax, nuzzles his dick deep into your pussy, burrowing his warm cum into your pussy. “mm felt so good..both make me feel so g-good, oh goddd!” twitching when barry pulls out your cunt, he gets up from under you. they both admire you as the cum leaks out from your abused pussy. “what a fucking view..” after they finish using you, rafe lifts you up “let’s get you cleaned up sweetheart, did so good.” barry cleans up the pillows knocked off from this whole affair and goes to the kitchen, putting your grilled cheese in the microwave for you to eat tomorrow. your boyfriends both clean you up in the tub, they wash you off and clean out the load still buried in your cunt. they change you into one of their shirts, placing you in the shared bed you lay between them. you mumble as you drift to sleep “bear and rafey..can I go shopping now?” they both chuckle at you still acting like spoiled brat. “sure sweet girl.” as you fall asleep in their arms.

#obx smut #rafe x reader <3 #barry x reader <3 #barry obx #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x black reader #barry is such a sweetiekins in this I love him and rafes mean ass #me when I don’t get my way #outer banks #rafe smut #rafe imagine #barry outer banks

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alwaysshallow · 6 months

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@bunnyreaper's secret santa thing; I had the pleasure to write for @cooliofango ❤️ I hope you're gonna have the best time reading this, love.

AO3 VERSION

Simon isn't there—that's the first thing you notice, when you wake up.

You think it's odd; he always sticks around, especially in the morning. Either he is reading something in bed, a book or an article, or tries to wake you up, softly, kissing your arm, if it was past nine in the morning.

Right now, even his side of the bed is cold, so he had to leave at least an hour ago, maybe more. You get up with a slight frown on your face, multiple questions in the back of your mind, what possibly could bring Simon out of bed. There's many thoughts, and they aren't really positive; usually if he had to leave, it was something military related. A missile missing, someone to rescue, intel to get or secure.

Being with Riley made you realize how fucked up the world is and how many times it needs to be saved. This time though, in theory, he has vacations that he asked for. Holidays with his girlfriend, he said, which caused you to grin like crazy one, since you loved this term. His girlfriend, his significant other with whom he decided to spend time with, even if he doesn't like holidays.

It's main reason why you aren't really doing anything festive this year; out of respect to him. Sure, you spend more time together, you plan to watch movies tonight, make some food, but nothing really related to Christmas. No lights, no tree, nothing what could possibly trigger his memory with the holidays and make the time worse than it already was.

But now, your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, and your plans are under a big question mark. You don't even know where he is, if he is here, in your shared house that you've decided to buy a few months ago.

"Baby?" you call out, looking around. There's a few boxes laying on the ground, door is wide-open; if you wouldn't know any better, you'd assume that somebody broke in. Knowing your boyfriend though, how he secured the house... hell, it takes only one wrong move and alarm goes off, as Simon said once, shortly after he installed it.

So, door wide-open, bringing in the cold, clear indicator that he actually is here somewhere. And, sooner than later, you'll see him.

You prefer sooner than later, though, so you go through the door, just to see your man with a tree—Christmas tree, to be precise—with shocked expression on his face. Then, he puts it down, just to sneak his arms around you, tight. Just like he loved to do, practically from the start of your relationship.

For a military man, he is very touch starved, and you try every time to give him the love he deserves.

"You didn't wake me," you murmur into his broad chest, at which he chuckles. You look up at him, seeing his brown eyes sparkling.

"Sorry, love. Had to take care of some things," he says, his hand caressing your back delicately. "But 'm here now. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Oh, no, no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I want to know why there's a Christmas tree here. And those boxes? Seems like decorations to me, Mr. Riley."

He acts like you caught him red handed on something; Simon looks away and sighs, just to look at you a few seconds later with a semi-guilty look on his face. You have to hold back a laugh; he seems so stressed about something simple, it's adorable.

"I don't like Christmas," he starts, playing with your hair. "But I know you like 'em. Your eyes sparkle every time you see this shit, lights, trees, everythin' and—"

"—Simon, we don't have to—"

"—let me finish." He looks at you, a bit sternly, so you nod. You have to listen to him, especially if he asks you to. "And I just can't do this to you. Take it away from you. 'm a grown man, it's time to change some things. 'specially those hurtful ones."

You gnaw at your bottom lip, silent for a few seconds, as you try to collect your thoughts about this situation. It's hard not to cry right now, given how he overcomes his own weaknesses, just for you. Just for the both of you, so your future will be brighter.

"You are," you cup his cheeks into your hands, "the best man I've ever, ever met. I'm so lucky to have you, you know? A man that's willing to spend Christmas with me the traditional way, to

“You can't say this shit to me,” he warns, his voice almost a whisper. You raise your eyebrow, but you don't stop kissing his jaw, even when he sighs.

"Because that's so bad? Or because that's the truth and you'll blush any second?" you ask teasingly, at which he rolls his eyes with a small smile on his lips. To see his smile, to see how happy you can make him... you cherish every moment like that, knowing his history. Knowing how hard it was, how hard it still is because demons doesn't go easily.

Yet, you see the progress. His battle, to be more open, to allow himself to be more vulnerable at least around you.

“You’re gonna make me even more addicted," he explains to you, kissing your face a few times. He bangs with his nose against your eyeglasses, but he doesn't really seem to mind. "And I’m already weak. It's like... you're something that I’m not immune to. Everyone will see that later, on that Christmas party.”

He doesn’t say he loves you. That would be crazy, he thinks; every time he told someone he loves them, they died. He doesn't want it to happen with you, not when he didn't think of an idea how to possibly save you, keep you safe and locked, close to his heart.

But he can’t deny that you have him wrapped around your finger and you always will. Task Force 141 knows about you, they even invited you two to the Christmas party later, but the l-word has to wait. You know that he loves you anyway; maybe he doesn't say it, but his actions shows you enough love. And, he has other words—be safe, you know I care about you.

It speaks louder than simple I love you but he knows he's gonna say it. He has to, even for your sake.

"That's good. I love you being addicted." You grin, hugging him even tighter. "Because I'm addicted to you as well. To my big, wonderful boyfriend. Now... about those Christmas decorations."

You wouldn't think that decorating your shared house with Simon would be so fun and chaotic in the same time. Your boyfriend does the lights—since his height abilities are just insane—and you are basically running around with snowmen, reindeers and other creatures that you somehow can associate with winter. Riley also gives you disapproval looks from time to time, telling you to dress yourself properly, as you're just on your pyjamas; it ends up in you being in his big, warm hoodie, since you don't listen.

It's like everything you dreamed for, in domestic matter.

The best is taking care of the tree, though. You two have different ideas—yours with doing it in two colors that compliment each other, red and gold for example, which would give the glamour vibe of the house. Or, Simon's idea which is complete chaos. He looks so happy with placing the ornaments, that you don't tell him about color theory, you don't suggest making it less colorful either.

You just put everything just like he is, with instinct, and when he asks about your opinion, you can't help but smile widely and praise him for being creative. His enjoyment gives you the time of your life, honestly.

"You do it like it's in your blood," you say, laughing happily when he gives your cheek a big, wet kiss. His arms locks around you automatically, his lips dropping a bit lower.

"'st because of you. My girl," he purrs. "Maybe we should take a break and eat somethin', eh? Something Christmas-y."

"Christmas-y?" you repeat, observing with a small smile stomach how he drags you over to the couch, towering over you. He has absolutely no problem with crashing you with his weight, which feels so good considering how warm he is. "What would you like?"

"Anything my woman wants, I'll eat. My civilian woman."

You can't help the sensation of your heart fluttering at this view; at Simon kissing your knuckles, at Simon being so affectionate. You are sure that you haven't seen him like this before, not this open with his feelings.

"Yours. That civilian woman, for a superordinary man," you say, quietly.

“My civilian woman.” Simon’s eyes shine as he repeats your words, a light smirk forming as he gazes down at you. You really are gorgeous, so beautiful as you're there in his arms. "'m not superordinary, but I guess I'll take it."

He reaches over to remote, turning off the light in the room. Now, all that’s illuminated is the moonlight and sparkling, multicolor Christmas lights, casting a pale ray of light in the darkness.

Before he loses himself in your eyes, he leans over and presses his mouth to yours. It’s a slow, quiet, yet passionate kiss—one that sparks a fire in both your souls.

"That sounds very dorky, if you think about it," you chuckle quietly, still keeping his gaze. His brown eyes are fixed on yours, glimmering so gently, you can't help but be lost in them. God, it's even better when he turned off the light. You don't see each other properly, but the dark figures are adding everything to your imagination, when you continue this slow kiss.

You can only hear your lips smacking against each other.

“You’re perfect to me,” he says, his voice husky as he gazes down at you. You make his heart flutter. You always do, but lately, those butterflies have turned into something else, as he told you a dew days ago. "The most perfect woman in the world. Even if it's cheesy, as you say."

"You're such a cheesy man, Riley," you whisper, as you smile at his sudden comment how you are perfect to him. Knowing that he's not the best with words, and still says something like this, was just the most important thing for you. "But I like that in you. Just as much as your soft spot for those romcoms we watch. Even if you call them sappy and cringe," you say, closing your eyes.

"They are sappy and cringe. But it's our type of sappy and cringe," he murmurs into your skin, burying his face in your neck. Right in this moment, he doesn't seem to care about anything else.

And you don't care about anything else either, when you have him right by your side. Safe and secure, far from deployment, far from all those dangerous things probably just waiting for him out there.

"I love you," he whispers.

And you know you have your gift.

#simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley fluff

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 months

Text

dk why but im thinkin about shoto w a sweet tooth who follows you and hangs around the kitchen waiting for the cookies you made to finish baking while staring at the oven like a kid, soooooo.. (shoto might be a bit ooc, slight super small pinch of angst but super fluffy as usual ! gn reader, mentions of food, lemme know if i missed sum else ! <3)

"sho.." shoto hums in response, eyes fixed on the oven.

"the cookies aren't gonna bake faster if you stare at 'em."

you hold back a giggle when he slowly turns to look up at you from where he's crouched down on the floor. his eyes that were practically pasted to the oven widening the slightest bit like he'd been caught doing something bad. he blinks at you, then swiftly looks away.

"i'm just checking to make sure they don't burn." he explains. you don't know if you've seen him blink more than four times the entire time you've been staring at him staring at the chocolate chip marshmallow cookies you made together. (together meaning with him watching you most of the time and occasionally mixing. as much as you love your boyfriend, he should absolutely not be trusted around food.)

"that's what we have the timer for." you quip, leaning against the kitchen cupboard and crossing your arm with a smirk.

he looks up at you, then fixes the kitchen timer sitting on the stove with a little frown that you recognize as a pout, you huff out a light laugh at his cute expression. from his miniscule facial expressions you can see he's a little embarrassed at the fact you'd outsmarted him. he turns to look at the cookies again.

"i can see when they're done baking better from here. faster than the timer can."

"oh yeah ?"

he nods "very clearly."

you snort. after looking at him for a while longer you sigh to get his attention. it works immediately and he looks up at you, eyes occasionaly trailing back to the oven towards the cookies as he waits to hear what you want.

you wordlessly spread your arms out, batting your eyelashes at him. he blinks, then a small smile grows on his handsome face in realization. he slowly walks over to you before pulling you into a comfortable hug, he huffs out a chuckle when you squeeze his waist.

shoto buries his head into your shoulder, right into the crook of your neck, and breathes you in. he’s had a habit of doing that often—if not every time you hug—and you don’t really know why he does, but you definitely don’t mind.

"you could've just told me that you wanted to try the cookies first." you tease, giggling when he huffs against your shoulder. he turns his head to speak against your neck.

"that wasn't my intention." he mumbles weakly, nosing at your neck when you scoff out a laugh.

"right. that's why you were practically glued to the oven mere seconds ago."

"i did no such thing."

"don't lie !" you reprimand, tugging at his hair lightly in joking punishment "you're not getting any cookies if you do." you hear him huff and feel a slight smirk growing against you.

"i..may have been surveying them rather closely—"

"very closely."

"—but it was simply to check." he finishes, ignoring your comment. shoto noses at your shoulder and sighs "i felt like even though you wanted to make the cookies together, i was barely able to help you with anything.." he trails off. your eyebrows furrow, and you try pull shoto out of the nest he's made for himself inside your shoulder, but shoto could be extremely stubborn when he wanted to be. his arms tighten around your waist and he his hair tickles against your cheek when he tries to shove his head inside your shoulder somehow.

you sigh, giving up your attempts to get him to look at you and simply settle on running your fingers through his hair, soothing him as he sighs contently. "sho, you helped me out lots. you always took over for me when i didn't feel like mixing anymore and helped me out with those big strong arms of yours." you feel him smile against you and your smile grows mirroring his.

" but i really wanted to help you out more, i know i'm not really good at this.." he mutters sadly, a frown grows on his face and you feel the corners of your mouth turn down as well.

"but you're real good at a lot of other things ! i'm not great at everything either." you reason, absentmindeldly twirling a strand of his hair around your finger "but i could teach you some tips and tricks, if you want."

he looks up at you at that, the smile growing on his face makes your heart race. "really ? i might be a little hard to manage." he jests, running his hands up and down your sides. his eyes brighten the more he looks at you and you're 100% sure you mirror his expression when you throw him a smug smirk.

"don't you underestimate me, mr todoroki ! you're nothing compared to what i've dealt with before."

"oh ?" he hums, lifting a brow. you nod and his smiles grows " and what, if i may ask, have you dealt with before ?" he challenges.

"that is classified information that i cannot disclose. you're just gonna have to trust me." you shoot back and press your finger to his lips, snickering when his eyes widen a fraction before he looks down at you playfully. he takes hold of your hand and presses a kiss to each of your fingertips, making fireworks go off inside your stomach.

"well then," he presses a final lingering kiss to the back of your hand with a run of his thumb against your skin. his eyes glow with mischief when he looks at you.

"i'm in your care."

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signedkoko · 4 months

Note

(separate) lucifer and striker with an s/o who fell from the heavens headcanons!! the more closer they get, the more they realize their s/o was one of the angels on the council but didn’t condone the extermination — of which, they were casted down to hell.

Lucifer | Striker X Reader [Romantic]

In which they know you are a fallen angel, but not the extent to which you protected hell. Reader is genderneutral.

Lucifer could sense your presence quite fast

But only because you weren't an exterminator—no, you were something far stronger

It pained him to see a new angel cast down, the first since he was, bloodied and caught in the fiery pit you'd have to call home

He understood you must have been an angel that came along after him, though, because he didn't recognize you

Either way, Lucifer offered you a place to stay and let you adjust to life in hell through his lens—a safe house where demons couldn't bother you as much

Of course, he also wanted to make sure the news of your existence didn't get out

He could only imagine the kinds of people who might want to get their hands on a fresh angel

Even though he was cast down himself, Lucifer is very flattered that you know him and that you speak so highly of him

You quickly worm your way into his heart, and he loves talking to you a lot about his past and all the things he kept buried within him

Even down here, you still seemed happy, although a tad uneasy

He won't pressure you for your backstory too much, but with his knowledge of heaven he is able to gather that you were at least a mid-ranking angel on the council

Your position exactly, he wasn't sure

He only found out after he spoke about his daughter's plan with the hotel

" Thats a wonderful idea! They may cast me down for demanding an end to extermination, but I won't let them ruin your daughters redemption plans. "

You dropped it so casually that he almost missed it, swooning at how supportive of Charlie you were

Actually chokes

Please give him a moment to catch his breath because, wait, really?

That explains a lot, at least

Of course, heaven would cast down the most beautiful of angels just for being kind to even the most damned beings

That same anger within him roars back to life, both for you being shut down and for how he, too, was treated in heaven

He'd make sure your life was far better here, no matter what it took

Being a fallen angel is already an extremely worrisome background for Striker, especially following his hate for royalty

Not that a fallen angel is royalty, but the power dynamic is hard for him to get over, as guilty as he feels now for holding it against you

When you first met, he saved you from another bounty hunter

Saved is the wrong word

He stole you so he could get a prize himself

But it all backfired when you were just so kind and curious, and offering you up to some terrible people didn't feel like the right move

Striker told himself he'd hold onto you until he knew the true value of an angel, but that may have just been him stalling for time

Either way, your charm worked wonders, and now he was stuck with the most attention-grabbing partner in all of hell

Oh well, he knew he could protect you

While he was curious about your life in heaven, Striker was extremely used to not asking questions about others past

But the more he knew, the more he wanted to know

Every few months, you'd tell a story that revealed a new interesting piece of information, things that made him wonder what you had to have done to be so harshly cast down

It all made sense when he puzzled it together one afternoon, when you were particularly fond of your past memories

" I hope Em isn't in trouble too. "

" Why so? "

" Well, she also thought killing demons was pretty bad... "

" Of course, hun. "

As usual he nods along with you before he freezes and jumps out of his chair

" Hol on now, what? "

Striker is able to puzzle things together fast, and he's not sure if he's more pissed at the angels above you or if he's surprised you felt that way

He'd always assumed no angels thought good of demons, but this changed things

Next extermination, he wants to have a hand at capturing one of those winged fuckers and seeing if he can force some more out of them

Author's Note - DEVIL FINALLY I GOT TO UR REQ!!! More Striker content, love to see it- and ofc Lucifer, who I know is about to be eaten up by every person in this god forsaken community. Thank you for requesting 🖤

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader #striker #striker x reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Text

Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see.

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter.

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.”

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears.

“Need any help, miss?”

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store.

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?”

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.”

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.”

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?”

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?”

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it.

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.”

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house.

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face.

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?”

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?”

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.”

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.”

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass?

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own.

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides.

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap.

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!”

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?”

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.”

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his.

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager.

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does.

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body.

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him.

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you.

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over.

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue.

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes.

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours.

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside.

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?”

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling.

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin.

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?”

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you.

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him.

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line.

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?”

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.”

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone.

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?”

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this.

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.”

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath.

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute.

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.”

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?”

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat.

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed.

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you.

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?”

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier.

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.”

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