#please get your heads out of their asses Jesus Christ
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Sam Winchester x reader headcanons
a/n: if you thought I only made shitty Sam headcanons, WRONG‼️ cuz I also made a shitty moodboard (i'm extra like that yeehaw)
- Takes notice of the books you read, that is if you don't give him recomendations bc if you do that boy has a whole ass notepad and is a fast writter so try him.
- "Y/n would like this" "Y/n would probably know" "Y/n was right"- Dean gets seriously tired and makes jokes about how often Sam talks about you
- you think he's joking untill Sam isn't glaring daggers at him- but instead he starts blushing and straching the back of his head like a damn schoolboy.
- reads your body language very well- "What's wrong?" Sam asks putting all of his attention onto you. "Nothing" You shrug it off (you're not slick at all). "Bull." Sam chides still looking at you hoping you'll tell him.
-literally the happiest when you sigh defeated and tell him what's wrong but shakes it off to actually listen to you.
- uses the soft tone he talks to victims with on you- not because he thinks you're weak or fragile
- you're a badass and he knows it
- you complimented him once on it (his voice) saying he is good at comforting and how no wonder people open up that easily when he talks like THAT to them.
- "Miss, when was your neighbour killed?" All puppy eyes furrowed eyebrows and soft tone almost sticking his chin to his chest + that fake ass FBI badge, You: "Yes-"
- Sam probably met Jess through the art courses he took I'm sobbing-
- I watched that episode and I had no idea (I'm so happy google exists) what he was talking about and I'm damn art student jesus christ
- "It's good for meeting girls." So good- SHHSAJGSS I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH SAM PLEASE
- Artsy Sam save me, Please Artsy Sam
- So touch starved, hug this man PLEASE
- If you're an artist yourself and draw, sketch, paint whatever, he'll want to see it
- even teach him some stuff, LAWD
- researches stuff abt you when he can't get you out of his head- for example : the meaning of your name, your zodiac sign, which celebrity you share your bday with, etc (he can't help it)
- reads banned literature (isn't he's so dreamy? 💞)
- his favourite movie is the notebook or pride and prejudice (and book!) because I said so
- Unconciously mirros your movements or tics, for example if you rub your nose with your wrist, he starts doing it too (it's contagious)
- Dean points it out but Sam wasn't raised to be fair so he justifies himself by saying he had that tic first and YOU are the one who started mimmicking him
- it's an ongoing war for some time but beacuse the system's corrupt the bastard lawboy Sam wins
- you two share an interest? HE IS SO HAPPY
- oh no! His t shirt accidentally made it's way into your bag! How did that happen? (It's him officer, that is the loverboy take him away)
- Alexa/google play good old fashioned loverboy by queen
- really likes earthy smells (freshly cut grass, pine trees and so on)
- Dean when he says your instead of you're
- love language is definetly quality time and touch
a/n: it took alot of self encouragement to post this so feedback would be very much appreciated<3! And for every person who voted "YEAHHH" on the poll, I hope your pillow is cold tonight 💞🫶
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i have made a grave mistake
#THIS IS A JOKE BUT#my mistake is simping for andy#AGAIN JOKING BUT#this man so fucking stupid#reading more of his autobiography and jesus christ. get some help you dumb fucking hippie (affectionate)#its honestly a miracle he didn't die in the 60s#and then. he is Constantly the Way he is. You Know#truly there has not been a hornier man#but hes also so fucking. the things he says#discussing proust with some girl like shut your pretentious ass. youre not sting don't be like this /j#and the tripping out. sir please#so hes got All That against him. and yet#he's also. him 💖#hitting myself in the head with a sheet pan over my terrible life decision
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Pairing: Pro-Hero!Katsuki x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Stuckage, slight dubcon, praise kink, degradation, light spanking, thigh fucking, spitting (on the pussy), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie
Word Count: 4k
A/N: I’ve wanted to write stuckage for so long, and who better with than Katsuki? For those who don’t know, stuckage just means one of the characters literally gets stuck and fucked lol in this case, it’s reader.
It’s a normal patrol night. Humid summer air sticks to sweaty, sweet smelling skin, makes Katuski’s hands itch in his gloves. In and out of alleys, checking lingering shadows and avoiding the gazes of pedestrians.
By midnight, he’s bored.
There are no alarms ringing on his phone, no idiot villains skirting around corners for him to chase. Wide awake and ansty, he slips down another alley, kicking a few trash bags before checking in a dumpster. He half-way wishes there was a body inside, just something to pique his interest.
“H-hey! Hey down there!” a feminine voice echoes off the brick walls of the apartment buildings, riding the heatwaves and sinking into the pavement.
Katsuki squints as he looks up, nose wrinkling at the thought of some fangirl yelling down at him from her bedroom.
Then, he sees you. You’re halfway out your window, three stories up.
He has to move around a bit to really get a good look at you, the rusted metal railings of the fire escape to your building blocking his view.
“What the fuck do you want?”
His tone is biting, like a dog snarling in warning to keep away.
“I need help! I- fuck,” you sound exhasperated, like you’ve been struggling, “My cat was on the fire escape—”
“Listen, I don’t chase after fucking cats! I’m a Pro-Hero, I have better shit to do.”
Though, at the moment, he truly doesn’t. But he most definitely doesn’t feel like manhandling some feisty cat on the streets.
“Oh my god,” he hears you mumble from above, head dropping as your hands press back on your window sill, “The cat’s fine! I’m the one who needs help. I’m…I’m stuck!”
Great. Some stupid damsel in distress. It’s a Saturday night, you should have better shit to do than worrying about your cat. You’re young, from what he can tell, probably in your mid-twenties like he is. You should be out partying, sucking cock and drinking too much.
“Fine! I’m coming up.”
With long leaps, he scales the fire escape easily, noticing how the other windows in this building either have their blinds closed or the lights are snuffed out. Your little window is glowing, though, warm yellow lamplight guiding his way to where you’re hanging.
His heavy boots on the steel make you shiver, your frayed nerves making you easily spooked. You raise your head the best you can, neck craning to look up at him.
“Oh. You’re Dynamight, right?”
He grits his teeth, sucking in a growl of frustration that you hadn’t recognized him earlier. His face is plastered on billboards, he’s the posterboy for Calvin Klein in magazines. You should know who he is just from one glance.
Purposely ignoring you, Katsuki crouches down to your level, making sure not to knock your stupid little head with his gauntlets as he starts to lift up on the window. He grunts as it doesn’t budge.
“It’s locked from the inside. Please don’t bust my lock, my landlord will fucking kill me,” you take in a deep breath, coughing a bit from where your lungs are trapped, “and the maintenance guy won’t fix it for a week.”
“Jesus fucking christ, then what do you want me to do? Push you back in?”
“Do you think that will work?”
Katsuki rebalances on his toes, staying low so he can actually take a look at your situation.
The heavy window has fallen onto your back, just below your shoulder blades. It fell at just the right angle to click the lock back in place, the simple turn mechanism taunting him from behind the glass. Your arms and tits are dangling on the outside, ass up inside your apartment. You’re in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, embroidered with some quirkless university logo.
“How long have you been like this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, like, half an hour? My fingers are going numb.”
You’re not even bothering to raise your head up to speak, just talking down through the galvanized steel gratings. Your hair is a mess from your struggling.
He’d be a shitty hero if he left you like this. From up here, you’re tempting. He can see the curve of your ass, pink thong peeking out from the hem of your shirt.
Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Is your apartment unlocked?”
“No. I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t leave my door open when I live alone.” You’re getting frustrated, groaning as you try to shift yourself again, ass wiggling and knuckles turning color as you press against the window sill and try to shove yourself back inside. “However, the guy in the apartment l-lobby has keys to all the apartments. Tell him you need the one to 3-A.”
“And you think he’s just gonna give it to me, sweetheart?”
You finally raise your head and look up at him, brows furrowed but your pretty eyes are teary. Your lips are inches away from his clothed cock, he could easily pry your mouth open and—
“You’re a hero, aren’t you? I’m sure he’ll give you the fucking key for a girl in need.”
Katsuki doesn’t bother to bite back his grumblings, muttering about how fucking stupid you are and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit as he descends the fire escape.
Like you said, the lobby attendant doesn’t bat an eyelash when Katsuki asks for the key to your apartment.
In fact, the guy stares at the orange and black of Katsuki’s chest, grinning as he looks up and asks for an autograph. Katsuki feels like grabbing the guy’s stupid head and bashing it into the counter. But he obliges, taking a few extra seconds to scribble his name onto an empty sign-in sheet.
“Thanks man! You got a date with that girl in 3-A? She’s a real cute one.”
“Shut up.”
On his journey up the stairs, Katsuki finds himself agreeing with the man. This could be worse, he could be helping some old hag stuck in her window, trapped in her curlers and nightgown. Instead, it’s some adorable little college girl who just might give him a special treat for saving her. That thought makes him smirk and hold on to the little metal key just a bit tighter.
When Katsuki pries open your apartment door, you are truly a sight to behold.
The window is behind your couch, one with soft cushions that your knees are sinking into. Gravity is working against you, making you lean down and out the window, your beautiful ass high and completely exposed as your shirt peels away from your waist.
The light pink thong does nothing to cover you, the fabric tight against the folds of your pussy between your legs. Katsuki slams the door shut just to watch you jump, legs spreading from the jolt.
Katsuki takes a moment just to look around your apartment, that nosy nature buried in everyone rearing its head. You’re definitely a student, bookshelves full of textbooks, notebooks, and whatever else you’ve been assigned to waste your time on. There are a few plants scattered around the one bedroom apartment, posters on the wall, a few framed pictures of your friends.
And the offender who started your predicament sits on the kitchen counter, swishing her tail as Katsuki makes a face. The cat doesn’t budge, just sits and stares with judgment.
“Alright, princess,” he wolf-whistles as he comes closer, flexing his fingers in his gloves, “you really got yourself into a fucking mess.”
You mumble outside the window, but he doesn’t catch it, mind on a single track as he stands right behind you. Closer now, he can see that your panties are wet, dampness making the cotton nearly see-through.
Hooking his index finger underneath the elastic of your thong, he snaps the fabric against your hip just because he can.
Your whole body jumps, a very audible moan sounding from outside.
“Oh, you like that?”
He laughs and repeats his action, taking the time to smooth his finger along the line of your thong before tugging and snapping the flimsy thing harder than before.
He knows this is wrong, the dronings of his hero ethics course ringing in his ears about how a hero should never take advantage of a civilian like this. But he’s a man, a dreadfully bored one with a ripe, round ass just under his fingertips.
Katsuki places one palm on each ass cheek, kneading the supple flesh and spreading them apart. His gauntlets clink as he does, reminding him that he’s a hero, that he’s so much stronger than your little body can probably handle.
“Hey!” One of your legs kicks back at him, missing entirely, “you can fuck me after you get me out of this god damn window!”
“Why wait? You’re already in such a perfect position.”
Katsuki’s grin is wild as he crouches down, becoming eye level with your pussy. Using his gloved thumbs, he spreads your cheeks apart, eyes gleaming as he watches your outer folds suck in your panties.
He feels so powerful, more than normal.
He could do whatever he wanted to you right now and you could do nothing to stop him. He could fuck you for hours, use you like a cocksleeve, dump his cum deep in your guts and still leave you stuck and hanging out of your window. And he just might.
Outside, you whine, a high-pitched tune filtering through the open space of the window. You sound so pitiful, so lost.
“Come on, princess, let’s have some fucking fun.”
He shows his teeth in delight as he draws the fabric of your panties into his fist, using it like reins to keep you in place. You cry out as the cloth digs into your pussy, hot against your clit, dragging along your puckered hole. Your thighs quiver, pressing together to try to relieve the heat he’s creating. He imagines shoving his cock between the fat of your thighs, feeling your soft skin close around him and tug.
“You’re such a stupid little thing, getting stuck like this.”
Your head nods out the window, which makes him chuckle. At least you know you’re a fucking idiot.
His cock is so hard it hurts, leaking tip confined by the tight compress of his boxer briefs.
Red eyes glaze over as he starts shedding some of his gear. His obnoxiously large gauntlets go first, bouncing and clinking on your sofa, followed by his gloves. Then his fingers are quick on his belt, his black cargo pants falling to his knees and draping over his boots.
Katsuki wastes no time pumping his shaft, hissing with relief as his thumb rubs his weeping head.
He peels your panties off slowly, watching how your wetness sticks to the fabric, slick drooling just from the tiniest bit of teasing.
“Such a fucking slut, all wet from a stranger pulling on your fucking panties.”
He gives your ass a quick swat, watching your flesh jiggle. You gasp loudly, lurching forward but not budging in the tight constraint of the window’s edge.
Katsuki spreads your labia with his index finger, playing in the wet heat. You shiver with every touch, hips bucking when the pad of his finger toys with your swollen clit.
“I like how sensitive you are, princess.”
You moan so sweetly at his praise, and he makes a mental note to give you more. But it’s hard not to demean you when you’re like this, all spread open and whimpering for a stranger, stuck in the stupidest position. If you have any of those book smarts to you, he’s about to fuck you dumb.
Your slick is hot against his cock as he rubs his wet fingers against his length. He can’t help himself, his cock aches, his lower stomach pulling tighter than sailor’s knots.
Moving his hips, Katsuki slides his length across your folds, throwing his head back and groaning as he sinks his bare fingers into your hips. He rubs his cock along your pussy a few times, back and forth, back and forth, teasing you both as the veins of his cock throb and glide through puffy folds.
“Fuck your cunt is so hot, whatever loser boyfriend you have doesn’t fucking deserve this.”
The head of his cock brushes your clit and it makes your thighs squeeze together, your hands moving outside to grab at your swinging tits for some semblance of control.
You mumble incoherently about not having a boyfriend.
“Oh yeah? Must’ve been saving this pussy just for me then.”
He almost wants to see if you could just take him now, if he could shove his cock into your too-tight cunt and fuck you through the pain of stretching.
But he’s not that cruel, at least not yet.
Katsuki manhandles you up higher, balancing your knees on the back of your couch so your thighs become the perfect height for his cock.
Still coated in slick, his thick cockhead pops easily into the fat of your pressed thighs, length sliding in afterward. He repeats the motion, drawing his cock all the way out from between your legs, then slowly burrowing his red-hot flushed cock back in.
Your pussy flutters at his ministrations, tight hole sucking around nothing.
“Oh poor baby wants something in her pussy, doesn’t she?”
Sucking in his cheeks, Katsuki gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drip from his lips and down onto your cunt. The clear spit coats your folds, gets lost in the mix of your slick.
He could stare at your cunt all fucking day. It’s sexy, unique, spreads for him so easily.
His fingers are quick, purposeful. His index finger prods you, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. You try to clamp your legs shut at the onslaught of pleasure, but his hand is more durable than you expected.
His fingers are long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that has you shaking and panting. Two of them push inside of you, gummy walls sucking around him. He isn’t gentle. Each move of his hand is a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine and bliss turning hot under your skin.
Cock thumping, Katsuki begins to rock his hips, fucking into your thighs as he shoves his fingers into your cunt.
You’re mewling outside the glass, like a cat in heat out in the alley. The sounds are raunchy, mesmerizing.
Your slick is dripping against his fingers, each squelching push of his hand has you pressing farther into him. His cock is nestled perfectly between your thighs and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulates him just as much.
“Love your fat fucking thighs,” he growls and slaps your ass with his free hand, grinning as your little body struggles to keep up with the onslaught of pleasures.
You are gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath the weight of the window on your back before your inevitable fall into delirium.
“Dyna—Dynamiiight,” if anyone was awake right now, they’d hear your moans echoing down the bricks of your building.
You cum hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slump down, knees dropping and thighs spasming around his cock. Your cunt is aching, cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cry out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes.
“Fuck your pussy gets tight when you cum, holy shit,” your hole pops with suction when he pulls his knuckles out of you.
You’re panting, exhausted and so sore from dangling out of your window, but he doesn’t care.
“I want you to scream like a little whore when I fuck you,” he spanks you to get your attention and pull you away from the aftershocks of orgasm, “you hear me out there?”
As Katsuki pumps his cock, smearing your wetness from his balls to his slit, he realizes he doesn’t even know your name.
Leaning forward, he bangs on the hazy glass with his fist to ensure he gets your attention.
“Hey! What’s your fucking name?”
Your body is limp, your hands now pressed down against the grates of the fire escape and blood rushing to your pretty head. Red eyes stare out the window until he sees a little nod. You raise your head to him, lips swollen from being pressed together, eyes glassy.
You look so fucking hot, all spent and messy just from what he’s doing to you.
You sputter out your name the best you can, gasping for air before rocking your hips back again, begging for his cock.
He shoves himself ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves at the same time the tense squeeze of your insides make him lose control. You scream, mouth hanging open against the humid air as his cock spears into your insides. The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that has moans spilling from your mouth even as you try to stop them.
There is no exit. No escape.
Just heavy breaths and the slapping of skin, wet flesh wrapped snugly around an intrusive cock.
Your body bounces back against him, ass rippling as his muscular thighs barrel into the backs of yours. You’re like a little fuck toy, pliant and soft, pussy gushing and sucking around his thickness.
Katsuki calls out your name just to hear you whine, grinning as he cups his hands around your waist and pulls you back with every quick thrust.
He likes having you like this, vulnerable, unable to move or even see what he’s about to do to you. Circling his thumb over your asshole, he does it just to hear your moans change pitch as you overthink, worrying he’s about to shove the thick digit into you. It’s tempting, but he’s far too focused on how your cunt feels.
Stuffed, he’s sure you feel so fucking stuffed, your puffy lips are dragging along his length with every push and pull, no room left in your guts every time he forces himself inside.
Cardinal eyes are glued to the color of your folds spreading around his cock, a thick cream pooling around his base, getting trapped in his coarse curls and staining his balls.
“You fucking love this, don’t you? Love having a stranger fuck you dumb.”
He doesn’t give a fuck that you can’t really respond; he’s losing his edge, his tongue becoming looser the more he races towards his climax.
“Knew I was gonna fuck you the moment I saw this pretty ass through the window,” he spanks you again, hard and fast, your cunt cinching tighter upon the moment of impact, “stupid little girl, needing to be fucking saved by a big strong,” he grunts, sweat dripping down from his hairline, “hero.”
Curses paint your lips each time his cock stretches you again, and again, and again, as the angle you’re trapped in has his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you with every fresh plunge.
“Oh you feel so fucking good squeezing me like that. So fucking good.”
The praise makes you louder, makes one of your neighbors bang on the wall to shut you up.
“You’re such a good girl for letting me fuck you like this, giving me your tight little cunt.”
Slick is drooling down your thighs, making every thrust a wet squish of flesh on flesh. You smell like sex, like sweat and salt, like some sweet fruit being peeled open just for him to taste.
“Need you to cum,” he groans, thinking about how your pussy grabbed hold of his fingers during orgasm, “want you to milk this fucking cock. Gonna cream in your cunt.”
He shouldn’t be so reckless. He should spray his seed on your back, he knows that, but your cunt is sucking him in so tightly that he wants to feel his cum rush your insides. Consequences be damned. He’ll breed you if he fucking wants to.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” that’s all he hears, like a lost bird chirping outside the window, all breathy and airy as you try to contain yourself.
Your orgasm is more intense than before. Katsuki practically feels your whole body go numb, limp, the gasp of a silent scream against foggy glass as every part of you trembles.
The seams of sanity split apart for Katsuki as his balls tighten and that first gush of cum bursts against your gummy walls.
He doesn’t stop, not even as he comes undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting down onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He is unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again.
Just because he can. Because you can do nothing about it except drag your nails along steel and squeeze your cunt.
Finally, the hormones stop humming, and Katsuki’s empty balls have grown sore from grinding against your abused clit. He lets your hips drop, his still-hard cock springing out from your insides.
Cum flicks onto his face from the bounce of his dick. He wipes his cheek with sweaty hands, chuckling as he places his palms on the window and catches his breath.
“You alright out there, princess?”
You babble something, give him a little whine.
Shit, he probably went too hard on you.
Quickly, Katsuki clicks the lock and lifts the window, and you rush to take a deep breath into your lungs.
“Holy fucking shit.”
You’re slipping out the window from the loss of stability. He grabs your shirt, nearly ripping the threads as he tugs you back inside your apartment. You tumble into his broad chest, panting and sweaty.
“Seriously, you okay?”
Katsuki is uncaring as he knocks his gear off the couch, metal clanging. He lays you back against the cushions, hands petting at your hair.
He grimaces when he notices a solid line of indentation across your abdomen, just below your bunched shirt. Where the window had you in its grasp will be tender tomorrow.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…trying to catch my breath.”
Unable to help himself, Katsuki flicks your shirt up, hungry eyes roaming your tits.
“Fucking greedy aren’t you?” You swat at his hand with a giggle.
He keeps his curious eyes on your hard nipples before letting them wander down, finding your swollen folds still leaking cum.
“You can really take a beating.”
He means it as a compliment.
Sitting up, you groan, stretching your back and rubbing at your sore spots.
“Maybe I should’ve gone to hero school instead, let myself be a paid punching bag.”
Katsuki scoffs, moving back so he can tuck himself into his pants and start to reassemble his gear. His phone is buzzing in his pocket, a notification about a break-in just a few streets away that shitty hair is going to go cover.
“I gotta get back to work. Give me your number.” He tosses his phone before you have a chance to react, the lock screen open as it bounces on your lap.
“What, so you can come save me again next time I’m stuck?”
Katsuki is serious when he looks at you, tightening the orange straps on his chest.
“So we can do this again sometime. Or, I dunno, I can take you on a fucking date if you want.”
You laugh and shrug, typing your name and number into his contacts.
“I’m off work tomorrow if you want to swing by, Dynamight.”
“Call me Katsuki, alright? And yeah, I’ll be by.”
You stand as he finishes making himself presentable, grenade gauntlets clicking back into place on his forearms. He grabs his phone from you and immediately texts you his name.
“Kiss me before you go?”
Your lashes are fluttering up at him, eyes sincere.
“God damn I did this all ass-backwards, didn’t I?” He scolds himself out loud, blowing hot air through his nose.
“You could’ve fucked me and left me,” you giggle, “next time we can catch up on everything we missed.”
He nods curtly, grabbing your face a bit too rough so he can crash his lips against yours. He’s brutal to prove a point, that he wants to kiss you, wants to do more than just take advantage of you. You respond in kind, nails scraping at his chest as you moan against him.
His phone rings again and he pulls away, sweaty palm musing through his hair as he stalks toward your front door.
“Tomorrow.”
He states it as a matter-of-fact. Tomorrow he will be back. Tomorrow he will fuck you again.
The summer air is more suffocating as he returns back to the streets, still resituating his costume and pulling at the crotch of his pants.
You’re fucking insane for letting him fuck you like that, but he’s worse for doing it.
Guilt builds on his shoulders as he stalks toward where he’s needed, only being relieved when he receives a text with your name on it.
1:45 a.m.: photo message
It’s a picture of your cunt, spread open by your fingers on your shitty little sofa. His cum still stains your folds, white is still dribbling out of your little hole.
He stops walking, stares down into the blue light of his screen as his mouth goes dry.
1:46 a.m.: photo message
Now it’s your tits, on full display below your shirt that you have pulled up between your teeth.
1:46 a.m.: I want your cock between them. Tomorrow.
Big thumbs type furiously, his brows locked together.
1:47 a.m.: You’re a fucking freak.
And so is he.
#bakugou smut#katsuki smut#tw:dubcon#tw:stuckage#bakugo smut#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bnha smut#bnha bakugou smut#katsuki bakugou#bakugou fanfic#katsuki fanfic#stuckage smut
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Tattoos
Tattoo artist!Geto x Reader
A/n: Idk ive been pretty depressed thinking about sad Gojo and Shoko since their best friend left so I wanted to make this as ‘fluffy/crack like’ in the beginning because I love their friendship. Also with so much tattoo artist geto out there I decided to make a fic! It was mainly inspired by this beautiful piece of work right I found but I forgot the account name 😭
Warning: College AU, tattoos, oral (fem receiving), public sex, fingering, squirting, begging, pet names
Synopsis: In which your friends convince you to get a tattoo.
Word count: 4.1k
“Come onnnn y/n get a tattoo with us”
Haibara pleads where incessant, even moving forward to clasp your hand in both of his and looking at you with wide eyes.
“Yeah it will be fun, your only young for a bit anyways, might as well do something impulsive” Said Shoko, shrugging as she took a swig of beer from one of the many bottles scattered across the floor you were all sitting on.
“I cant believe you out of all people are for this idea” You said as you looked at your room mate Shoko in disbelief.
“Well she's gonna die from lung cancer soon anyways, viva la vida.” Chuckled Gojo earning a potato chip to be thrown at him.
You weren't exactly the impulsive kind, and even though a decent amount of alcohol was pumping through your veins, the voice of reason in your head was still strong. You look down at your hand which was still in-between Haibara’s and pulled it away, shaking your head.
“Nope, no way.”
All three of your friends groan in unison.
“Aw come on y/n cant you squeeze out the stick up your ass just for a day?” Gojo whines and your about to go off on the man before Shoko speaks up
“Geto’s gonna be doing the tattoos, he said he’ll give us a discount.”
You pursed your lips and shot a death glare to your room mate. Damn, she knew your weak point all to well. Everyone and their fucking moms knew about your massive crush on a specific raven hair man in your friend group. And it wasn't like your affection was completely unreciprocated. Like how he’d give you his coat when you were cold, stay behind to talk to you while the rest of the group walked ahead, or even wink at you from across the room. But it never went pass that, teetering on the edge of something else but never quite making it.
The room was envolped in a silence as everyone intently stared at you, waiting for your response.
You let out a sigh and threw up your hands.
“For fucks sake, FINE! I’ll do it.”
“Lets gooooo!” Yelled Gojo, high-fiving haibara like they just fond the cure for cancer.
“But to make it clear, im not doing this because Getos gonna be there.”
“Oh yeah sureeeeee and Gojo opens up his ass cheeks to let the water in when he takes a shower.” Shoko rolls her eyes and leans over to grab a pack of cigarettes laying on the floor.
“The fuck does that mean? My ass is spanking clean for your information.”
“Not true, when ever you bend over I can smell the fumes wafting in my nose, I thought I was going to die once when you bent over to pick up a pencil.” Haibara pinches his nose and waves his hand, making Gojo lunge at him. You and Shoko were hunched over in laughter, desperately trying to catch your breath.
“LIES, IVE HAD MANY WOMEN TELL ME I HAVE A LOVLEY ASS”
~
The night air is cool against your skin, not so cold that its biting into you but instead immersing your warm body in refreshing waves. Despite it being night the cityscape was a constellation of LED lights and signs; lighting up the streets of Tokyo in a colorful array of hues.
“I bet Gojo will tap out first, right y/n?”
Your brought back to reality when Shoko links her arm up with yours and pulls you close while the four of you walk to the tattoo shop.
“Oh please im a god, im like the second coming of Jesus Christ for fucks sake I DONT FEEL MORTAL PAINNNNNNN!”Gojo yelled on the top of his voice into the night sky. Though there was few, the people walking past gave strange looks making you roll your eyes at Gojos intoxicated state.
“OH YEAH? Then take a poop in front of us!” Haribara demanded with just as much vigor to match Gojo’s proclamation.
“And turn that poop into wine!” You added through a loud grin.
“TURN THAT POOP INTO WINE TURN THAT POOP INTO WINE” You and Haribara chant on repeat, making Gojo flip the two of you off. Your so into it that you don’t even realize your at the shop and Haribara had stopped chanting.
“TURN THAT POOP INTO-……..oh.” Your face flushed a deep red when you felt all eyes on you and you harshly bit your lip.
“Yikes that’s embarrassing, for you.” Gojo snickered and you elbowed him in the side making him bend over dramatically in pain.
“Damn y’all dont know how to be quiet do you?”
You sucked in your breath when your eyes met the owner of the voice who stepped out from a curtain, and you couldn’t help but take in his appearance. Getos raven hair was tied in a messy bun, a singular lock of bangs falling over his eye brow piercing. He was wearing a black wife beater and black sweatpants, showing the multitude of traditional Japanese tattoos that covered his arms in a uniform sleeve. You could see how people mistook him for yakuza, his massive muscular body that towered over anyone with the added addition of tattoos made him look very menacing depending on how you took him.
He must’ve caught you staring because a shit eating grin spreads across his face.
“Hey y/n.”
“oh... hey?” You wave your hand at Geto, a stupid girlish grin on your face and in that moment you wanted to fucking punch your self from how absolutely dumb you sounded.
Getos attentions diverted to his side where two girls open the curtain and walked out. They were dressed in tight clothing, fabric hugging their curves and an intense amount of cleavage on display. It made you slightly concious of what you were wearing; a large grey sweatshirt and a short black skirt with black leggings. A pang of jealously courses through you but you quickly remind you self that they were obviously just clients.
“You two ladies are done, thank you for coming here.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break and come drink with us? It’s too late to be working any way.” One of the girl pouts and touches his forearm, but geto quickly steps away and responds with a bright smile.
“Sorry ladies but I got new clients at more door step, duty calls.”
The girls huff and walk away, the door ringing as they leave the store.
“God damn maybe I should become a tattoo artist.” Gojo mumbles just loud enough so you could all hear and you roll your eyes.
“Don’t you get enough chicks?” Shoke moved to reach into her pocket to light the cigarette that dangled in between her lips.
“Nope. Never enough bitches.”
“Man whore” Haribara says in between a loud cough.
While the three of them shot remarks at each other you took the time to fully take in the studio. It was relatively big, with different parts along the side being sectioned off by curtains. The walls were plastered with rock posters and tattoo designs ranging from eccentric skulls too beutiful realism of geishas. The room smelled of intense cigarette smoke and weed, and loud music played from a speaker located somewhere.
A lamenated binder that sat on top of the glass counter caught your eye and you walk toward it, flipping through the content which were numerous amounts of tattoo designs.
“You see any you like?”
You slightly jump at Getos voice and look up to see he was leaning over the counter, face inches away from yours.
“I-uh, I don’t know, I want something simple probably, I’m no good with pain.” You stutter out.
“How about this then.” Geto points to something in the book and your eyes follow your his finger. It’s a small cherry blossom branch, the flowers are colored in a pastel pink and the lines are relatively thin.
“Oh wow yeah” you nod “that’s perfect.”
“Great, where do you want it?”
“Where’s the least painful place?”
“The ass” Geto deadpans and you choke.
“Seriously?”
“Nah I’m fucking with you, as much fun as that would be for me though.” Getos lazy grin has your brain running laps and you genuinely don’t know if he is joking or not about the last part. “In all seriousness I recommend the thigh, it’s easy to cover and all the fat surrounding the muscle makes it relatively painless.”
You nod, taking a second to contimplate before responding. “Ok then, thigh it is.”
Getos grin widens and you think you catch something glimmer in his black fox eyes, like he just caught you in a trap or something.
“Great, come with me.” Geto walks out of the counter and beckons you to follow him into the curtained room, but before you do a voice stops you both.
“Hey what about us?” Gojo yells while holding a struggling Haribara in a head lock.
“Sukuna and todou can take care of you guys, they should be almost done.” Geto gestures to the other curtains.
“You mean the Yujis brother with the face tats? Oh HELL NO he hates me! He keeps challenging me to a fight!”
“I’d be happy to do Satorus tattoo.” Says a deep voice that emerged from the curtains. You had seen Sukuna a couple times, and of course heard Gojo complain about him too. He was a big guy, similar build to Geto with interesting black tattoos along his forehead jawline and face. There where rumors that they weren’t actually tattoos but instead birth marks and you didn’t doubt that, something about them seemed too natural.
“Great, come on y/n” Geto hovers his hand over the small of your back, slightly pushing you past the curtains and into the room.
In front of you was a long black tattoo chair with enough room to put up your legs and a smaller chair on the side which was surly were the tattoo artist sat. Next to that chair was a small table which held the tattoo gun and an array of ink bottles.
“You can strip for me angel.” Geto said non chalantly.
“W-What?” You whipped around to face him, face engulfed in a flush red at the suggestion.
“You know, take off your leggings, can’t do the tattoo over clothes. I’m gonna print out the stencil while you do that, give you some privacy.”
Your mouth formed to shape a silent “oh” and you nodded, your embarrassment somehow doubled now.
“I’ll be back in a sec lemme just print out the stencil. I’ll give you some privacy”
You nod and as you watch him open the curtain to leave your ears perk up when you hear Geto mumble something barley loud enough for you to hear.
“Dirty girl.”
It takes a couple seconds to register what you just heard or if you even heard right, and before you could say something Getos already gone, leaving you completely speechless.
~
“You ready y/n? Can I come in?”
Your bit your lip before responding, fiddling with the edge of your black skirt. There was a reason why you wore leggings under your skirt, what made you regret choosing the tattoo on your thigh. Because your skirt was short, really short. It barley covered the pastel pink panties you were wearing and if you looked from behind you could just see the crease from where the fat of your ass hung over your thigh.
“Yeah you can come in Geto.”
You watched as the curtain parted and Geto walked in, holding a piece of transfer paper with your design. He glances at you, quickly looking up and down before situating him self on the stool next to the tattoo chair.
“You can sit down.” Geto gestures to the seat.
There's a slight pang in your heart from how he barley pays any mind to you, like your panties weren't basically on display. But you quickly dismiss it.
Right he probably sees stuff like this everyday. He’s a professional, not someone who’d drool over you.
You scurry over to the chair, sitting so half of your body is laying flat while your upper body sat up right, head resting against the cushion. You let out a small squeal when you felt a cold cotton ball of alcohol run over your skin, and you watched as Geto laid the stencil on your upper thigh, peeling it off to reveal the design. The next couple moments of him preparing the tattoo gun pass by in a blur and you can feel your chest tighten up from the barrels of adrenaline that were currently building up through your body with every passing moment.
“You ready y/n?”
You feel a gloved hand on your thigh and you look up to see Geto staring at you intently, waiting for your answer.
You gulp and nod. “Yeah just... dont fuck this up, or I'll kill you.” A strangled chuckle escapes your lips to mask your shaking nerves.
“Dont worry sweet heart” A reassuring grin spreads across Getos lips “im quite good at my job.”
Your stupid ‘Geto-obsessed’ brain is too hung up on the pet name he just called you to register the buzz of the tattoo machine until you feel a slightly painful prickling sensation on your thigh.
“Oh, shi-” You immediately bite your lip to contain your squeal making Geto chuckle, his eyes continuing to stay trained on your skin.
“Not good with pain are we?”
“Depends on the situation.” You quickly retort, mind reeling when you realize the implications of what you just said.
“Oh? Is that so. Well dont worry, if it hurts too much after, I’ll kiss it better.” A smirk spreads across Getos features and his thumb on the hand that's holding your thigh starts to stroke your skin, making something sickly sweet pool in your stomach.
Oh no.
Your mind immediately goes blank when you feel something warm excrete from your pussy.
Were you getting off too this?
With the way your skirt was hiked up, you were praying that Geto couldnt see the small damp spot on your underwear, especially since the position he was in would make it extremely easy too.
“Almost done, just have to do the color. Hang in there ok?”
You nod, your brain trying to find something to distract you from the feeling in your core and the tiny bee stings on your thigh.
Your eyes land on the person in front of you, and its then you choose to take in Geto, like really take in geto. How his thin eye brows furrow from concentration or the way his fox like eyes remain trained on you, even to his black hair which was tied in a loose bun. Its then you realize just how utterly handsome Geto is. Sure you’ve been around handsome men before, as much you hate to admit it Gojo is a prime example. But there is something different about Geto that sets him apart from men like Gojo, like how his sharp features gives an air of mystery around him. Something that you cant quite put your finger on but what Geto exudes.
“I can feel you staring you know.”
Your eyes immediately go wide and you quickly look away, your face flushed from embarrassment.
“Ah sorry.” You mumble. Maybe you should keep a count of how many time you could embarrass your self in one day, that would be fun.
“Nah, dont be.”
There's a silence, the buzz of the tattoo gun emanating through the room before Geto speaks up again.
“So what did you think?”
“Of what?”
“Me.”
You check Getos features to see if there is any hint of a joke or playfulness but his face remains concentrated on your skin.
“Oh well uh,” You clear your throat, racking your brain for what would be the best answer to satisfy the man in front of you. “Well your very.... pretty.”
Geto lets out a sudden laugh “Really? I though I was the handsome one and Gojo was the pretty one. Besides that's what im supposed to say to you pretty girl.”
“You treat all your costumers like this?” You say with hesitance, apprehensive to what the answer might be.
“Nah, only the ones I find cute.”
Your mouth is moving too fast for your brain at this point.
“And are there a lot of those?”
Geto grins, sets the tattoo gun down and finally looks up at you, making your heart practically stop.
“Just you right now pretty girl. And im done by the way.”
There's a silence, just the two of you looking at each other, waiting for the others next move.
Screw it.
“It hurts too much.”
“Oh? It does?” His voice is dripping with playfulness and he sits up, taking his black rubber gloves off but not once breaking eye contact with you.
“A-a-and you said-” The shakiness in your voice surprises you, but Geto quickly cuts you off saving you the embarrassment of repeating his words.
“I know what I said angel.”
“So please-”
He's towering over you now, putting his hand under your face to slightly tilt it upward.
“On it.”
Before you can form a thought, a pair of warm lips immediately clash with yours a fit of passion. His first taste of you is hungry and messy and desperate — his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Little whines escape your mouth but Geto hungrily swallows them up, a hand coming behind your head to press you closer. You are so eager to abide by him, lapping at his tongue with yours and tracing over his straight teeth.
“W-w-we should go Geto” You say in between breaths before being pulled back into a brain melting kiss. You jump when you feel two fingers tracing over your panties and your once again reminded of the sticky substance dripping out of you.
“Not when we haven't taken care of your problem yet, cant leave you high and dry baby.” Geto smiles at how you weakly nod, knowing the exact words to say to make you puddy in his hands. Slowly he pushed you till your legs are dangling at the edge of the tattoo chair. Then he kneels on the floor, pulling down your frilly pink panties and hoisting your legs over his shoulder so he is face to face with your cunt. Getos hot breath against you makes you shiver and when you realize just exactly where you are, how just a measly curtain is preventing all of your friends from seeing you in this compromising position, you try to shimmy away, but Getos strong hands on your legs glue you in place.
“Geto I-”
“Shhhh baby ill be quick I promise, just stay quiet ok?”
And your about to respond when you feel Getos warm tongue flatten against your clit and swipe up, making you slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. He eats out your pussy like a staved man, tongue licking over every crevice and suckling greedily on your clit. He sinks his thumbs into your cunt and spreads, watch your folds drip with slick and your hole tighten before his eyes before diving right back in. Two fingers easily glide knuckles deep into your hole and curling deliciously to tap against your g spot.
You immediately clamped down around his fingers due to the sudden intrusion. Your hips trying to get away from the surge of pleasure.
"Ah ah ah. Don't run away." He whispers, a sadistic grin plaster on Getos face.”Be a good girl and take it.” A hand flies down to hold his arm but it was hardly to pull him away, no this was just you needing to feel any part of him under your fingers. Geto grins as he returns to delicately sucking your clit and rolling the bud with his tongue while two fingers bully into you.
Soon a new type of feeling presses down on you, completely different from all the times you’ve touched your self. It has your body tickling with tingles of ecstasy like every energy core in your body was suddenly ignited.
“Mmm f-feels weird Geto I dont-” You quietly try to warn the man in between you but a particularly harsh thrust of his fingers into you as you harshly biting your lip to quiet your moans.
“You gonna cum baby? Cum for me.”
Your feet are kicking against Getos back as you try to fight the rising tide, the deep-seated dismay that comes with the very thought of him making you cum when your friends where so close making your stomach twist.
Soon the tension pressing against your core is too much, it has your writhing against Getos tongue until you finally fall, releasing a spray of liquid all over Getos face. He continues to lap up your juices, groaning into your pussy and mumbling something about how good you taste.
When he finally pulls away, your left panting, a silver line of drool slipping past your lips and onto the leather chair. Your too lost in the after haze of your intense orgasm to realize that Geto had started to pull down his sweat pants until your eyes catch his dick spring out.
Its large, really large, your imagination doing no justice to it at all, winning in both girth in length the word impressive barley covered it.
“Ah n-no we cant you said...” You protest meekly but Geto quickly cuts you off by pressing the mushroom tip against your fluttering cunny.
“I know what I said angel, but you look so pretty right now, just cant help my self.” He lets out a deep groan when he slips into your tight hole down to his balls, and your whole body jumping at the feeling of being so helplessly full.
“G-geto~!”
Every vein on his cock dragged against your velvety walls, catching on your entrance as he pulled back before thrusting back in. his thrusts were deep, the tip of his cock reaching spots you could only dream of hitting with your fingers. His eyes caught how good you take him - the fat of his head have a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being
"You are really .. a piece of work." There were veins popping on his temple as his cynical grin broaden before he pinned your body on top of the long chair and thrusting into you. Its all so overwhelming, the heat of his body, how the tip of his dick presses deliciously against your cervix of his breath in your ear. It has you a moaning mess, whining loudly about how good you felt, your worries of people catching the two of you becoming fleeting thoughts. Every time you tighten a surge of pleasure courses through your body.
“f-fuck– that’s fucking good.” he says between grunts. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N, my perfect good girl,”
“So good- don’t stop, please don’t stop!” your babbling strung out of your lips without much of a thought other than how good he was fucking you, his thick cock driving in and out of your velvet walls. It was as if you were made for each other, your cunt sucking him in with each push and shove that hit at just the right spots.
“Not gonna stop till I fill you up-fuck, cum for me baby I know your close”
The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Geto muffles your screams with a kiss, your pussy tightening so hard around him that he nearly has to stop his thrusts.
“M’want your cum p-please.” You say as you pull back from the kiss, electing a loud groan from Geto.
“Fuck s-sweet heart.”
Your words make him chase his high with with renewed vigor until he feels his own release approach on him. His thrusts became sloppy, his hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flush against your pussy. His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him. Geto cums in you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach.
“Fuck,” you pant, needily searching for his mouth with yours, letting yourself melt against his body as you kiss him lazily, your tongue sleepily twining with his.
“HEY YOU TWO DONE BONING IN THERE? CAN WE LEAVE?” Gojos voice yells from the over side of the curtain making you and Geto groan.
A/n: Im too lazy to write an ending
#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk x reader#geto smut#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk smut#geto suguru#getou suguru x reader#toji x reader#toji smut
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Don’t act like a fucking brat
Chris Evans x reader
Summary: After a horrible day, you came home utterly frustrated and made the big mistake to take it out on Chris. Luckily Chris has an idea to put you back in your place since you needed to learn some manners.
Warnings: minors DNI SMUT, frustration sex, yelling, verbal fight, pushing against the wall (sexual), ripping clothes, rough sex, blowjob, deepthroat, controlled orgasms, daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex ( be smarter than that), squirting, eating you out, P in V, fingering, bratty behavior, little bit of humiliation, Sub and Dom dynamic, pet names, Mocking, creampie and overstimulation, smacking on the ass, slight chocking, gagging and i think that that was all😅🤣
Words: 3,5K
A/N: This is with consent from the reader if it wasn’t clear.
Don’t act like a fucking brat
You were absolutely frustrated to the bone. Everyone was pissing you off today and it seemed to be no end in sight with it as well. Your colleague who has a very obvious crush on you, just wouldn’t leave you alone and today was the day you actually had no chill anymore what so ever. You couldn’t wait to go home.
Chris, your boyfriend was at home and already knew you were having a horrible day, through text messages. You never really had a fight together or that you would let the frustration out on the other but today would change that.
You were so done with everyone and everything that it actually would be better if you were alone so nobody would push your buttons any more than already had been done. You let out a loud sigh and tried to gather yourself before greeting Chris. You hoped that once you would step into your loving home that the frustration would leave but that was everything but the truth. Your phone went off and it was your colleague who had that crush to ask you if everything was okay. He meant well, you knew that but he was way too much in your space and just wouldn’t leave you alone even though he knew that your boyfriend was the Chris Evans.
You felt your blood boil inside and tried to take deep breaths before stepping into the living room but Chris already came in the hallway. “Hey sweetheart, how are you?” he asked you happily. Normally his happiness was contagious but this was not that day and it actually pissed you off. This day was just all too much.
“Fine. Just leave me be, please.” You told him coldly and walked past him without giving him a kiss or anything. Chris frowned and definitely did not like your attitude right now. “What’s going on honey? Talk to me.” He tried again but that just pushed you even further. “Chris, I told you I am fine. Just very pissed off from the shittiest day ever. Can you just please leave me alone for now like I asked you?” You raised your voice. You weren’t proud of it, but you couldn’t hold back. Well actually this was the most that you held back.
Chris took a deep breath in order not to snap back and stayed silent for a moment, thinking on how to approach this because he never seen you like this and normally when you were pissed you wanted to talk about and cuddle with him. So he walked up to you, thinking you might wanted a hug. You stood with your back to him as he walked up to you and carefully touched your arms as he rubbed them softly.
You took a deep breath and turned around. “Chris… I asked you to leave me alone, how tough is that?” you spat out at him as you placed your glass hardly on the counter. You were furious and Chris saw it. His face fell “I’m sorry, I thought…” you cut him off “Thought what Chris? Jesus Christ, why can’t anyone leave me the Fuck alone?” You raised your voice again and this time Chris was just done with your behavior.
“Okay, I get that you had a very bad day but stop being a fucking brat!” he yelled back, his face furious as well now. You shook your head “Whatever.” You wanted to walk away but there was a tension in the air. A sexual tension to be exact. Chris grabbed your arm. Not too hard to hurt you but enough to make you have a lump in your throat as he placed you against the wall. “You know I can’t stand that bratty behavior and don’t you fucking dare to react it out on me Y/N” he spat at you while his face was close to yours as the sexual tension grew more.
“It’s not my problem that you can’t listen.” You told him with a smirk, knowing where this was heading to. You both needed to blow off some real good steam. Chris let out a dark chuckle. His arms besides your head, giving you no way out. “Don’t make me show you what I do with bratty girls Y/N” he told you darkly, making you chuckle. “Or what…?” You told him, pushing his buttons. “You’re feeling brave? Is that it?” he told you with a dark smirk.
You both stared at each other. You didn’t want to give into submission, absolutely not. Chris grabbed your chin between his fingers. “Is this how it’s going to be? Because you’re going to be sorry for that. Apparently you need to learn some manners since you miss a couple.” He whispered darkly at you, sending chills all over your body.
Chris crushed his lips on yours. There was no passion or love in this kiss, only lust. He quickly dominated the kiss while his hand went around your throat, pushing you against the wall, not too hard but enough to make you listen. His other hand ripped your blouse apart, buttons falling on the floor. You gasped into the kiss from shock yet excitement. Once the blouse was lose, he went with his hand into your pants straight ahead.
You were so wet from all the pant up frustration and the tension that was flowing through the air. You felt his finger on your slit, going up and down for a minute, teasing you. “Chris, please..” you begged. He got out of the kiss and looked at you darkly. “I warned you and you didn’t listen so now you’re going to pay the price and don’t have a say in it. You had your chances.” You looked at him with big eyes and gulped as your body trembled with fright and excitement. “You better do what I ask you before I don’t let you cum at all today….” He told you as his lips were pressed against your cheek. “Do we understand each other?” he had a grin on his face, almost like he enjoyed this a little too much. You nodded quick “Yes.” Your voice was small with a tremble in it, giving you away.
His hand was still around your throat, making sure you weren’t going anywhere while his other hand was in your pants. You looked at Chris and met his eyes immediately. His pupils were blown and the small smirk on his face, hinting that he was enjoying himself. He never looked away, making you feel extremely intimidating and submissive. You felt his finger slipping in and you gasped. “Oh baby, you’re so wet and pant up, aren't you?” His fingers were moving tortuously slow and your legs already started to tremble.
He placed his own leg between yours and pushed you more against the wall so you lost control of any movement, which you really wanted at this point. “You really have no idea what you’ve done baby girl. Being all bratty and shit and look at you know… Already a mess for daddy and I haven’t even done anything yet.” The smirk on his lips getting bigger by the moment. Your lips parted and only a gasp was heard, lost for words and only focusing on Chris.
His thumb found your clit and he slowly, torturously circled it. Your hand found his chest and the other palmed his cock through his pants until he swatted your hands away. “Did I tell you that you could touch me?” He spit out, making you whimper. He kept circling your clit with his thumb while leaving you hickeys on your neck. You started to feel the euphoric feeling panting up in the pit of your stomach. Your breathing becoming more rapid and it felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest. You were so extreme close to an orgasm until Chris got his hand out of your pants.
You looked at him, eyes big and mouth agape in surprise. “You don’t get to cum yet. You weren’t a good girl and now you’re going to pay the price, princess.” He told you with a smirk as he knew this was just torturous. He turned you around and pushed you against the wall, your hands catching you. Chris gave your ass a big smack and you whimpered, not trying to make too much sound at this point. His hands ripping your jeans apart as if it was paper. You looked back in shock “Chris!” you raised your voice, which was a mistake. His hand wrapped around your throat again and pushed it back towards his own face. “I’ll get you new ones, worry about what I’m going to do to you.” Words failed you once again and you could only focus on Chris.
You heard his belt loosen up and just by the sound of it, excitement flew over your body again and automatically you pushed your ass a little more towards Chris before you felt another stinging and burning sensation on your butt cheek followed by a loud smack. You heard the zipper from his own jeans and could only imagine what was about to happen right now, followed up by the sound of fumbling.
His finger found your slit again and growled as you just started to drip on his fingers. You felt the tip, of what you presumed was his cock against your slit. Without a warning he entered you and immediately picked up a quick pace. You had no time to get adjust to his size while he bottomed you out. Your throat felt dry, trying to suppress the moans that started to bubble up. You felt his skin slapping against yours in a fast forceful pace, his hand still around your throat and your legs trembling even more while you heard Chris pant against your ear and feeling him pound in and out of you.
Once again you started to feel excitement in your stomach. Chris noticed since you started to clench around his cock, making him moan even louder. Just when you were about to cum he got out of you, making you whimper again and tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.
“Get the fuck upstairs, I’m not going to ask you again.” He growled in your ear and smacked your ass again. You did as he asked you, afraid to look behind. It felt dangerous yet so excited at the same time. You were so locked up in your own head that you were in the bedroom in no time. “Get undressed but keep your lingerie on.” He told you stern. You turned around hesitant and you saw him leaning against the door. You got your blouse off and your ripped jeans.
You felt so intimidated and small that you placed your arms a little in front of your body. “Good girl, you see? It’s not so hard to just listen.” He told you as he swayed his way dangerously slow your way. “Get on your knees.” You did as he asked you without thinking about it. Chris got out of his clothes and you saw how rock hard his cock was with the tip aggressive red. He bowed down to your eye level with a smirk on his face again “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours that talked so foul to me. If you do a good job, I might let you cum.” Your chin between his fingers in a tight lock.
He placed the tip against your lips and you slowly opened your mouth. “You better get to work now baby girl, I don’t have all day.” He told you almost in a mocking tone. You carefully grabbed his cock in your soft hand and slowly started to pump him while your tongue licked his shaft and balls. You could hear him growl above you. You circled your tongue on the tip before you slowly took his cock in your mouth before gagging around it, earning a loud groan from him. You started to suck him off, your hand massaging his balls. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed you more against him so you had to take his cock in more, gagging in reaction.
The tears fell onto your cheek and your hands were on his thighs. He made you take his entire cock into your mouth and throat before letting you breath and repeated the process after that, forcing you to go faster after each breath. After a while he showed you some mercy and looked at you while you started to cough. “Good girl. Get on all fours on the bed now.” he directed you.
You quickly stood up on your feet and got on all fours. You heard and felt another smack on your ass making you whimper again. You felt the bed dip behind you and a hand on your back before he entered you rough again. You gasped at the full feeling and the roughness it was done with. His fingers dug into your skin on your waist as he pulled his cock out and pushed it back in before setting up a good pace. You started to loose energy in your legs, trembling again.
Chris pushed you down on the bed with your ass up in the air. He got your arms and placed them behind your back before pounding into you again. You heard him growl and moan behind you. You felt the euphoric feeling once again, clenching your pussy on his cock again. You felt him getting out of you and that was when you started to beg. You wanted and needed that release so bad that you would do anything for it right now.
“Please, please daddy, please let me cum. I swear I’ll be a good girl, I’m so sorry but please let me cum on your cock.” You begged, tears falling on your cheeks. He got you up with your back against his chest and his hand around your throat again. “Yeah? Are you really that sorry?” he started to mock you, wanted you to beg more. “Yes, please, please I’m really sorry! Please can I cum?” You heard him chuckle darkly behind you and felt him enter you again. “Alright then, make yourself cum on daddy’s cock than.” He told you with a smug smile on his face, having you exactly how he wanted you.
You started to back up on his cock but it wasn’t easy since he was behind you and still holding you up by your neck, against his chest. You heard him chuckle deeply and you couldn’t suppress the sob that came out of your throat. “Ah baby girl, are you crying? Do you need it so bad?” he was so calm and collected while he placed a soft feathery kiss on your ear.
You nodded and more sobs came out of your mouth from the pant up frustration. He got out of you and laid down on his back. “Come on than, come ride daddy, make yourself cum for me princess.” You quickly climbed up and got his cock, putting it in. Chris put his arm behind his head, enjoying this too much. You started to ride him quickly while Chris just looked at you with a smirk on his face, not doing anything and just let you use him. “Cum on my dick sweetheart. You want to be a good girl right? Then cum on my cock.” He told you.
You weren’t far behind on your orgasm. You picked up the pace and started moving back and forth, hitting your spot immediately, making you cry out loud as you came hard. You couldn’t even move and your pussy had his cock in a strong hold. You could hear him growl at the feeling. He didn’t give you time to come back from your orgasm, since you were still in it. He started moving you again, his fingers in your skin and with his other hand, rubbing your clit with his thumb. You started to cry out more and clenched even harder around him. You heard him moan loudly through the buzzing in your ears from the powerful orgasm. His thumb just rubbing it right and you came again, creaming all over his cock.
He pushed you off of him while you were still in your orgasm. All your muscles tensing up. You felt your legs being opened and two strong arms around your stomach and parting your legs. A hot breath connecting with your slit and before you could come down from your orgasm again, you could feel Chris eating you out completely. No teasing or slow beginning, he just dug in like a man who hadn’t eaten in days. Your legs started to shake uncontrollably, more tears falling on your cheek from the intense feeling.
You were close to your third orgasm. Chris put two fingers in your pussy and took them in and out while licking and sucking on your clit. You felt just a little more than only that euphoric feeling and tried to hold it back. “Come on baby, you wanted to be a good girl for daddy right? Then let go and cum on my face.” he told you before eating you out again. The wet sounds that your pussy and his mouth made got you even closer to the edge. The feeling of his warm breath while panted out and the feeling of his tongue and fingers got you completely over the edge. You started to squirt while Chris kept you fingering through the orgasm.
He came back to your face, still intimidating “Good girl” His voice still dark and rough. He parted your legs again and entered you without breaking eye contact with you. “I’m going to make you mine and cum into that pussy of yours.” He told you as he slowly moved. All of your senses were on high alert right now and the soft strokes he gave you got you over the edge again. “Can I cum again daddy? Please can I cum again?” You begged Chris.
“No princess, you hold it. You can only cum when I cum. Is that clear?” Tears falling over your cheek again and he brushed them away with his thumb while picking up the pace again, making you cry out even more. “I can’t hold it any longer daddy please cum in me, please cum in me.” you begged and cried out. “Not yet baby girl.” He told you almost teasingly while his thumb found your clit again and rubbed it. You were completely sobbing right now as you tried to hold your orgasm with everything you had.
Chris knew this was just torture for you and kept pounding into you, giving your pussy a slap and got another cry from you before rubbing your clit again. “Okay baby, I’m gonna cum. Milk daddy out baby girl.” You didn’t need to hear more as you let go of the euphoric feeling, clenching around his cock like never before, earning a loud groan and moan from Chris. You both had a long orgasm as you kept milking him out and this time felt Chris shake from your and his own orgasm.
Chris collapsed on you while you both tried to catch your breath again. You couldn’t comprehend what just had happened, feeling dumb and mushy. It was silent in the room, only the panting of the two of you was heard. You didn’t know what to tell him. “Chris…. I’m really sorry about how I acted. I should never have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.” He looked up at you, his eyes looking soft and gentle at you and it played on your heart strings.
“it’s okay now sweetheart. I think you’ve learned your lesson now, don’t you?” he told you chuckling a little. “Well, maybe I should take it out on you in that case…” you told him and his dark eyes came back. “Don’t start something you can’t finish sweetheart. I was very generous today. Next time you don’t cum at all.” goosebumps started to rise on your skin while you looked at him.
“Next time you just can ask for a good fuck.” He told you, making you chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds like a better idea. Still, sorry for how I acted, I wasn’t myself.” Chris’s eyes got softer and placed his lips gently on yours. “I know baby. I know. You tell me what happened when you want to okay?” You nodded “Can we just cuddle for now?” He smiled softly at you. “Of course we can baby girl.”
Taglist: @patzammit @rogersdrysdalebarber @justile
#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fanfic#chris evans fic#chris evans x reader#chris evans story#chris evans fluff#chris evans angst#chris evans x female#chris evans xreader#chris evans x you#chris evans x original female character#chris evans ofc#chris evans x ofc#chris evans x female reader#chris evans x smut#chris evans smut#chris evans x fluff#chris evans x angst#chris evans imagines#chris evans imagine#smut fanfiction#smut#chris evans is daddy#chris evans one shot#chris evans oneshot#chris evans stories
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bliss
summary: you get high with eren.
content: black coded !reader. f!reader. suggestive themes. kissing. cursing. eren being eren.
word count: 800
universe: college!au
notes: i’ve smoked more these past 2 weeks than i have in my entire LIFE. literally rolling rn so i was like … lemme write something w my favorite boy <3 based off of this tik tok. also, I'm listening to guilty pleasure by henry verus on spotify, highly recommend.
tag list application form - PLEASE REBLOG - REQUESTS ARE OPEN - send thirsts + thoughts abt ur fav aot boys and I'll respond w a blurb!!
you honestly had no idea how your boyfriend managed to make the dean's list every semester with how much he loved to smoke. between classes, to go to sleep, hell he was probably the biggest advocator of wake and bake to ever exist.
as you sat next to sasha on one of the couches in eren, jean and armin's designated smoke room, it didn't even surprise you when the first thing eren said when entering the room was, "who wanna smoke?"
of course, everyone said yes, you were all guilty of being unashamed stoners. because everyone had decided to show out tonight, eren instructed connie and armin to start rolling blunts of their own so that there was enough to go around and get everyone sufficiently fucked outta their minds.
if there was one thing about eren, it was that he rolled the fattest blunts you had ever seen. it sucked when it was just the two of you and he made you finish them off. he always made sure to take care of you though, doing as many snack runs as possible and being a vacuum to all of your extra energy, or lack thereof.
"c’mere baby." eren said when he pulled out his grinder. in all honestly, you had no idea how to roll and never paid enough attention whenever eren did it to learn, you always had him to do if for you. even before you met him, your pretty little doe eyes managed to get you free weed all the time.
"yeah, go leave me for your man or whatever, i see how it is." sasha said when you got up. you made a face before turning to eren, crossing the room to stand between his legs.
"you couldn’t talk to me from three seats down?" you asked as you placed your hands on his knees, pouting because he interrupted your conversation. eren rolled his eyes and shook his head, moving the dish he had put between his legs to keep everything steady on his right knee.
"just wanted to here is all. but by all means, go back to sasha if my company is so bothersome," he said with a smirk. it was your turn to roll your eyes. you stood there for a while, watching as he began to pack the paper.
"sit down," he said. you quirked your eyebrow.
"where?" you replied, noticing the lack of space on either side of him because of his proximity to reiner and annie.
"where else," he said, tapping his leg with his free hand.
you always jumped at the opportunity to sit on your man's lap, so of course, you plopped your cute ass self onto his awaiting thigh. he smiled to himself when he felt you wrap your arms around his shoulder, squirming a bit to get yourself nice and comfortable.
"right where you're supposed to be," he said, tearing himself away from his blunt to give you a quick kiss.
"how do you do that?" you asked after a few seconds.
"do what?"
"roll. i wanna learn." eren chuckled, bringing the paper to his lips to lick the seal.
"you don't gotta worry about that baby. all you gotta do is look nice and pretty on my lap when i roll for you. i gotchu."
jesus christ, his words went straight to your pussy. he knew it too if his evil ass smirk meant anything.
"don't look at me like that," you said. his smile only widened.
"like what?" he asked, his lips leaning up to give your ear a cluster of small delicate kisses.
"yo jaeger, stop fucking your girl for like two seconds and give me your lighter." jean called from across the room. without taking his eyes off of you eren brought his lighter out of his pocket and placed the blunt between his lips. he lit it quickly, then threw it to jean to shut him up.
your hands tightened around his shirt when he took a deep hit, tilting his head back on the couch to not blow the smoke out in your face. he took a few more hits before passing the blunt to you, prompting you to do the same. his fingers played with the fat of your thighs as you blew the smoke out, coughing a bit when it came up through your throat. he chuckled, watching as you passed to annie.
"fuck you and your fatass blunts man. you tryna kill me or something?" he let out a deep laugh, his other hand moving to rub your ankle.
"nah, you're just weak."
"no, you just roll like a maniac."
"whatever you say baby." he said with a smile, leaning in to give you another kiss. you smiled into it, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.
"you're so good to me," you said, your eyes finding his beautiful green ones.
"only giving you what you deserve baby," he muttered, moving his head to the side to kiss your fingers. he was always very affectionate and touchy with you. but who were you to complain?
he knew just what to do to make you heat up inside.
tags / @keithandlevi-ontheroof @shunkaza @marcoswhore @jeanreinersex @kailuvsme @sailewhoremoon
elles thoughts - i want this man so bad it isn't even funny. ugh. that's my mfing man yall like fr fr, we getting married.
#eren jeager x reader#eren yaeger x reader#eren x reader#eren x black reader#eren x you#eren yaeger x you#eren jeager x you#eren headcanons#aot fluff#aot smut#attack on titan fluff#attack on titan#eren jeager#f4irycafeblurbs📇#eren cafe <3#aot x reader#eren fluff#eren smut#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger fluff
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Bind
Pairing: Frank Castle x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 1200 words
Outline: You don't feel like playing nice tonight but Frank knows how to work you just right.
Warnings: choking, belt kink, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, overstimulation, rough sex, penetrative unprotected sex, degradation, praise, brat taming, spanking, slight dacryphilia, creampie, not beta'ed. all mistakes are my own, if I didn't tag something pls let me know!
Author’s Note: I wanted to try something with a belt kink for a while now, could say is a follow-up to Tactical. As always many thanks to the fairy thotmother @wint3r-h3art
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics // banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・Frank Castle Masterlist
NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.
"Are you going to play nice?"
You whimper and take a deep breath adjusting yourself on the bed. You had long chosen today that you would not in fact play nice.
"Daddy needs you to use your words, sweetheart, come on."
You pout and wiggle under his touch.
"No."
You say loud and clear when a mischievous grin appears on your face. Frank lets go of your hands and rise up adjusting himself. He slowly unbuckles himself and begins to remove his belt. Your eyes light up at the prospect. Frank was surprised when he found out how much into pain and torture you were.
"You wanna piss daddy off, little girl?"
You only giggle rubbing your legs together slowly while pouting at him. Frank takes a deep breath and brings the belt between the palms of his hands.
"Turn around, hold on to the sheets, come on."
Excitedly you position yourself on all fours on the bed arching your back and holding on to the sheets wiggling your ass towards him. Frank takes a moment to admire you like that before running his finger over your ass line and pussy lips. You had only just started getting wet. He chuckles and shakes his head. God, you were such a good little pet.
"Count."
He instructs you and then lands a harsh whip with the belt across your ass cheeks. You wail out in pain shaking your head, feeling the heat moving through each cell of your body. Again, you wouldn’t play nice today.
"Harder, daddy!"
You yell out, not wanting to follow his commands for now. Frank rolls his eyes and lands another harsh whip on your ass making you cry out harder than before.
"Count or I am not finishing with you tonight."
He warns you wearing a strict expression on his face.
"No, daddy!" You cry out and whimper turning your head to look at him in disbelief, remembering that time a month ago, he locked himself in the bathroom wanking just to make you hear it.
"That was the second one. I counted, daddy."
You smile sweetly at him and wiggle your ass, a red line already visible.
"I can't wait to have your big fat cock fucking me stupid, dripping inside me. I want you to cover me in your cum daddy."
You were extremely talkative during the act which had surprised Frank at first considering how much you don't seem to like talking outside of it. He licks his lips together as he is feeling his cock getting harder. He is stroking his beard while he is looking at you weighing his options.
"Daddy wants to fuck me stupid, leave me all red and full. I don't want to walk tomorrow, daddy. I know you do, I can see it."
You continue batting your eyelashes at him, ass up in the air, ready for him, juices dripping down your thighs.
"I know your cock is hard, daddy, I know you want to bury it inside my pussy and have your way with me."
Frank looks at you when your pussy is clenching on nothing in your own words.
"You are such a fucking whore, Y/N. Jesus Christ."
Frank takes a step closer to the bed and climbs on it.
"Yes, daddy, fuck me hard, please!"
You excitedly proclaim bucking your ass to him.
Frank has a different idea though. He takes the belt and wraps it around your neck pushing it back to him, choking you.
"You talk far too much, princess. Daddy likes it when you shut up."
You try to whimper but the belt has you on a good chokehold while you feel him lining up his cock to your entrance. He slowly pushes the tip inside, the large head already filling you up so well. The next thing you hear is him taking off his shirt and throwing it next to your head. He pushes back the belt again as you try to hold on to the bedframe desperately and he pushes the rest of his fat cock inside your pussy stretching you out. You can feel your insides burning, your vision getting hazy. Frank lets himself go and starts thrusting onto you roughly, moving you on his cock while you are trying to buck your ass to him.
"You like that? Daddy fucking you like the stupid whore you are?"
His words only made you wetter, you loved being used like this. He is thrusting inside you hard. Then he is loosening his grip on your neck with the belt throwing it on the floor and slipping out of you to flip you around. Frank grabs your wrists and pins them above your head and shoves his cock inside your pussy again. He continues just as rough shaking the whole bed underneath you while you are both groaning loud. Sounds like a noise complaint waiting to happen.
The bed is getting shoved against the wall, while Frank's thighs bury you deeper inside the mattress. Small silver tears are falling from the corner of your eyes, yet this is exactly what you want. Frank uses his free hand to slap your face, shaking you up and making you whimper more. He cups your face and then spits over your open mouth, watching you dutifully shallow it all.
"You want my fucking cum, you stupid slut? You want daddy to fill this needy cunt?"
He groans looking at you with a feral look on his face. You are sweaty, aching, and wanting nothing more than to finish. You nod your head as best as you can at his tight grip and Frank grunts out your name. He pistols his hips uncontrollably resting inside you when he feels the first ropes of cum spilling out of him. He slowly moves his hips to make sure to shoot all of his cum inside you.
“Jesus fuck, Y/N. Fucked and bred like the stupid little whore you are.” He looks at you and smiles.
"What do you say to daddy?"
He breathes out loosening his grip a little.
"Thank you, daddy. Thank you."
"Atta girl."
He gives you a soft smile and sets your hands free as starts softly kissing you. He begins to move his hips again, and you melt at his touch. As much as you liked it rough, you loved it when he changed up the pace. He moves his hips sensually and slowly, moving his hand over your pussy, shoving a fat finger inside towards your clit. He begins to rub it slowly and it makes you cum instantly crying out his name holding on to his huge biceps.
"Atta girl."
He praises you and takes his finger off you bringing it to your face immediately. You eagerly take it inside your mouth and start sucking it off. What a good little pet you made, indeed. Frank picks up the pace and starts moving his hips again, fucking you hard, loving to shove his own cum deeper inside you. Your hands wrap around his hand as he is shoving his finger deeper inside your mouth. You can feel your eyes shutting and all you could wish for is for him to never stop fucking you.
If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle imagine#frank castle blurb#frank castle smut#frank castle drabble#frank castle oneshot#frank castle reader insert#frank castle the punisher#frank castle punisher#frank castle fic#frank castle fanfic#selenewrites#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle x f!reader#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x you#the punisher x you#the punisher x reader#the punisher netflix#the punisher#netflix punisher#punisher
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7′s the Number*
welcome to the divorced!harry fic!! warnings: OC has OCD, mention of a death of a parent, sexual content.
just another clarification: lucía, aka the OC, is NOT harry’s ex wife. they did not get a divorce. harry’s ex wife is a different person
please donate to my ko-fi here! like...please. donating is sexy.
this is 28.8k words because i have no self restraint. i don’t even want to think about how much i’ve written this year <3 as always, happy reading! and tell me what you think!
special thanks to @themeerkatnate for helping me out with the spanish bits, to @harryhoney-bee for her great grandma, and to @havinaballinthisbitch for being a pain in my ass
***
LUCÍA
They say staying friends with your ex is a gamble because you’ll always have intimate feelings for them. They never do go away, I’ll agree with that, but I didn’t think about that when Harry and I broke up only because I couldn't imagine life without him after he’d been with me for so long. Meeting someone like Harry was a privilege and I’m not saying that just because we were once together. What Harry brought to our relationship is what he brought to our friendship before and after we were together. His excitement for life put a smile on my face when nothing else would, and it continues to do so.
People say watching your ex move on is heartbreaking, and I agree with this too, but somehow, I’ve managed. He’s dated for two years after me. It’s been the same girl. I avoided being alone with them, for my own sanity, but slowly the burning jealous monster inside of me began to cool soon enough. It wasn’t an overnight occurrence. It took weeks and months, but that smile on his face made it all better.
Nothing, however, would have prepared me for Harry’s wedding day, marrying someone else.
He’s always said that he only wants to get married once because it’ll be with the right person. I thought that person would be me, but there he was, looking beautiful in his suit, combed back hair, and excited smile. He was unable to stand still for the entirety of the ceremony.
I recall it clearly. He sent me a nervous look and then furrowed his brow when he read the expression on my face. I wouldn’t be able to hide my hurt. His eyes went soft and then his expression turned apologetic. I wanted to tell him that I was happy for him, but standing there in the front row next to his sister and mother, I felt anything but happy. I felt stupid in my dress and makeup. I felt angry at myself for not fighting for him harder two years ago. I felt like the love of my life was slipping away and this was my last chance.
Say something, a voice in my head screamed. Say it now!
I opened my mouth. Harry raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened. I think he leaned towards me. But then the music began to play and his bride stepped into the room. I tore my eyes from him before he could, unable to stomach the look he was about to give her. My mouth closed and the ceremony proceeded.
This was a year and a half ago. They say that 50 percent of marriages fail, and most fail in the first two years.
Nothing could have prepared me for Harry’s wedding, but nothing could have prepared me for Harry’s divorce either.
***
November 1
I’ve been in weird places with Harry at the weirdest hours, but this is a new one. We’re in the bathroom stall, Harry’s hand hovering over the toilet holding a valuable item that should not seem all that important to him now, but he’s hesitating at the last moment. It was my idea to come here after all, the bathroom of a bar at nearly 2 in the morning, but neither of us are drunk and everything has come down to this. All the arguments, all the late nights, all the tears. It ends now.
We’re cramped in this stall, barely standing a few inches apart. I have a clear view of Harry’s face and all the emotions passing over his features. He’s sad, but also determined. Confused, but his mind is set.
His shoulders drop. “It’s fucking engraved in her grandmother’s handwriting. Jesus Christ.”
I poke his bicep, hard. “Don’t go soft on me now, Styles. Her grandma won’t care.”
He gives me a pointed look. “And how do you know that?”
“Her granddaughter ruined your life. I’m pretty sure she’ll let this one slide, Harry.”
“She didn’t…” Harry trails off, knowing I’m right. I nod at him and raise my eyebrows to acknowledge the ring in his hand. It’s a fancy one, gold all around with a neat engraving inside. He reads it one last time and then takes a deep breath.
“Okay.” He holds the ring over the toilet. In a voice that suggests otherwise he says, “I’m ready.”
I get into position, holding my finger over the flush tab. “Let’s do this.”
“Let’s count to five.”
“Let’s do three.”
I hear his sharp intake of air. “Okay. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“One, two…three.”
It happens quickly. He drops it and I swiftly flush it down before he can have second thoughts and then we both stand side by side watching the ring get flushed away. Somewhere behind us, a light bulb goes out and it’s suddenly darker in the stall. When I glance at him, I can barely make out his features, but the hard line of his mouth is clear.
Harry turns and looks at me when the ring is gone. He suddenly steps forward and holds his arms out, wrapping them around me and squeezing until I'm struggling to breathe. His neck is exposed due to his hair being tied out of the way, and my nose presses into the column of his throat.
“This really sucks,” he whispers in my ear. I hold him firmly to my front, gently guiding his head to my shoulder.
“I know,” I say, though I really don’t. “We can get through this. I’m sure of it.”
I hold him until he releases me and asks to be taken home. Since neither of us are drunk, it’s no question that it’s time to head back. What we came to do has been done, a mission gone not-so-smoothly, but successful in the end nonetheless.
Harry climbs into my car and sits with his head against the window.
As I’m driving, I glance down at his naked fingers, a weird unsettling feeling in my stomach. He’s too silent for my liking, but I can practically hear the relentless thoughts in his head joining in with mine. For the first time that night, I regret making Harry flush his ring. After all, it was my idea, and now that I ponder over it, worrying if I’ve offended him, I realize how dangerous the ground we’re treading on is. If he doesn’t say something soon, crack a joke or make a passing comment about how it’s funny that we keep catching red lights, I may have to say something. The worst part is that I don’t know what I could even day to make him feel better.
“Hey,” he says a little while later, sitting up. Relief floods me immediately. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He pause, still glancing out the window. “When I was getting married, standing up there, do you remember when I looked over at you?”
Discomfort pricks at my neck. “Of course.”
“I think about it a lot. Your face, I mean.” I see his clearly when I stop at yet another red light and he turns his head towards me. I can’t read his expression well enough though, something that frightens me because I was once able to read him with a single glance and now I don’t have the ability. I recall bragging about it for years, but now I’m debating just how well I know him. “I remember it so clearly. You weren’t crying, but there was so much pain on your face. It’s like I’d just...I don’t know. Like I’d done something horrible to you.”
I don’t reply, focused on the red light. I stare at it until my eyes water. When the light turns green, I jerk the car into motion. Harry has to grab onto his arm rest.
“You didn’t say it was me,” he continues, “but it felt like it was me. I’d done something, right? And I never realized it. I was so stupid for inviting you to that wedding.”
I swallow, looking down at the cup holder for a bottle of water to relieve my aching throat. “You don’t think I should have been there? On your happiest day?”
“I'd never seen that expression on your face before. And I haven’t since then. But it was there on my wedding day, and I’ve been thinking about it so much. If I could go back and avoid it, I would.”
Harry’s normally slow speech is even slower now, carefully saying each word. “You looked betrayed,” he says quietly. “Hurt.”
I bring the car to a stop in front of his house. “I was hurt,” I admit, reaching for his trembling hand. There’s no cold metal to prevent my entire hand from touching his. “But you were happy. It was either going to be you or me.”
“But I’ve been thinking,” he insists, squeezing my hand back, “about how I’d feel at your wedding. And I’ve only realized now how ugly the feeling would be. We’d been together for so long. We were always planning a wedding.”
I remove my hand from his grip. “I’m not going to sit here and make you feel bad for being happy. Because you were happy for years. This divorce is making you think of things that could have been, but we can’t go back and fix it, so why bother? You were happy with her. That’s a fact. You married her and that’s a fact. You got divorce. That’s the fact we’re working on digesting. You have too much on your plate to be worrying about me.”
“Do you…” he begins suddenly, “do you ever feel like we…”
His eyes widen and he stops, looking away as if he can’t believe what he was about to say. His shoulders fall again. “I’m so tired. Goodnight, Luce. I’ll see you soon?”
Disappointment grows inside me when he doesn’t continue. “Yes,” I assure him softly. “I’ll see you.”
He disappears inside of his house. I drive away with an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. It’s returned more than once since Harry announced his divorce, and I still don’t know how to identify it though it’s been weeks. When I get home, the feeling has settled deep within me and doesn’t show any signs of leaving.
***
November 7
It honestly seems like time is going by too fast and I’m not grounded like I was before. The sense of isolation worries me, but it’s what I’ve done to myself.
As soon as this month ends, it’ll be the anniversary of two separate events that have turned my life upside down, though one of those was caused by my own decision. Four years since I ended my relationship with Harry. Four years since my father passed away.
To make matters worse, it's been almost two years since I visited my father’s grave. Maybe it’s the guilt that’s piling up on me, or maybe that I feel like I’ve abandoned the one person who was always there for me. My mom has repeatedly telling me to come down to Ecuador to visit his grave. On the occasions that I call her, she always says, “Te extrañamos, mija” which makes me want to call her less because by that, she means to say both she and my father miss me. Tired of sobbing my eyes out every time she calls, I’ve decided it’s best for my own sake that we don’t call often. That doesn’t stop her from trying to reach me though.
Thinking about him too much makes my skin feel as if it’s about to erupt in hives. His lingering presence is around here, around me, but the thoughts of his apparition following me around makes me nervous. What if he’s still stuck around here? I’m not particularly religious, but at these times, I wish I'd been able to follow a religion and believe in something at least.
I wonder if this is how Harry feels, because if so, if we are connected through this miserable, helpless feeling, I don’t think I could ever help him.
The picture of my father on my desk has been turned down. At first, I turned it around so I wouldn’t be able to see it while I worked at my desk, working through paperwork upon paperwork since the pandemic has made me rely on working from home, but I’d see his crinkly smile and bright eyes as I’d approach my desk. I’m not at the stage where I’d like to remove him from the wood altogether, but I can’t stand the feeling of his eyes on me, watching every dip of my pen, every line I make with my art tools, every breath I take. I already feel his eyes everywhere. I can’t stand this.
For weeks, I didn’t get any work done, but now that he’s no longer looking at me, I can work.
My laptop takes most of my attention on weekdays. Typing has become a little harder for me recently. If I make a typo, I must delete the entire sentence and rewrite it. It takes so long to write a single email. I must attach and delete the attachments repeatedly until I can slide over the attachment in a single go and not accidentally drop it from my cursor. I need to hear a good click before I can send the email. The “enter” button on my keyboard has been stuck recently and it’s been driving me insane.
It’s the same with writing. If I’m writing a quick note on a notepad, if the letters are unreadable, I’ve got to discard the post-it altogether and redo it. It’s incredibly time consuming. I’ve wasted so much paper these past few months.
I enjoy my job thoroughly, but it’s been feeling like a chore recently. I’ve rearranged my office twice in the past week. I’ve cleaned my desk multiple times so everything feels right. Something bad will happen if I don’t. I don’t know what it would be, but I’d rather take the precaution. It’s always been like this, the discomfort slowly becoming a background characteristic of me. It’s just been worse recently.
My therapist says to just stop. Stop giving into the temptation. Stop rewriting sentences. Stop flicking the light switch until it feels right. Stop refusing to put my phone down unless all five of my fingers wrap around the width of it. Stop refusing to sleep until I’ve checked that my alarm is on three times. Stop counting.
“I’m trying,” I’ve been telling her. “I really am.”
“Keep trying,” she says. “Eventually you’ll see that nothing bad happens.”
I’m not sure about that. I’ve been doing everything my brain has been telling me. I haven’t explored the idea of not doing something. I can’t do it. I can’t explain it, but I just can’t walk away from an intrusive thought like that.
I swivel back in my chair, laying my head back. My mind wanders back to Harry. I should invite him to stay over for a few days while his ex wife packs her stuff. He’s been so scared about running into her. I understand. But, I am also selfish and I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself from becoming intimate with Harry once more. And that’s the one thing he does not need.
I have to be his friend. I cannot be thinking of myself at a time like this when Harry could be, arguably, doing worse than I am. How did this happen? Just over three years ago, everything was falling into place. Our early twenties looked bright and the future was even more exciting to ponder over. What kind of adventures would we go on together? How much more money would we have to save in order to treat ourselves when necessary?
Well, life certainly works in mysterious ways because three years ago, I never would have thought I’d be in this type of predicament. I know life can be difficult and that people come and go, but I didn’t expect to be the type of person to stay hung up on important people I let get away. When Harry and I broke up, I told myself that it was for the best, for both of us. When my father died, I thought it was for the best that he’s in a better place.
But now, four years later, I’m wondering if I’ve made a mistake thinking the people who have left were right to leave.
***
November 10
HARRY
It’s snowing. Not enough to stick, but enough for the roads to become slippery and the bridges to be encased with ice. When the temperature drops, I usually feel a lot better. I don’t like how hot it gets even in Boston. Though I’ve been in America for years, I’ll never fail to get excited at the sight of the snow. Winter is the best season, especially when it comes in strong. The hot days of summer blend into each other making me dehydrated and, oddly enough, feel lonely. But the winter makes it all melt away.
I’m supposed to be working on quarterly budget reports for work, but there’s something else taking my attention. It’s the last bit of paperwork before the divorce is finalized. I was filling out the forms just a few moments ago, but since I’m left handed, looking at my bare fingers became too jarring and, frankly, a little bit depressing.
So now I’m just staring at the half filled forms and thinking how much trouble I’d be in if I packed up all my belongings tonight and decided to flee to England. I still have some family left there. I’m sure I could combine some savings and buy a flat. Rent, even. Get a dog so I’m not lonely.
Unfortunately, almost all my family is now in America, so parting from them will be difficult. Not to mention Lucía might kill me altogether.
Speaking of Lucía, I’ve got to ask her what’s been going on with her. Ever since I broke the news of the divorce to her, she’s been focusing so much on helping me move on, I've forgotten to ask how she’s doing. I’m grateful she’s my friend during these tough times, but recently, there’s been something dark in her eyes, something on the tip of her tongue that she’s held herself back from saying.
And it’s almost December. December is brutal to Lucía.
Given my position with the relationships in my life, I don’t think I should have a say in how she addresses hers. Not with my wife still harassing me about the forms I haven’t finished.
Wife. She’s made the word become so bitter in my mouth. As soon as she’s changed her name back and decided to move out, I imagine things will be a little easier, but for now, I’ll have to withstand the tight feeling in my stomach.
I’m 27 years old. I’ve been married for less than two years and here I am losing sleep over a divorce. There has to be something wrong with me. How have I made bad decision after bad decision? These thoughts torment me at night as I’m too busy with work and court dates in the morning and afternoons. My choices have taken a negative toll on everyone around me, and there’s nobody to blame but myself. I was in a sane state of mind while making these decisions, so how come the consequences are hitting harder than any other stupid thing I’ve done in my life? How did I decide that I was ready to settle down so early? How did I just agree to the divorce so easily without going to therapy or seeking a second, third, and fourth opinion? How did I let Lucía walk away from our relationship in a single night? Everything’s happening around me. This is my life, yet I am not in charge of it at all.
I push the forms back into their respective manilla folders and get up to brew some strong tea. Snow is still falling steadily, snowflakes dissolving as soon as they touch the ground. There’s puddles of water forming around the sewers on my street. All the lights are bright and some people have begun to put up Christmas lights already.
After tea, I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then, I carefully wash my face and then look up into the mirror. Gliding my wet hands over my face, I check for any inconsistencies. My eyes look a bit swollen and perhaps a little jaded. My mouth looks the same with the small mole beside it. My cheeks look a little less full than usual and my collarbones seem to be sticking out just a bit more than I’d like. My dark circles are the worst of them all.
Then, I glance down at my hands. They look relatively the same as before, with the exception of the lack of gold band around my third finger. I wiggle my fingers a bit and then peer at my face again. Physically, I’m pretty much the same person. Just a bit weathered. That’s alright, I think to myself. People get divorced all the time. They make it out alive. You’re different now. You’re a divorced man. You’re no longer a married man.
Back in my room, I look at my king sized bed. I never had one before, even when I lived with Luce. We both fit comfortably on a queen size, and we didn’t spend a lot of time away from each other at night either. I always felt pleasantly suffocated on that bed with her, and I enjoyed every moment of it. This bed is much larger and I feel suffocated in a different way, as if I’m drowning. When I sit on it, I immediately sink in. Luce always claimed to have back issues so our mattress was more firm than this one. This mattress is comfortable, though very unsatisfactory.
I lay right in the middle, because I’m allowed to now. I feel small and then think of the person who can help me feel better. I’ve made it a mission not to bother her so often, but on days I feel terribly lonely, I become selfish and think only of myself. Sometimes, I wonder if that is the reason for her ending things with me.
***
LUCÍA
Tonight’s not a good night. I’m standing in the shower, focusing on my breathing instead of the temptation, but what if this is the time that the worst happens? The conditioner bottle in my hand nearly slips when I put it back down, taking a few seconds to brace for the worst. Nothing happens. Hot water sprays onto my face and burns my skin, but aside from the discomfort, the catastrophe that I expect doesn’t happen. My shoulders slowly begin to relax, breathing a little evenly. It’s okay. I can stop showering now.
Somewhere in the other room, I hear my phone ringing. My eyes open immediately and fear grips me as I glance down at the conditioner bottle, praying the ringing stops.
Stop. Stop!
It’s not stopping!
As soon as I snatch the bottle up again and squirt more product into my palm, the ringing stops. Oh, God. Was I too late? No, I couldn’t have been. It was only ten seconds. Ten seconds, not three or seven. Ten is an awful number. Why did I wait so long?
So for the third time that night, I begin to condition my hair, rubbing the product through the ends of my curls. If I condition too much, they’ll become dry and brittle, but I can’t stop my hands. Three times isn’t so bad, I end up thinking to myself. At least it’s not seven times like two weeks ago. I cried so hard while detangling my hair in the morning.
When I’m out of the shower, I check my phone, only to be horrified because it was Harry who had called. And recently, I’ve been trying to save Harry from getting hurt. Is it finally this time?
Panicked, I call him back and begin pacing in my room. He picks up on the fourth bell and says, “Hey. Sorry, I thought you were busy. Then I realized it’s 10 at night.”
“Are you okay?” I press, holding the phone anxiously. My hair’s dripping water onto my floor and as I pace, I nearly slip. “Are you hurt?”
Harry was very confused when we first started dating. He didn’t understand the correlation between the state of my relationships and the obsession that came with numbers for me. I couldn’t explain how it had started or why, but that it was going to be a factor in this relationship. Over time, Harry’s become very accustomed to it.
So much that he laughs a bit. “Yeah, Luce. I’m good.”
“Stop laughing. It’s serious.”
He doesn’t sound serious at all. “I know. Thanks for worrying about me. What was it this time?”
“Fuck you. I had to condition my hair three times.”
“And why about me?”
“I don’t know. I just felt like if I didn’t do it, you’d blow up or something. And at first, I didn’t do it because--”
I hear his smile. “Because you don’t care about me.”
“No! Because my therapist says to try to break out of it and see that nothing happens when I don’t give into the temptation. And I tried that, but then you called. And I got scared.”
“Alright,” Harry replies softly, no longer finding it funny apparently. “I’m sorry. But, I’m fine. Thank you for worrying.”
“Shut up.” I can’t help but smile too, finally feeling a little better. “Are you good? It’s pretty late.”
Harry exhales deeply like he’s just settled into his couch. “Yeah, I’m good. I was going to ask if I could come by your job tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“That sounds very ominous. You know I don’t like that, Harry.”
“I promise it’s not bad. I’d just like to see your face when I ask you.”
This makes my heart beat a little faster in my chest. “Oh. Yeah, just come before my first meeting at 11, okay?”
“I don’t have to come if you’re busy.”
“I’m not busy.”
“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “That’s all I had to say. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Okay. Bye, Harry.”
“Bye, Luce.”
There’s a pause right before we hang up. There’s always one. In my head, I tell Harry that I love him and I like to think that Harry’s doing the same. The pause lasts for three seconds before I hear him pull the phone away from his ear and end the call. I tuck my phone away under my sheets and then get ready for bed.
Thankfully, brushing my teeth doesn’t take too long and drying my hair too. And when I lay in bed, I find that sleep comes to me easily. Thank goodness, because I don’t think I could survive yet another sleepless night.
***
November 11
There’s a lot to do at work today. With the impending snow storm on the way, my department head believes the office will have to shut down for at least a day, if not more. The building itself is old so when there’s a big storm, there’s a high probability that the lights will go out and it takes hours of maintenance to revive the building.
I have a job interview in a few days. I want to be the new department head when the current one gets a promotion. I’ve been prepping meticulously for it and I have a team to help me get ready for the interview with corporate. Nearly every day, I meet with them at 11 o’clock to go over my key points over what I’d change as the new boss and how I’ll put my plans into action.
My phone goes off when I’m just getting into my key notes for today’s meeting.
“Harry Styles is here to see you. There’s no appointment in the book. Should I send him in or ask him to schedule an appointment?” the receptionist says.
“No, no, just send him up.”
Harry arrives at my office at 10:30 and sheepishly places a hazelnut latte gently in front of me. “I know. I’m pushing it with the time. I can tell you’re in a bad mood.”
I’m feeling a little nervous and trying to avoid caffeine, but I know how hard it must have been for him to get the coffee, especially with the weather outside. He still has some snow in his hair. I take the coffee and sip it, appearing disinterested.
“Did you get me a donut?”
“No,” Harry says, grinning, as he pulls out a bag and tosses it onto my desk. Two pumpkin donuts.
“Hmm. Good enough. Sit down.”
Harry sits down, fixing his shirt as he does. He crosses his leg over the other comfortably and then rests his hands in his lap. Whenever I see Harry, I like to note the differences from the last time I’d seen him. His under eye circles are still very prominent.
His hair is still drying from his morning shower, face clean shaved. His clothes are neatly pressed, a spark in his eye. I feel proud just from looking at him. I hope he feels the same looking at me.
“I’m alright. Got a court meeting tomorrow about dividing our assets. It’s a bit annoying now.” He hesitates suddenly and then leans forward, placing his laced hands on my desk. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I’m occupied tomorrow so I’m just going to fit it in now.”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, no, everything’s good.”
“Alright. What is it?”
Harry opens his mouth and inhales, but then stops. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. I know Harry well enough to be able to tell when he’s stressed and his discomfort oddly eases my thoughts of not being able to read him anymore.
“I wanted to ask you last time, but I guess we were a little busy,” he starts, glancing down at his bare fingers. “You can totally say no because I understand how weird this is and I don’t want you to feel pressured because I’m your friend, but I also want you to consider it, alright?”
I put the coffee down and reach for the donuts and take a big bite. “Sounds good.”
“Alright, well.” Now he looks uneasy. He cracks his knuckles. “I was wondering if it would be okay to stay with you for a little bit.”
I swallow the donut. It goes down the wrong pipe and I cough a bit. Harry looks concerned. With tears in my eyes, I croak, “Is the demon bitch kicking you out of your own apartment?”
Harry’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth curves into a small smile. “What? No. It’s not that. She’s almost fully moved out actually. I haven’t seen her in a while. It’s just that, well, the apartment is meant for two or three people, you know? So now that she’s not there, it’s just big and empty. And I’m barely there except to sleep. I just… I don’t know. I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
There’s a pink blush over his cheeks, giving him a healthy glow on his otherwise pale skin. His summer freckles are long gone now, but the new color looks lovely on him. “I don’t mind,” I find myself saying, “if you stay at mine for a bit. But it’s a little cramped and it’s meant for one person.”
“I don’t mind that,” Harry says quickly, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s not the space I’m worried about. I’ve never been there but I’m sure it’s a great space. I guess I’m more concerned about…”
“Staying with me,” I finish, putting the donut down. I wipe my hands on a napkin, but choose to do it under the desk because my fingers are trembling.
“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, scratching his neck. “I don’t want it to be weird. But I also don’t want to be alone and I’d rather be with someone I know than be alone.”
This is one of the many times that I realize I don’t fully know how Harry’s been handling the divorce, only because I’ve never been through one. I’ve been through break ups, the worst one being with the person sitting in front of me, but never a divorce. After all those years and vows and sacrifices. It’s beginning to dawn on me just how lonely a divorce must be. She’d rejected him and the last thing I want is for Harry to feel unloved.
He isn't. I’m the one who loves him.
And not only that, but I know Harry’s nature after being with him for so long. He’s emotional. He feels hurt deeply.
Harry assumes my silence is a sign of discomfort. Immediately, his eyes widen. “Like I said, you don’t have to agree. You can even take a day or two to think about it. I’m not...I’m not forcing you. And I know that this is really weird because you’re… you, Luce. We have history and I’m not trying to open any stitches or do anything to hurt you. And-and you can totally tell me if I’m disrespecting boundaries because I’ve done that in the past without realizing. I just want to be comfortable and I want you to be comfortable, so be completely honest with me. It won’t make me upset or angry or anything, yeah?”
Fuck, he’s freaking out. I can see the vein in his neck bulging from lack of air. He begins cracking his joints again. I crack my own. Two on one hand, two on the other.
“That’s not the problem, Harry,” I tell him sincerely. “I don’t mind you staying with me. I think my concerns are the same as yours, that we’ve lived together before and we’re not exactly dating anymore so what if it’s awkward?”
“I promise I will stay out of your way and not bug you when you’re working and leave you alone. Like I said, I’m barely at my own place, so I don’t think I’ll be at yours much anyways except to sleep.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll pay for rent, Luce.”
I shake my head, offering him a smile. “I’m not worried about rent. You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, but if I’m using your apartment, it’s the least I can do.”
“You can buy the groceries.”
“Sure, I can totally--” He pauses, inhaling slowly. “Are you agreeing to this?”
Having Harry as a roommate again? I can do that. It’ll only be for a little bit. I can keep myself off of him. I’m agreeing to this, aren’t I? This is a bad idea, but he’s looking at me like that. Like the first time he considered we should move in together when we had been dating. Such hopefulness in his eyes. Such excitement and nervousness.
How could I say no to him when he’s looking at me like he’s completely dependent on me? I want him to be dependent on me, but it’s irresponsible of me when I’m struggling to take care of myself. Should I be selfish again and refuse him? Or should I give it a try?
In the end, the only selfishness that proves to be triumphant is when I think about Harry’s close proximity to me. And I love the idea of being physically close with him.
“Yes,” I answer, reaching for my donut again. “We can make this work.”
Instant relief breaks out onto his face. He smiles wide and runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Luce. I promise I won’t get in your way, okay?”
“I don’t mind,” I insist sincerely, wishing my heart would stop acting like it’s about to stop. “I hope your living habits have changed from before.”
Harry stands up and shakes his head. “They haven’t. At all. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t come tonight though. I’ve gotta clean up.” And freak out privately. “How about the day after tomorrow?”
“That’s perfect,” he breathes, leaning over the desk to press a quick kiss to my cheek. He glances down at his watch at the same time my phone’s alarm begins to ring, signaling that I have to leave for the meeting soon. “Thank you. I’ll let you go to your meeting now, but seriously. I owe you a bunch. Bye!”
And with that, Harry’s out of my office and I’m taking a bite out of my donut once more. This is fine, I think to myself. Everything is going to go smoothly.
I feel the weight of his lips on my cheek throughout the hour-long meeting. I am a very selfish woman, indeed.
***
November 13
HARRY
I thought sleeping in the king sized bed was lonely, but nothing hits the bottom of my stomach like pulling out a duffel bag and beginning to pack. It dawns on me only an hour into packing that the bag was originally bought for the purpose of vacationing, but here I am, using it for the first time to get away from my wife.
She’s not here tonight, which is ideal because running into her has been terribly awkward and in no way avoidable. Since there hasn’t been much communication between us in recent weeks, I’ve been on edge about when she’ll decide to pop up. I know she won’t be sleeping in the apartment, but I also don’t know if she’s here while I’m at work. I do know she’s here, however, by some miracle, we’ve run into each other only a handful of times. And those times have made me incredibly uncomfortable.
I decide to pack quickly. Whatever I end up forgetting will be borrowed from Lucía or bought new.
Speaking of which, I’ve packed for at least two weeks. It doesn’t seem like much, especially when I lift the duffel bag and realize how light it is.
I don’t know how long I intend on staying with Lucía or how that whole dynamic is going to work out. But I’ve been so uncomfortable these past few weeks that if the feeling is going to follow me everywhere, I might as well be uncomfortable with someone who lessens that feeling for me.
As I continue to pack, I think of how her house must look. Knowing her, she’s meticulously cleaned every crevice of it, though I’ve told her nobody probably notices. I’ll make a special effort to mention the clean apartment though.
Before I leave, I throw out products that will expire in two weeks time. I haven’t seen her use any of the dairy, but every time I open the fridge, there’s less there. Apparently she’s bought some new cartons of milk recently and when I pick them up, they’re completely full. I bring them to the sink and hold the fresh milk over the drain, ready to spill, simply out of spite.
Then, I hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me to let go of grudges. And I put the carton back in the fridge.
***
Lucía’s place is closer to my office, which will work out well for me. I plan on just dropping my bags and leaving so I can head to work this morning. I don’t see any reason why I have to go into work late.
Lucía clearly thinks differently about this. Especially when she opens her door, still in her pajamas, hair unraveling out of her hair tie. And she wears the most irritated look on her tired face. Her expression is shadowed and the side of her cheek has a print of her pillow pressed into her skin. Compared to her, I’m dressed in a sweater and jeans, more suitable for the weather.
“You’re upset,” I carefully note. “What have I done this time?”
When Lucía’s extremely angry, she can’t bring herself to talk. It’s a weird thing about her and I’ve laughed at it before, but it does not seem like a laughing matter this time.
She grounds her teeth and hisses, “It’s 6 in the morning.”
“Yes,” I answer cheerfully. “Hey, can I come in? It’s really cold.”
She’s shivering already from the cold air I’ve brought inside the house. I push my way past her, dropping my bags. “Hey, this is a really nice place.”
“I’m going to strangle you.”
“Did you go to sleep late? Why do you still do that? Look, I got you donuts, alright? So don’t be mad at me, woman.”
Lucía looks at the donuts with distaste and then narrows her eyes and snatches them. “I am going to sleep for an hour more. Do not wake me.”
I’m not going to, wanting to keep all my body parts intact. Instead, I do the only acceptable thing since I have some time to spare. I make myself a cup of coffee and begin snooping.
To be fair, I’m not going into depth with my detective work, simply scoping the place and trying to see what’s different about the way Lucía sets up her apartment. When we lived together, she was never particular about how we decorated, leaving that completely up to me (with the exception of her office which she swore if I ever entered without her permission, she’d maim me, but I never blamed her because I hate people messing around with my work when I’m absent, too.). Since the interior decorating was mainly on me, I designed the apartment how I would design it if I were living alone and it worked quite well. Hence why I’m interested to see what she’s done differently. I begin with the kitchen.
It’s the basics, with her kitchen island in the middle and a few stools perched around it. There are four, but only one looks slightly worn down which suggests she doesn’t have many people over. As soon as I realize that, I look around for pictures on the walls of her friends or family. Surprisingly, as opposed to her desk at work, she doesn’t have any of those up, just a few paintings and wall decor that I could have picked out myself. In fact, I would lean towards these abstract works of art rather than scenic, so I think that perhaps I’ve had an influence on her taste.
Still, it’s peculiar that she doesn’t have any framed pictures, despite her having lived in this apartment for two years. The living room has a TV in the corner and a regular sized couch with a dark grey throw flung over the back cushions. I sit down and cross my legs. I would snoop in her room if that were allowed. But then I remember she’s most likely prepared a room for me, so with newfound excitement, I’m back on my feet to check out my new living space.
Remaining completely quiet as I pass the bedrooms, I realize she hasn’t exactly told me which bedroom is mine, so it’s a guessing game between these two adjacent rooms. Both of the doors are closed. I go for the one on the left.
Lucía’s fast asleep on the bed, burrowed in her blankets with her head and curly hair peeking out. My hand tightens on the door handle, but I can’t seem to move, either into the room or away from it. She’s got the same troubled expression on her face that’s always there when she sleeps, despite her having a good rest. She’s not having a bad dream, I know that much, but one look at her and I immediately want to press the crease away from her forehead like I used to years ago.
Not allowed, I firmly remind myself, swallowing. I take a step back and shut the door behind me. Well. It’s got to be the next door, doesn’t it?
It’s a decent sized room with clean white sheets spread over the bed, a window behind the head board, and a joint bathroom. There’s a twist in my stomach at the sight of the empty bed. I don’t feel like snooping anymore. I go to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. I can’t get the image of Lucía asleep out of my head. Definitely not while I’m painfully aware of the fact that she’s only a few steps away.
***
When she’s finally awake and less likely to hurl something at my head, she walks to the kitchen, grabs her water bottle, and then plops down beside me in the living room.
Despite the fact that she’s dressed and has her makeup and jewelry on, her face still tells me of how tired she is, not only by the puffiness of her eyelids, but the dark circles under her eyes. She blinks sleepily at me and then takes a big gulp of her water.
“Must be nice,” she says, resting her head back against the couch, “to have all that hair to warm you up.”
I tuck a strand of my curls behind my ear, aware of her eyes following my hand. “I mean, I’m going to put it up anyways.” I also open my mouth to tell her she has longer hair than me, but it’s already in a bun as always.
“Why? Looks nice out like that.”
I shake my head and smile at her, leaning my head back as well. “It’s annoying sometimes. Easy to put up. I’m too attached to it to cut it.”
Lucía sighs deeply and sips at her water again. “I don’t want you to cut it.”
The decision of mine to not cut it only solidifies with her words, which causes me to pause and reassess the true weight of her words on me. I immediately made up my mind after the words came out of her mind. I turn my head to glance at her; she’s idly looking at the ceiling fan.
A crease forms between her eyebrows and she picks her head up. “Why is the fan on? It’s 15 degrees outside.”
“20. And you know how hot I get.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You’re living with it now. Can’t back out now.”
“Right.” She sits up and yawns. “We’ve got to get going.”
“You won’t eat anything?”
“Can’t eat in the morning. You know that.”
I do, but I was hoping that had changed. “Want me to buy you anything on the way there? We can stop somewhere.”
Lucía’s fixing her collar when I say this and she pauses, frowning again. “You’re driving me to work?”
“Well,” I say, standing up and grabbing my keys from the coffee table. “You’re on my way, so do you mind?”
Either Lucía’s mind works slowly in the mornings or she’s taking her time to consider the answer to this proposal. “Can you drive me everyday?” she says, to my surprise. I smile and nod. “Okay, then yes. You may buy me something on the way. Everyday.”
“You’re trying to make my pockets hurt againn.”
“Yes,” she says, completely serious. “I am.”
I gesture for her to walk in front of me and once we’re both outside in the cold, I sit in the already warmed car as Lucía locks the front door.
“Do you like your room?” she asks, buckling her seatbelt.
“Yes,” I answer, thinking back to how I’d opened the door to the wrong room. I think about her warmth under her sheets, the hairs on my arm rising. “I love it. Thank you.”
She makes a sound in the back of her throat that suggests she’s proud of herself. “Good.”
I tap my fingers along the steering wheel when we wait at a red light. Lucía has busied herself with figuring out what music we need to listen to for our first drive to work together. When the light turns green, I begin driving to Lucía’s favorite coffee shop. She picks her head up and glances at the building as it comes into view and I don’t need to be looking at her to know that she’s much more awake now. She sits up eagerly and is already unbuckling her seatbelt by the time I’m parked in front.
“Go on,” I tell her, putting the car in park. “Get me a coffee.”
She opens her door. “Same order?”
I pause at how nonchalantly she says it. As if remembering my order from 4 years ago is not a big deal. “Yes. Do you remember it?”
“Of course I do.”
Lucía hops out and adjusts her coat before placing a hand in her pocket. She’s checking if she has her wallet because she refuses to buy a bag for it. She carries it in her pocket, attached to her keys, which I distinctly remember scolding her about years ago because if she ever misplaced that small wallet, she’d be losing both necessary possessions. But, clearly, she has refused to listen to me. She pulls out her wallet and then disappears inside the shop.
She returns a few minutes later with a cup holder in one hand. “Here you go,” she says, passing me my coffee, tucking herself between her thighs to warm her up.
“Thank you.” I take a cautious sip. “You do remember my order.”
“Of course I do,” she repeats, thinking nothing of it. She takes a sip of her own coffee and then sighs, melting into her seat. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Your order is very easy to remember. Not to mention I always got you coffee when we were dating.” Her voice falters at the last word and she glances at me through the corner of her eyes to check if I’m alright with the mention of our history.
As soon as she reminds me that we once dated, I realize just how close we are in this car. And so alone.
“Right,” I finally say. “Don’t expect me to know your order though. It used to change frequently.”
I place the car in reverse and drape an arm behind her seat, carefully maneuvering the car out of the parking spot.
“It changes almost every week. I no longer like hazelnut lattes.”
“I got lucky, then.”
“Yes. You did.”
Lucía finally finds a good song for the ride and continues to sip her coffee, letting out small “ah’s” whenever she swallows. Intrigued, I don’t say anything, but I’m thinking about how her habits haven’t changed over these years. I don’t know if the feeling in my stomach is discomfort, hope, or nostalgia, but whatever it is, it amplifies every time she swallows her drink and makes that noise.
Her lips must be incredibly warm after having them attached to the top of the cup during the entire ride. My hands absentmindedly tighten around the steering wheel.
“Luce.”
She turns to look at me. Her eyes are wider and less puffy. It’s a miracle what a cup of coffee does for her. “Yeah?”
“I have a court date on the 17th. Four days from now. We’ll talk about dividing our assets so once we decide on the apartment, I’ll let you know when I’ll go back home.”
Lucía is quiet for a while. She taps her nails against her cup. “You don’t have to rush. You just got here today.”
“Right.” And I’m losing my mind already. “But I don’t want to impose on you for too long. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
“I really don’t mind, Harry. Would you like me to come to court with you?” When I glance at her with uncertainty, she clarifies, “For moral support.”
“Yeah,” I answer, shooting her a smile. “I’d like that.”
She nods and turns back to her coffee, taking a longer sip despite how hot the beverage must be. She lets out the small “ah” and I have to focus on all my face muscles to reduce my smile because it only continues to grow listening to that soft sigh.
Arriving at her building, I pull up to the front and watch her get out. “I’ll be out by 4, okay?” she tells me, leaning down to reach the window. “When do you think we’ll go home?”
“I’ll be here by 4:15. Same spot.”
“Okay. See you.” She gives me one more smile before turning away and entering the large building.
As I’m driving away, a shiver runs through my body despite the blasting heat in the car and the warm coffee settling in my stomach. When do you think we’ll go home?
***
As promised, I arrive to pick her up at 4:15. She’s walking outside with one of her coworkers, talking to him animatedly. No doubt she’s explaining something of importance to him so I wait for them to finish their conversation.
Something heavy lands a blow into my gut when Lucía laughs and rests a hand on his shoulder before stepping away and heading towards my car. By the time she’s at my door, I think I’ve concealed the expression on my face well, offering her a smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi. It’s very cold,” she whispers, holding her hands over the air. “I am so hungry. Let’s order take out because I can’t be bothered with cooking right now.”
“Sure, Luce.”
She peeks at me as I pull out of the parking spot. Wordlessly, she reaches over and takes the AUX cord, attaching it to her phone. “You okay?”
She’s allowed to like other people. I would be a prick to deny her of that right, especially since I found myself married not even two years after that December night.
“Of course. I’m pretty hungry too.” I was, but I don’t have an appetite anymore. I swallow, in hopes of drowning the ill feelings deep down. “Let’s get some food.”
We have dinner and the discomfort I feel is momentarily gone. I listen intently as Lucía talks about her day, carefully chewing her food in between her words. She drinks her water in intervals of 3. Her throat works to swallow the liquid and I’m constantly catching myself staring and end up forcefully tearing my eyes away from her.
As I sit across from her and listen, I can’t help but examine her face. She’s tired, not only physically, but it seems emotionally too as she takes long pauses between her words to gather her thoughts and continue. She describes in detail how she has been trying to get a promotion, however, she’s been so stressed about the outcome because while she likes her job, she believes she can do better in a higher position with more access to managing her software department. Her mascara has leaked down to her under eyes, causing them to appear darker than normal. Her lipstick is a bit smudged and the collar of her blouse open.
After I’m finished telling her that my day was “fine”, she gathers our plates and puts them in the sink.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I tell her, gently steering her away. My hands have automatically latched onto her shoulders, but I drop them quickly, in fear I’ve made her uncomfortable. They land on her waist instead, which is a hundred times worse, and then I pull my hands back to my side. “Ah. Sorry. Here, move over.”
“I can do it,” she argues, thankfully not thinking too much about my touch. If she is dwelling over it, I certainly can’t see from her face. “You’re my guest.”
“I’m taking over your house, Luce.”
“I’ll wash, you dry.”
“I’ll wash, you dry,” I counter, to which she agrees.
“Fine.” She stands on my other side and waits for the water to begin running. There are a few cups and plates from this morning. “How do you feel about the court date?”
Her eyes watch unashamedly as I roll up my sleeves. “I feel fine.”
“Yeah?” Then, she hesitates, focused on my tattoos on my forearms. “Do you cry?”
I raise my eyebrows. “At…at the court dates, you mean?”
“Mhm.”
“No. I haven’t shed a single tear over this divorce.” She glances at me warily and I laugh. “I have no reason to be sad about it. The only thing I do feel is sorry.”
“You feel sorry for yourself?”
“Incredibly.”
“But not about losing her?”
“Not a single bit. What? Don’t look at me like that.”
Lucía begins drying the plate I’ve passed to her. She goes over the surface many times and then the back. She puts the plate away for two seconds before picking it up and drying it again. “I just think you have to be emotional.”
“I have to be?”
“Yes,” she says, tucking the plate back. “It’s healthy.”
“But,” I argue, passing her the next plate, “I don’t feel bad.”
“But you must feel something if you’re here with me, Harry, instead of being at your own place.” She meticulously dries the next plate. “I mean, it’s a divorce. It’s a huge change. You can’t just be okay with it. I’m saying that it’s okay to not be okay.”
She quietly tucks the plate away and takes a cup from me. “Sorry if I’m overstepping. You’re my friend and I have no idea what you’re going through, but I think you need to be in touch with your emotions.”
“Luce, you know better than anyone how in touch with my emotions I am.”
She sighs and puts the cup down on the counter. “You need to cry.”
“Alright, step on my feet or something.”
“Harry, I’m serious.”
I rinse my hands and turn to her. A muscle in her jaw tenses. She has the same crease between her eyebrows that she does when she sleeps.
She says, “I want you to be happy.” And then she steps forward, slowly wrapping her arms around my torso, pressing her forehead to the hollow between my neck and collarbones. For a second, I’m frozen, my heart beating wildly in my ears. When she presses her cheek against my neck, I forcefully ground myself and relax, succumbing into her embrace. Though my hands are wet, she doesn’t mind how cold I make her skin through her thin blouse, gathering her closer to me.
“You’re right,” I say quietly, inwardly begging my heart to slow down. I lean against the counter, tugging her with me. Her knees brush against mine. “It is a very big change and I hate it. I wish it never happened, but I’m glad it did at the same time. I don’t want to be with a woman who isn’t faithful to me. I’m not asking for a lot, so don’t you think I deserve better?”
She pulls away and insists, “Of course you deserve better! But you’re still allowed to be angry at her or upset with yourself! I don’t want that, but it would be healthy.”
Her dark eyes have always been painfully hypnotic to me, and this intense look she’s giving me has the same effect. I smile and slowly tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Listen,” I tell her softly. “I do feel a lot right now. I’m here with you because I couldn’t stand being alone in that house. Not because I miss her or I wish I could fix things, but because I feel lonely. I’m lonely, Luce.”
Her mouth curves down. “It’s okay to be lonely sometimes, as long as we know how to fix it.”
“That’s not fair. You don’t get to tell me that with how lonely you are. What have you done to fix it?” I ask gently.
Her eyebrows pull together, alerting me I’m in dangerous territory. “That’s different.”
I drop my hand and cross my arms over my chest instead. “How so?”
“Because it was my choice! I like to be alone. Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. You didn’t have a choice in the divorce.”
“I signed the papers first. I initiated.”
“No, I mean, there’s nothing you could have done aside from divorce.”
“There’s nothing I would have wanted to do either, Luce. Divorce isn’t something that just happens overnight. It was a bunch of things and her cheating on me was the final blow that made me walk away. This was also my decision. And I’m not upset about it, I’ve already told you.”
“But you’re lonely!” she repeats exasperatedly.
“I can’t be lonely if I’m here with you,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “I have you.”
“And when you go back? You’ll be lonely, won’t you?”
“I don’t know what type of answer you want from me. Yes, I will be. Not because I miss her, but because I miss having someone around all the time. And I’ve accepted that. I’m okay.”
Something suddenly changes on her face, and she takes a step back. Her expression is completely unreadable, yet guarded. “Is that how it was after us? With you being lonely?”
I open my mouth to immediately reassure her, but she frowns, conveying she doesn’t want anything sugarcoated. My shoulders drop and I take a few seconds to search for the right words. “Yeah, Luce. I was really lonely. But the difference was that I missed you. I don’t miss her. And honestly? That breakup hurt a hundred times worse than this.” Oh, God, I need to stop talking. I need to shut my mouth right now. “So just think. If I made it out of that alive, don’t you think I’ll come out completely unhurt with this one?”
I’ve said the wrong thing. I can tell by her face that she’s not heard anything I’ve explained after mentioning our breakup. She swallows, taking another step back, now refusing to look at me, which I find incredibly frustrating. I’m itching to grab her and bring her back to me. “I’m sorry,” she quietly says, rolling her heel absently. “I didn’t know I hurt you so bad.”
This conversation has made my head hurt with confusion and now I can’t remember how we turned this on ourselves. No amount of reassurance will put the words I’ve already said back in my mouth. So instead of trying to ease her worries, I answer, “It was a long time ago, Luce.” I don’t try to tell her that I’m fine now, because I don’t think I could summon a lie like that and make it sound believable. “A lot has happened since then.”
Finally, she picks up her head and nods. “Yes. It was a long time ago. We’ve grown, I think.”
“We have.”
She returns to her position besides me and picks up the discarded wet cup, beginning the process of drying every single crevice. I take the hint and start washing the dishes again.
After a tense silence, I say, “So you’re not going to kick me out or anything, right?”
To which Lucía surprises me with a slight smile and a shake of her head. “Of course not.”
And after we’re finished, we part and she heads into her room while I’m left in mine. I sit on the spare bed. Unpacking my bags seems exhausting. So I leave them by the closet and get ready for bed. Despite my proximity to her, I feel even more distanced now, laying in a separate bed.
I turn to open the window behind me and remove my clothes, slipping into bed. My eyes remain focused on the wall separating us until I’ve fallen asleep.
***
November 17
LUCÍA
And I can't decide if I’m happy or sad that living with Harry has been easy. We’ve settled right into a routine that is suspiciously similar to what it was when we were together. Perhaps I’m happy now and dreading the moment he leaves. There’s just something about seeing him as soon as I wake up that makes me ready for the day.
There’s also something about Harry smiling softly at me in the mornings with a murmur of “Good morning, Luce. Did you sleep well?” along with those gentle eyes, wet hair from his morning showers, and well pressed professional clothing. It’s different than seeing him later in the day when he’s less fresh (but still attractive). Seeing him in the afternoon and evenings makes my heart swell, but seeing him in the mornings, freshly shaved and still smelling like his aftershave does something else to me. Something I thought I repressed a long, long time ago.
But mornings aren’t the only time I feel that type of raw urge around him. It happens in other more inconvenient times as well, such as when he leans against the counter in the evenings when I’m finishing dinner and he wants to talk about his day, or when he’s driving and he glances at me with a soft smile, working on the steering wheel with one hand. When he comes to me at night to bid me goodnight, or when he’s tying his hair up and I can’t help but think of how his soft curls would feel between my legs.
I want to know how he kisses and if it’s still the same way as he would four years ago. I want to know that if he hugs me, will his arms still wrap around my waist and will he lean down to make up for the heigh difference? I want to know that if he ever undresses me again, will he start with my shirt because he still finds me irresistible in just my bra and jeans? And when we cuddle, would he still engulf me with his entire body and make it so I wake up, unable to breathe? Is his favorite way of relieving stress still what it used to be, with me in between his legs?
But then, I think about only him. His old habits. Does he still make that face when he tries something sour, the face where his expression pinches and then he coughs? Does he still stand under the shower for a few minutes just to get warm before reaching for the shampoo? Does it still take him only 3 minutes to shave? Does he still dog ear his books instead of buying himself a new bookmark?
I want to know all of this. And it’s only been a few days.
Today, I’ve driven myself to work because I’m going to meet him at court after work. He’s been missing all morning, to my disappointment. But I’m also glad he wasn’t there to witness my panic over ironing my clothes exactly 3 and a half times on each sleeve, back and front, which resulted in tears. Given that start, my morning has not been fun at all, but draining.
Now, I’m excited to see him. I arrive at the city building right before his appointment at 3:30.
I’ve seen many versions of Harry. I’ve seen him glowing with a grin splitting his face, I’ve seen him cry until his body aches, I’ve seen him tremble with pleasure, and I’ve seen him scared with eyes as large as they can go, but I’ve never quite seen this Harry.
He’s quite off today, but nobody can tell unless they look at him carefully, reading his body language. Physically, he’s looking really nice in a dark navy blue suit and white open collar shirt. His hair is tied neatly and securely out of his face. As promised, there he is, waiting for me, leaning against the pillar of the building. He’s on his phone typing away, and when I reach him, he tucks his phone into his pocket and says, “Mum’s wishing me luck. She says hello.”
Harry pushes his body off the pillar. “Hi.” I notice he’s checking what I’m wearing and I awkwardly pull my coat tighter around me.
“I didn’t know what to wear,” I admit, glancing down at my tapered pants. “I didn’t change after work. I’ve never been to court, so I hope it’s appropriate enough.”
“I’m sure it is. You won’t be in the room so it’s not too big of a deal,” he says, checking the time. He’s distracted. “Anyways. We should head in. I’ll walk you to the waiting area, yeah? I think she’s already here because I didn’t see her come in.” He finally looks at me. “I’ll try to be quick, okay? And then we can get something to eat.”
I nod and offer him a smile. He opens the door and heads in, leaving me to trail behind him. He’s holding a manila folder close to his side, drumming his thumb anxiously against it as he walks. He doesn’t look around for directions on where to go, clearly having been inside this building before. He navigates the halls easily and then stops at an elevator, leaning in to press the UP button.
The building seems deserted. My heels make a loud sound as we walk into the elevator and then the doors close around us. Harry hits the number 3.
I can’t help but peek at him, though the lighting in this elevator is subpar. His eyes are focused on the display showing the levels, arm clutching the manila folder tighter against his side. The scent of his aftershave has died down a little, but if I concentrate, I can still smell it.
“You okay?”
Harry’s eyes flicker to mine briefly and he sends me a faint nod. “I’m fine.”
“You sure you don’t want me inside the room with you?”
“No, Luce. It's fine.”
He’s not in the mood to talk, so I simply wait patiently beside him. When the doors reopen, he takes the lead once more and takes a right, leading me to a room that looks like a waiting room in a doctors office. He gestures to me to head inside and takes a deep breath.
“I’ll come get you in a bit.”
I nod, stepping into the room. “Alright. I’ll see you.”
Harry hesitates a bit, glancing down the hallway he’s about to walk down. It’s the first time I see a crack in his confidence. His throat jumps as he swallows and then he takes another deep breath.
“Okay. I’m off.”
Harry shows no sign of leaving. Instead, after a brief moment of hesitation, he reaches out and grabs my elbow with a large hand and brings me closer, ducking his head. He presses a kiss to my cheek and then tightly hugs me to his chest. He doesn’t say anything and I’m unable to either as he knocks the wind out of me with the grip around my body. I hear his thundering heartbeat under my ear, the warmth of his body rolling off and hitting me square in the chest.
“Thank you for being here.”
My own heart’s beating out of my chest already due to the close proximity, but I can’t let him go just yet. When he goes to move away, I refuse to depart from him. Instead, I yank the collar of his shirt so he’s closer and tell him firmly, “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
His eyes darken just the slightest bit when I release him and he takes a step back. The corner of his mouth twitches, he says, “Thank you,” and then he’s out the door. I see him fixing his collar as he walks down the hallway.
Falling into my seat and crossing my legs, I press my hands to my hot cheeks. It’s been a long time since he’s been that close to me, and everything feels the same despite all this time. Harry and I see each other on a regular basis, however, sometime during his relationship with his ex wife, he stopped embracing me or pressing those friendly greeting and departing kisses to my cheek. I understand why, but I never realized how much it upset me until now.
The last time he’d kissed me was the day I accepted his idea of moving in with me, and even then, I’d thought about the feel of his lips on my cheek for days after that. This is different.
Harry’s love language, I found out early on in our relationship years ago, is touch. At nearly every waking moment that we were together, I’d find some part of Harry touching me. I became used to his touch very quickly. His warm, heavy embrace calmed me whenever I had a burst of anxiety or stress.
How did I end up losing that touch? He touched me everyday and then he stopped altogether. I ended our relationship and he stopped touching me. I’d call it cruelty if I didn’t bring it upon myself. How have I survived this long without his touch?
I lean forward and bury my head into my palms, resting my elbows on my knees. His strong grip has left a lasting feeling on my arm that I’m thoroughly enjoying. I can’t be thinking about Harry again. I’ve kept those feelings locked away since Harry announced his divorce months ago. He’s in no position to be subjected to my feelings for him right now. He can’t handle it. I can’t handle it! This should not be a matter of importance.
***
As promised, Harry returns just 20 minutes later and gestures for me to hop out of my seat. He looks a little disheveled, or rather, more than usual.
“I’m starving,” he mutters, holding the door open for me. “Let’s eat please. You pick the place.”
He steers us towards the elevator and jabs the button quickly. His foot taps impatiently as we wait for the doors to open and when they finally do, he places a hand on my back and all but shoves me in. Then he turns and slams the button to shut the doors.
I stare at him. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Just not too keen on sharing an elevator with my ex wife.” He hits the ground level button. “Officially my ex wife.”
“Are we running away from her?”
Harry presses his tongue to the corner of his mouth and I realize with a gasp that he’s hiding a smile. “She freaked out about the ring. And when I say freaked out, I mean she threw a tantrum. I swear if there was nobody there, she would have slashed me with her heel. She was talking to me about it as I was packing up so I’m sure she’s not too far behind us.”
“What? Oh, God. Is she going to chase after us?”
Harry’s grinning now, shrugging a shoulder. “Don’t know. If we have to run, I’ll get away from her, but you might not.”
We both look down at my shoes. I tap them nervously. “No, she won’t do anything.”
Harry stutters out a laugh. “I hope not.”
“You’re having a lot of fun, aren’t you?”
“I’m having a lot of fun,” he confirms when the doors open. When we step out, we hear her heels, fast and rough against the tiled floor.
“Harry--!”
Harry grabs my elbow and tugs me towards him, steering us towards the entrance. “Just keep your head down.”
Unfortunately, keeping our head down does nothing because his ex wife’s loud bellow of “Don’t you dare run from me, Harry!” echoes through the lobby.
Harry tilts his head down towards my ear and quietly says, “Think you can run?”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Come on. Here, wait. Take them off and give them to me.”
We stop, just briefly, and I bend down to quickly undo the buckles, all but tossing the shoes to him once they’re off. Harry holds them with two fingers and glances behind him.
His hand touches my back again and he gives me a startling push. His longer legs encourage me to break out into a run, his hand sliding off my back and wrapping around my wrist instead. “Come on.”
His ex wife catches up significantly, her face looking like it’s about to combust. I haven’t seen her in so long. There’s a fire in her blue eyes as she yells his name again. “I paid for that fucking ring! I gave you yours back, now you give me mine!”
“She doesn’t know you flushed it?” I whisper.
To my surprise, Harry’s still laughing. “Nope.”
“Oh, God.”
Harry leads us towards the parking lot and glances over his shoulder. “Damn, she runs fast. Let’s go to my car.”
He unlocks it quickly and we part to get to our respective sides. He throws my shoes in the back.
“Don’t run her over!” I hiss as Harry begins to pull out of the parking spot. I grab onto his sleeve. “Look both ways. I don’t want to catch a case.”
Harry shakes off my hand and grabs it instead, holding it between the console.
“I won’t,” he laughs, navigating us safely from his ex wife. “Holy hell. I married her? Why’d you let me do that?”
“I didn’t tell you to!”
“Someone should have stopped me. As my best friend, I think that was your duty.”
“As if you would have listened!”
Harry smiles, pulling out of the building’s parking lot, taking a deep breath. “We’re in the clear.”
“My car is still there!”
“Hush. We’ll get it afterwards. I’m starving. Even more now.”
We’re still holding hands in the middle of the console. Harry flips the indicator and then brakes at a stop sign, tapping my knuckles with his thumb absently in perfect rhythm, waiting for a break in traffic. I don’t make any effort to stop him or remind him this isn’t what we should be doing. His hand feels fitting in mine, soft and cold from the winter air. With the summer sun no longer around to tan his skin, his hand looks pale, and significantly more so with mine under it.
Nothing happens for a long time, the afternoon traffic causing us to stay behind the stop sign for well over two minutes. Should I be the one pulling away? He doesn’t notice our hands clasped together. It’s his hand that's heavy on top of mine, holding my fingers towards my palm.
I peek at him. He looks much better than earlier with clearer eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he bites into the inside of his cheek. I momentarily admire his outfit, my eyes falling down to his thighs. My jaw clenches as a memory passes through my mind. It’s a memory of his hands tightly holding my waist hard enough to bruise my skin, guiding me over his bare thigh tattoo, our bodies slick with sweat, the sound of our groans and heavy breathing bouncing off the walls.
There’s a break in traffic. As he’s been struck, he suddenly sits up, more alert. The suddenly movement makes me sit up as well, broken out of my daydream. Harry slowly draws his hand away, putting both hands on the steering wheel, driving onto the main road.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, clasping my hands together in my lap. There’s a bit of awkward silence before I say, “Um, where should we get lunch?”
“Uh, I’m good with anywhere.”
“Okay.”
Harry’s phone goes off suddenly and he fishes the device out of his pocket. His ex wife’s name flashes over it.
He takes a deep breath and presses the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
I can hear her yelling and Harry winces, pulling the phone away from his ear. “I don’t have it anymore. Jesus, could you lower your voice? I said I don’t have it anymore. No, I didn’t sell it. I… Okay. I got rid of it.”
When she screeches, Harry pulls his phone away from his ear again, throwing me a comical look. He’s still enjoying this!
“Right, well I can’t do anything about it now. You can have your ring back, if that helps. I’ve no reason to keep it. Yeah. I’ll leave it in the mailbox. No, I'm not living there at the moment.” He glances at me again. “With Lucía. Yes, that one.” His jaw tightens suddenly and his eyebrows push together. “You didn’t have to say that.” And then he hangs up, placing his phone in his pocket.
“Sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don't be.”
He hesitates, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Feels like I’ve dragged you into this.”
“We’re friends, Harry. I’m here for you.”
“Yeah,” Harry says quietly, pulling into the parking lot of one of my favorite restaurants, “We’re friends.”
***
November 20
LUCÍA
The clock is very loud tonight.
After every 5 ticks, I hold my breath until the 6th one is heard, but I’ve been doing it for so long that I feel lightheaded. It’s been half an hour of me laying here. I’ve tried to put in my earbuds and listen to some music, but my body is tired and now I have a headache even though I was only listening to some soft classical music. Turns out that that specific genre only helps me when I’m more awake. My body is sinking into the mattress with fatigue right now, but that stupid clock is somehow getting ridiculously louder and I’m losing my mind. I can’t fall asleep on the 5th tick. I’ll tolerate any other number, but not five.
After a few moments of misery, I force myself up and throw my legs over the bed until I reach my slippers. There are earplugs in the room Harry’s sleeping in. I can sneak in there, grab a handful and come back and sleep before my meeting. Or, I can suffer through this night and then sleep better tomorrow. Or I can take the clock apart.
The third option doesn’t seem that smart, especially since I sleep with my phone away on the dresser and I need to look at the time when I wake up. And I really need to focus for the meeting tomorrow, so option two isn’t the brightest either.
I stand up. We’re going to his room.
It’s 2 in the morning so he should be asleep, but regardless, I’m on my tiptoes as I approach his room. His door is slightly open as it always is and the cold gust of air immediately greets me when I slip in. He’s opened the windows! In this weather! The man’s going to get sick.
Luckily, he’s sleeping on his side with his back to the drawer I’m now crouched in front of. As I’m rummaging through the drawers, I realize that Harry’s clock is far less noisy than mine. It’s just as close as mine is, but less audible. I could steal it if I wanted to.
But I won’t do that. I redirect my attention back to the drawer and begin pulling things out, setting them aside as I continue to look for the earplugs. The more I check, the more upset I become because I can’t find them. I don’t have my phone to turn on the flashlight and look with a bright light either, and I’m really cold in my pajamas thanks to the stupid window. A few snowflakes have already hit my skin and made me shiver uncontrollably.
Irritated that I’m not going to sleep tonight, I push to close the drawer. Unfortunately, I end up underestimating my annoyance and end up slamming it shut, the loud noise reverberating off the walls.
“Shit!” I whisper, whipping my head to glance at Harry.
His curly head picks up off the pillow and he twists his body to glance into the darkness. He might not be able to see me, but I can see him as the moonlight reflects off his face perfectly. When he pushes himself up, the weighted blanket around him slips to display his bare shoulder and collarbones.
“Luce?” he whispers, pressing a palm to his eye.
Maybe if I pretend I’m not there and stay as still as a statue, he’ll put his head back down.
“I can see you.”
Shit. I wrap my arms around myself, looking at him sheepishly. “Hi. Sorry. I was just looking for earplugs.”
At the sound of my voice, he picks his head up a bit more and then fully turns his body to face me.
“Why are you on the floor?” he asks quietly, clearly wanting to fall back asleep. “What’s...what’s the time?”
“It’s like 2. I was looking for earplugs,” I repeat. “My clock is being really annoying and I need to sleep before this meeting. But it’s alright, I’ll go back to my room and try again.” I balance my hands on his mattress and go to stand up.
“You don’t have any more?” he asks, watching me stand.
“No. I’ll get some tomorrow.” My attention is now divided. “Actually, can I steal your clock? You can have mine.”
Harry’s eyes finally fully open and he throws me a bewildered look. “My clock? What’s wrong with yours?”
“Nothing. You can have it.”
“Luce, either I’m still asleep or you’re not making any sense.”
“It’s too loud, okay?” I admit, sighing. “At this rate, I can get 6 hours of sleep and I need those 6 hours. I don’t know what to do.” I pick my head up and curiously look outside. “You think 7/11 is open during a storm?”
“Luce,” Harry says in an incredulous tone. “You’re shivering. I don’t think you could survive the walk.”
“Well, your window is open!”
“Right, but it’s always open. Come here. Sit on the bed at least. Jesus, woman.”
When he sits up some more, the blanket continues to slip down his torso to reveal his bare chest. I quickly look away.
“Sit,” Harry repeats more firmly.
“I can run to the shop.”
“I doubt anything would be open right now. It’s not supposed to stop snowing until 5 at least.” He stretches and yawns deeply. “Just sleep here then.”
I freeze, and for once it’s not from the cold. Harry’s rubbing his eye again with his palm, yawning again. I immediately feel guilty for waking him up. I know how deep of a sleeper Harry can be when he’s extremely tired.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” I quickly apologize. “I’ll let you sleep. You’ve got work too.”
“It’s fine,” Harry mumbles in his deep, sleep-filled voice. And then, to my surprise, he lifts the blanket and lays back down, holding it up as an invite. “Go on.”
I glance at the empty spot besides him and then the time and then the snow building up outside. “I don’t… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“‘S your choice. I don’t mind. It’s your house anyways.” Harry’s eyes are already closing and I feel like a burden just sitting here unable to make a decision. He’s nearly drifting off and I’m taking up his space.
But the clock in his room is barely audible and yes, it’s cold, but I know how heated Harry’s body can be. That mixed with the heat from the weighted blanket will send me straight to sleep. If I decide not to, I’ll be awake all night. I could take the clock in my room down, but then I’ll have to sleep with my phone under my pillow because I don’t have a nightstand like Harry does. And I’ve read too many articles about radiation and how harmful it is for your skin cells.
I peek over Harry’s shoulder. His phone is faced down on the nightstand. Another pro. It seems like the most logical choice.
“I need an alarm on,” I quietly tell him. “For 7.”
“I have one for 6:30. I’ll wake you after thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
I shut the window and lock it. My slippers easily glide off my feet and then I tuck my legs into the blanket, slowly sliding my body down. Harry hisses when my feet touch his shins and he quickly reaches out and grabs my calf, pushing it away.
“Christ. You’re so fucking cold.”
“Sorry!” I whisper. I look at him, unsure. “Can I have a pillow?”
Harry raises his head and slides me one as if it's the most natural thing. I tuck it under my head. “Thank you.”
“Mhm.”
“Let me know if I’m taking up too much space.”
“Go to sleep, Luce.”
“Okay,” I say, turning around, bringing my knees to my chest. Warmth invites me as I relax into the mattress. The sheets smell like Harry already. I feel his heat though he’s on the opposite side of the bed. His thigh is barely touching my heels.
And then, just for a brief moment, I’m freaking out. My palms are sweaty and I’m hyperaware of Harry’s body besides mine, somewhere it hasn’t been for years. Blood rushes in my ears and my throat’s as dry as it was in the car days ago. If I move in my sleep, I’ll accidentally touch him. He might be offended. I should get up and just leave.
I push back up into a sitting position and go to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but what stops me aren’t my own thoughts or the reminder that Harry’s clock is much softer than mine. No, it’s a sudden weight around my thigh, a familiar weight, and a man’s gentle whisper.
“Luce. Please sleep. We’ve slept in the same bed before. As friends too.”
His hand on my leg is arm and proven to be strong as he begins to tug me back to the mattress.
“I promise I’ll wake you,” he tries again faintly, as if he’s just a few moments away from sleep. “You need to sleep better. You’re like...like a zombie every morning.”
I can’t help but quietly laugh, rubbing my eye. “That’s so mean, Harry.”
“Lay down and sleep. I’ll stay on my side, alright? You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re making it worse on yourself. Stop hurting your body. Just lay down before I make you.” His tone lightens towards the end of his threat, but when he raises his head again, he can barely open his eyes.
The thought of being the reason for Harry’s dark circles in the morning makes me finally slide back into bed. I couldn’t carry that guilt. Harry removes his hand from my leg and then sighs, tossing his head back down onto the pillow. He mumbles something along the lines of, “Stubborn woman.”
To my relief, it’s easier to fall asleep that I’d anticipated, now that the anxiety has worn off. Or perhaps I’m just too tired to care.
Finally, I think to myself as I’m beginning to drift, drowsiness hitting me like bricks. I’m so warm. I’ll get up nice and refreshed, take a hot shower, get dressed, and do well for this presentation. I’ll come home after, make some good dinner, and then buy some earplugs and melatonin. Everything will be okay.
I’m nearly asleep when someone pushes the blanket further up my shoulder and tucks it under my chin. That’s better, I hazily think to myself. That’s so much better.
***
November 21
Harry’s arm is heavier than I recall, or maybe it’s just because I have blocked his weight and sleeping habits from my memories. Or perhaps that I’ve come to terms that I’ll never wake up to his situation again.
Regardless of how I’ve processed memories with Harry in the past, the pressing matter right now is that his arm is heavy on my stomach and I’m struggling to breathe.
I try to shove his arm lower, but then it’s pressing into my bladder, so I gently pick it up and move it back to his side.
The sun’s just barely out and no alarm has gone off. The clock tells me it’s 5:30. I’ve only been asleep for a little over 3 hours.
My first mistake is turning my head back to look at Harry. He sleeps with his hair up, something I never would have guessed about him. I swear he had it open last night. It’s a mistake because suddenly, I can't take my eyes off of him and my chest feels tight as if I can’t get enough air into my lungs. With his hair out of the way, I have a perfect view of his face. His eyebrows are relaxed, lashes resting beautifully against his cheeks, chest moving evenly with each breath. He’s simply mesmerizing. He’s on his side, the other hand shoved under the pillow we’re sharing, and the pillow part is the only thing that makes me realize that I’m on his side. He didn’t come to me, but rather I shifted towards him. Or maybe it was his doing, with his arm over my body.
The second mistake I make is turning my body around fully to face him because the movement causes his eyebrows to twitch and then he lifts his eyelids slightly, just enough to peer at me. I freeze, holding my breath, hoping he falls back asleep, but instead, he slides his arm back over my waist and gently tugs me closer.
“You’re cold?” he mutters, voice deep and groggy. He’s already closing his eyes again when he tucks me into his chest. “C’mere.”
My heart feels weak. I don’t want to move away, and perhaps it’s my third mistake that I settle into my new spot against his warm body. If I was cold before, I’m not anymore and there’s no chance I will be for the next hour and a half that I’ll get to sleep. He rests his head over mine, takes a deep breath, and then seems to have fallen asleep.
I don’t try to glance up at him, in fear that I’ll wake him again. Instead, I close my eyes and remind myself, strictly, that friends can cuddle with each other. Friends...who are also exes. This is normal. It has to be. It’s not like I can wiggle out of his grip now.
***
The next time I wake up is when Harry’s alarm goes off. It doesn’t feel like I’ve slept, but the sun outside is brighter, reflecting off the snow I presume. The warmth of Harry’s body slowly slips away when he goes to turn his alarm off, and then he sits up.
I hope I can sleep for half an hour more so I keep my eyes closed. Harry seems to be lounging in bed for a while, not jostling me too much. In fact, he moves to the other side and allows me to have my own pillow. I can feel his thigh against my head.
For a few moments, he’s completely still, and I think I have the opportunity to fall back asleep. However, he then puts his phone back on the side table and slides back into bed. I can feel him pulling the blanket back over his body.
When I open my eyes, he’s laying on his back, one arm resting over his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, clearing my throat. He lifts his arm and glances at me. And he’s a sight to behold. His eyes are puffy from sleep, his chest peeking out from under the blanket. He could be a painting. My heart isn't even fully awake, yet it's pounding painfully against my ribs at the mere glance at him. I look away, wanting to give him privacy and myself a momentary break from the emotions I've been feeling since last night.
“Office closed,” he says sleepily, rubbing his eye. “The storm hasn’t stopped yet.”
I push myself up, aware of his eyes on me, and check out the window behind the bed. Sure enough, the snow has piled up high enough to cover the benches outside and the wind is still blowing, now with a whistle to it. “It looks lovely.”
I reach for my own phone to check if I have any messages.
“My office is closed too!” The relief I feel is instant, I immediately slide back down into bed and bring my knees to my chest, my back to him. “We’re snowed in.”
Harry chuckles. When I glance back, his eyes are closed again and he looks as if he’s ready to fall back asleep. “We are. Now go back to sleep.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice.
And I’m about to fall back asleep, toasty warm, when Harry says something again. He murmurs, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I wasn’t able to keep my hands to myself. It’s a habit I haven’t been able to break since we… sorry. Usually I have another pillow, but you happened to be on the pillow, so...”
So it was his doing, I think to myself, slightly proud for not being the one to give into the temptation of touching him. I remember the Harry I'd met 6 years ago who hated cuddling at night. I'd transformed him immediately with my constant need to be held by him while sleeping. I shake my head. “It’s okay,” I tell him honestly. “I really didn’t mind.”
I feel him move my pillow as he nods. There’s a beat of silence that follows it, but then the bed’s dip becomes more apparent, along with the closeness of his body when he slides further into bed. And then with a soft, hesitating touch, he places his arm back where it was before, draping it over my waist.
My eyes shoot open to glance down at his tattooed arm, but I don’t dare to say anything. I don't even dare to breathe.
Harry says softly, “Is that alright?” My stomach erupts with both anxiety and butterflies.
I was warm before, but now I’m comfortable again. I nod and slowly slide back to make the position mimic how it was when I woke up the first time. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to make this weird,” he quietly admits, voice laced with sleep. “I haven’t slept well in so long and like this… I just sleep a lot better.”
“It’s okay, Harry.” I think I’m saying this. “We’re friends.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to the back of my head. “Thank you.”
Falling asleep like this feels addictive and I would be worried about this becoming a regular thing with an ex boyfriend if I weren’t so damn comfortable. And I agree with him. I sleep a lot better like this too.
I feel his soft breath on my neck and the firmness of his chest against the back of my shoulders. It feels right. The tension in my stomach is long gone before I fall back asleep.
***
Struck with deja vu the next morning, I find myself awkward and unable to do the most simplest of tasks. Such as walking around Harry to get to the coffee pot or apologizing to him when our fingers brush against the handle or when I’m reaching for a plate and accidentally get two, not realizing it until Harry points it out.
I’d woken up in the bed alone and I got up to get ready for work before I saw Harry’s well pressed pants, shirt, and tie hanging outside his closet as he always sets up before heading to bed the night before. He’s always claimed that he has no time to pick out outfits the morning of. I suspect he just wants to be better organized because he’s always lounging around before work anyways. He’s incredibly punctual yet early at the same time, a skill that I don’t think I will ever master.
He’s been generous in letting me sleep in, something I rarely ever do. His side of the bed is still warm and his pillow is resting vertically against the headboard that suggests he sat beside me for a while before getting out of bed.
When I find him in the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in his loose sweat pants and tighter long sleeve shirt, he sends me half a smile and says, “Good morning.”
I pause in the threshold of the kitchen, gripping the frame a bit too hard. He looks heartbreaking. I take him in as quickly as I can, alarmed by my shifting emotions. Just a month ago, I thought I was fully over Harry. How stupid was I?
I’m not sure how good of a morning it is. It’s a little awkward, and I’m trying my best not to step on his toes, but when I’m finally in the dining room with my coffee and scrambled eggs, I glance up at Harry, aware of his eyes already on me. He raises his eyebrows and wordlessly asks me what’s wrong.
My eyes then fall to his hands, his fingers tapping around the rim of his own mug, bare fingers pale and long. The clock behind my head is relentlessly loud and I suddenly consider taking it apart, as I’ve done to multiple other clocks in this house. All of it is so familiar, as if Harry and I have been in this time and space before, and when I look at him again, his eyes are softer.
“You’re freaking out,” he says, taking a slow sip from his coffee.
“Am I?” I reply, suddenly taken aback by how guarded I sound. “I am not. What would I be freaking out over?”
“Last night,” he easily supplies, placing his cup back down. “It’s alright. I wanted to apologize for it anyways. It was really unfair. Should have just given you my bed and let you sleep.”
“No. I should have just slept in my own bed. Especially after finding out that our offices were shut down.”
And as I’m saying this, I suddenly recall why this space between us feels so familiar. So awkward, yet manageable. It’s almost December, the month that my father died, and the month that I broke up with Harry almost four years ago.
He sees my expression shift. “Really, Luce,” he tries again, “it won’t happen again, so don’t freak out. Don’t kick me out, alright?”
I ignore that. “Do you remember the morning after we broke up?”
He pauses, eyes suddenly shaded and showing signs of concern. “Every second of it.”
“Do you remember how awkward it was?”
“Painfully so.”
I bring my cup to my lips, taking exactly three identical sips. “It was like this. How this morning has been. This is our morning after routine.”
He doesn’t say anything more, but I can tell my words have settled in his head when his frown eases and the hard lines of his mouth relax. He hasn’t shaved this morning, I think to myself, but he looks different for another reason. It’s the lack of dark circles under his eyes. He looks younger than he has in recent weeks. Well rested.
But finally, when he does speak, his tone is laced with humor. “It’s weird that it’s happened twice. But I think that if we’re able to get through the first awkward morning alive, we can get through this one too. After all,” he leans in with sparkling eyes, “we’ve been here before.”
“You know, most people would consider this super depressing.”
He leans back and pushes his sweater sleeves up his forearms. If he’s aware that my eyes are glued to his strong arms, he doesn’t say anything. His tattoos slowly reveal themselves one by one, and I sit there, simply and shamelessly drinking him in. “Well, let’s not spend our day off becoming depressed. How about we go out?”
“To shovel snow?”
“No no,” he smiles, crossing his legs. “Let’s go to the pond.”
The pond. It must be apparent how I feel about the place based on my expression. How much I resent that place, though I loved it once.
It’s where I broke up with him. I haven’t been there in 4 years despite it being one of my favorite places to visit. It’s walking distance, behind my house. Every time I walk or drive past it, it’s impossible to stop my stomach from falling as I recall all the good and bad memories I've made there. Harry has those same memories.
My eyes narrow and I tuck my shaky hands under my thighs. “Why the pond?”
Harry’s smiling even wider when he shrugs and raises his cup to his lips, raising an eyebrow at me from over the rim. “For old time’s sake?”
***
I don’t have anything to do today and with no excuse to present to Harry, I step out into the snow with my windbreaker, boots, scarf, and gloves. At first, it’s not that cold, but when a strong gust of wind blows after Harry’s locked the door behind him, I immediately regret not coming up with a good excuse.
Harry doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he grabs my elbow and creates the first footprints in the snow and tells me to step into them. I wobble behind him and together, we wait for the snow plow truck to pass. I realize Harry’s still holding my arm tightly as we cross the street, making sure we both stay close to the curb on the road rather than the unshoveled sidewalks.
“We should have hot chocolate when we get back,” he says, finally dropping my arm. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.
“I should take cold medicine when I get back.”
Harry grins at me. “You’re not getting sick. You’ve lived in Boston for 8 years and you’ve yet to fall sick in the winter.” He gives me a pointed look. “Now, your allergies are a different discussion. You’ll be fine.”
“The pond is going to be frozen,” I remind him, picturing the beautifully translucent ice. “There won’t be much to see.”
“I think there will be plenty to see.”
I peek up at Harry. The tip of his nose is already pink, his eyes watery from the wind. His pale skin looks beautiful, matching with snow piled up behind us. I look down at my gloved hands and then push my jacket up slightly to look at my own, tanner skin at my wrist. I push the sleeve back down when the wind blows, nearly knocking me over. Harry grabs my hoodie, pulling me back, laughing.
“Don’t laugh at me!” I hiss, smacking his hand away.
He holds his hands up in surrender and looks back at the street.
The temperature reminds me of how warm Harry’s body was, the heat engulfing me so well throughout the night. Not once did I feel uncomfortable or cold last night. He’d bundled me up, pressed his front against my back. And I’d let him because there was nothing more I wanted in that moment.
We arrive at the pond just a few moments later, and as I assumed, the water is completely frozen. It’s a large field of undisturbed white snow and Harry makes fresh footprints for me to follow, my legs sinking into his steps. He doesn’t grab my arm, but he does hold onto my jacket tightly. I don’t ask how far he’s taking us, because I know he’s interested in seeing the ice formed over the water. As expected, he stops at the water and then sits down on the fluffy snow.
It's beautiful, like a winter wonderland. The willow trees surrounding the area are covered in snow, icicles hanging off their stems like a fairy's house. One time, I'd come here with Harry, and he'd stood under those icicles, teasingly telling me nothing would happen to him, but I recall being terrified about the sharp points and how he'd bruise if they fell on him.
“Sit,” he tells me, smiling up at me. His eyes squint. “It’s not that bad.”
“I won’t be able to feel my ass afterwards.”
“You’ll be fine, Miss Dramatics.”
Reluctantly, I find myself sitting beside him. The cold hasn’t pierced my jacket yet and made my ass freeze. He brings his knees up to his chest and I do the same.
“It’s been a while since I was here,” he says, looking out at the pond. The city municipal has turned the fountain off and rightfully so. “Years, I think.”
“It’s been four for me,” I tell him quietly, thinking about all the fish and turtles in the water. Where have they gone?
“You never came afterwards?”
“No. I didn’t want to.”
Harry makes a sound in the back of his throat and then gathers some snow into his hand, creating a packed ball. He throws it into the pond and watches how the snow breaks as soon as it hits the ice. “I came here once a few springs ago. I think it was two years ago.”
I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. “With her?”
I suddenly can’t look up at him, afraid I’ll want to feel the warmth of his body again. There’s clearly a reason why his ex wife didn’t want us to embrace like normal friends. Perhaps she always knew how attracted I was to Harry years after our break up. I never thought it would be out of jealousy, but more out of possession. If Harry were still mine, I think I’d be the same way.
But Harry’s not mine. Why must I keep having to remind myself of the painfully obvious fact?
“Of course not,” Harry answers quietly, sounding hurt picking up more snow. “Why would I do that?”
I shrug. “It’s a public place and it’s pretty in the spring with all the flowers and the willow tree that--”
“It’s not a public place,” Harry suddenly interjects, tilting his head to look at me. “It was our place. We came here.”
I freeze, definitely not from the temperature this time. His eyes are cloudy despite how clear they should appear with the white background.
“Right,” I swallow tensely. “It was.”
He sighs and glances back at the pond. He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, a few seconds later, he wraps his arm around my shoulder, his hand resting on the side of my head, pulling me into his body. It’s as if he knew I was craving it. He removes his arm when my head touches his shoulder and then returns to his original position.
I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I want to turn and press my cold nose against his throat, just to hear him groan.
“Luce? Can I ask you something?”
Don’t ask why my heart’s beating so fast because I’m scared to admit the answer to myself, much less to you. “Hmm?” Real words will not happen today. He’s expecting too much if so.
Harry, goddamn him, doesn’t even waste a second. “Why did you break up with me?”
“Why did I break up with you?” It’s too early for this. I’m not prepared enough for this conversation.
“Yeah. I don’t think you ever told me why.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.” He sounds a little impatient now, as if angry that I don’t have the same memories as him despite us both being there. “I’ve thought about it often, but I never figured it out. I imagine it was something to do with your father’s death, but I couldn’t understand how it correlated with me. It’s not like I did something -- or said something insensitive -- that would make you upset enough to break up with me. And when you were doing it, I didn’t ask because, well, you looked really stressed about it. That, mixed with everything in your life at the moment, made me not ask.” He looks uneasily over my head. “I guess, I’m asking now. You never told me properly.”
He’s right. I’ve never told him. And he’s never asked.
“And,” he continues, taking advantage of the brief pause, “I realized after I started dating her that I missed my chance to ask what exactly happened between us.” He laughs a bit. I see his breath in the air. “I have been so confused for years.”
I’ve been unfair to him, thinking the reasons for the downfall of our relationship was clear. There’s no avoiding this conversation, not when he’s sitting there with nowhere to go, and not with my schedule completely clear for the rest of the day. It was coming. Had he planned this? Knowing him, he definitely had. He enjoys cornering people.
“Did you bring me here so I wouldn’t run away?”
Harry smiles wryly. “Yes. Now talk.”
“It wasn’t something you’d done. I don’t want you to think that.”
“Do you see how I could think that? For two years?” he says, leaning his head against mine.
I swallow. “Yes. And I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah.”
“I was very overwhelmed by everything happening and I suddenly didn’t want a relationship. It wasn’t ever about you or something you’d done. It was how I was reacting to everything going around me and, Harry, it was driving me insane. I was going to fly to Ecuador to see my family and help bury my father, but for a moment, I thought of leaving and never coming back.”
He speaks carefully. “And this wasn’t something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“No,” I answer immediately and he stills. “I couldn’t. I wanted to be alone.”
He glances down at his finger, rubbing the area where his ring once lay as if it were aching. “And how did that end up for you? Being alone.”
“I got to see you happy. Something you wouldn’t have been with me.”
He releases a slow breath. “Christ’s sake.”
“It sounds pathetic now. Given the whole--”
“Divorce.”
I feel flushed. “Right. But that was the whole thing. It wasn’t you.”
“It wasn’t you either.”
I shake my head. “No. I guess it was just the circumstances. I couldn’t control them and I knew it was going to have a strain on us so I wanted to prevent anything worse.”
“And you thought the best thing to do was break up with me.”
I want to pick my head up and look at him but his head on top of mine prevents that. “You’re upset with me.”
“No, Lucía. I’m angry at you.”
I wince. “Right.”
“I have a right to be, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” I answer immediately. “I don’t understand how you haven’t been angry for all these years.”
“I haven’t been angry until now. I just thought we were the type of couple to talk to each other about our problems. And the type of friends too. Why do I find out about things you go through myself? Why don’t you tell me? Your OCD has become worse, Lucía, and you try to hide it, but it’s not working. You need better help than your stupid therapist.”
“We broke up.” My voice is so small, I don’t recognize it as my own. “I couldn't tell you those things.”
And suddenly, as if Harry’s anger has dissipated, turns his body towards me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “God, Luce. It doesn’t matter what we are now. It matters that I’ve always told you to talk to me.”
Although there’s snow on his jacket, he’s still unreasonably warm. He leans his head on mine again and kisses the top of my head so softly, I want to cry out loud. But I wait until my throat opens up again to speak.
“To be fair, you asshole, you’re totally being a hypocrite.”
Harry’s chest rumbles when he quietly chuckles. “Am I?” he whispers in my ear.
“You didn’t tell me about your marriage problems until your divorce was nearly finalized.” I pick my head up off his chest. “You hypocrite.”
“No, but I have a valid reason. Thought it would be weird if I talked to my ex girlfriend about my marriage problems.”
“Why? Did you think I’d jump with joy?”
Harry’s eyes widen and he throws his head back as he laughs. I’m so relieved to see not a single speck of anger in his eyes. “God, no! I just thought it would be shitty of me. Especially after the whole wedding thing.”
“But as it turns out, you lost all your friends in the divorce and now I’m your only friend.”
“Hey,” he says, semi offended, but the smile still on his face, “I chose to drop those friends. They were covering for her!”
“Right.”
“Plus,” he continues, still smiling softly, “after your father’s death, I knew you had a lot on your plate, so adding my problems on top of that would just be unfair, don’t you think?”
“Are you telling me that we didn’t talk about our problems with each other for the same reason, Styles?”
“Wow,” Harry sighs, raising his eyebrows. “I guess we’re not so different at all. You should be angry with me too, then.”
I shake my head, admiring the melting snowflake that’s fallen into his eyelashes. “Hypocrite. I was never angry.”
“You’re a better person than me, then.” He removes his beanie from his head and gently puts it on mine, tucking my curls underneath. Immediately, he shudders from the cold. “Fuck’s sake.”
His hair is tied so his exposed neck gets hit by the gust of wind directly. He winces and stops my hands from taking the beanie off. “No, it's yours.”
Harry removes his hair tie and shakes his head so his own curls fall loose, covering his neck more securely. “Thank goodness for long hair.”
“Why did you decide to grow it out?” I ask him curiously.
Harry shrugs. “Dunno, but I’m too attached to it now. How are you feeling? Still freaking out?”
“No,” I answer truthfully.
Harry’s mouth curves up when he glances at me, nodding. He takes my face into his glove-covered hands, squeezes my head tightly until I whine, and then releases me. He stands up then, holding a hand out for me to grab onto. “Let’s go around the pond.”
Half an hour later, when we’re walking back, I see some people have put up Christmas decorations already. “Hey,” I suddenly realize. “It’s your birthday soon.”
“Mhm.” Harry’s more concerned about crossing the street safely. “Three days. Look, watch your step. That’s ice. Hold my arm.”
I hold him tightly. “I’ll bake you a cake.”
“Let’s worry about that later. Right now, I just don’t want you to slip.”
I slip twice by the time we get back home. Harry makes the hot chocolate, scolding me from the kitchen while I lay on the couch in the livingroom with a hot bottle under my ass.
***
November 24
HARRY
It’s impossible to drive far with another snow storm outside, our offices closed once more, so we chose to celebrate my birthday inside. Things have been different since the incident at the pond. Lucía has been sleeping in her own room again, but she’s also disarmed her clock and changed her curtains to make her room even darker.
Though I’d like for her to sleep in my bed, I don’t want to push her. I’ve come to terms with what I feel for her, and having her in my bed would only lead to things that I’m not sure we can recover from if she doesn’t feel the same way.
We’ve gone to the pond every day, and every day, I’ve held myself back from kissing her. It’s proven to be very difficult.
But today’s my birthday and I’m celebrating having a new start. With her. Lucía brings out my cake and places it in front of me in the living room.
“Will you sing to me?” I ask her, grinning. I pat the seat next to me and she falls into it. “It’s my first post-divorce birthday after all.”
“Absolutely not.”
“No?” I frown. “Fine. Let me make a wish then.”
I lean over and ponder for a moment before inhaling, ready to blow out the candles.
“Wait!” Lucía cries out, pushing my head away with a slam of her palm. “Not yet!”
I should have known my birthday would not go uneventful.
“Ow!” I hold my hand to my forehead. “What’s wrong with you?” I demand.
She’s leaning over the cake, carefully fixing the candles so they stand upright. As I watch her, incredulously I may add, I lean back on my palms. She’s made my favorite cake.
I ask her, “I’m turning 28 so why are there 29 candles on the cake?”
“It’s a better number,” she answers, sitting back when she’s finished. She’s burned herself a bit, pushing the injured finger into her mouth.
“But I’m not 29. I’m 28.” I reach over and cautiously pluck one candle up, blowing it out. “There.”
Lucía looks at the discarded candle I’ve laid on the table. Her disturbed expression gives it all away, but I lean onto my thighs and ask, “What is it?”
“I don’t like that.”
“I know. Why don’t you like it?”
“I just don’t.”
“Can we leave it as 28?”
Lucía shakes her head immediately. “No.”
“Why not? I’m 28, Luce.”
“It’s not right. We can say the extra one is for good luck.”
She’s worn her favorite sweater and jeans, her hair tied up like mine is. My cake says, “¡Feliz Cumpleaños, Harry!” She’s written it herself.
“What are you going to do when I turn 34?”
“Lose my mind.”
I can't help but smile a little at that. “Right. That’s a different concern of its own. What do you think is going to happen if I stick with only 28 candles?”
She glances up at me helplessly, twisting her sweater sleeves between her fingers. “Something bad. Can we just put the candle back on? The cake is melting.”
“I’m 28. Don’t make me older than necessary.”
“They’re just candles!” she exclaims, growing irritated now.
“Exactly,” I say gently. “Just candles. They aren’t tied to some great significance. They aren’t meant for anything but to blow out. I promise you that if I blow out 28 candles instead of 29, nothing is going to happen. Watch.”
Her eyes widen as I lean forward and inhale sharply before blowing out all 28 candles. “Harry, no!” I feel her tense up besides me. When I draw back, she looks angry.
“See,” I tell her quietly. “Nothing happened. The only bad thing that happened was that I turned 28 and I’m old.”
“You took a very big risk!” she says, hands formed into fists. “Don’t ever do that again! Not in front of me.”
I take a deep breath and rest my hand on her clenched one. “Lucía. They were just candles.”
“I know! I know they were just candles!” she growls, pressing her palms into her eyes when she pushes my hand away. “You don’t think I know that?”
I take a quick moment to assess the situation. “Luce, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell her earnestly, trying to keep my voice down. “I was just pointing out that you said it yourself. They’re just candles and they’re not going to cause any harm. To anyone. It’s been at least a minute since I blew them out, and look. Nothing’s happened. Because nothing is going to happen. Yes?”
“No.”
I sigh again, scooting closer to her, taking her hands away from her face. “We’ve got to try to break out of it. Even if it’s little things like this.”
“It was little to you.”
Her voice is hard and I suddenly fear that I’ve ruined her night. I tug on her wrists a bit, pulling her closer until I get my arms around her frame and pull her into my chest. After her head touches my collarbone, she relaxes a bit and lets me shift her escaped hair over her shoulder. Resting my chin on top of her head, I tighten my arms around her, closing my eyes. Her hair is freshly washed and smells as sweet as it always does, her curls soft and bouncy.
“Sorry,” I tell her sincerely, rubbing her back. “Can we go back to celebrating my birthday?”
“That’s what I wanted.” Her voice is still firm but it cracks at the last word. I open my eyes when she picks her head up and sends me daggers with her narrowed, dark eyes. Her eyelashes are so thick that I can barely see the whites of her eyes. “But you had other plans.”
I laugh, bringing my palms to her face and pressing her cheeks together. “I’m sorry, love.”
A blush spreads over her face and I feel her skin under my hands grow warmer. I release her face after that and let her put an appropriate distance between us. I’ve made her nervous, I think, placing my hands in my lap. But she doesn’t say anything about it, reaching for the knife and pressing it into my hand.
“Here.”
“Cut it with me.”
She shoots me a look. “That’s okay.”
“What? There’s a rule about that too? Have to cut it at a certain angle or else I’ll combust on the spot?”
“It’s not funny!” Lucía says, smiling. “Just cut it, will you?”
I hold the knife against the cake and then reach over, picking up her hand, laying it flat on mine. And then to make sure she doesn’t take her hand away, I sandwich it between my other one and then firmly press down on the knife. We cut another portion.
Lucía pulls her hand away and says, “I’ll plate it for you.”
“I’ve got it.”
“No. Let me.”
She seems insistent, so I pull away and let her take control. She expertly puts the cake into the plate beside her and then picks it up. However, instead of handing it to me, she picks some up with her hand and before I can fully register where that piece is going to end up, she comes closer and smears it over my cheek and neck.
The coldness of the cream makes a shudder run through my body and a groan, closing my eyes at the thick cream falling from my face and into my lap.
“Okay,” Lucía says, putting the plate back down calmly. “I feel a lot better now.”
I lick my fingers after wiping my face. “I bet you were waiting for that all day.”
She smiles at me. “Actually yes. You just happened to piss me off at the best time.”
“Right. Luckily for you, I have a heart and I won’t smash your face into the cake that I want to eat.” There’s cake in my eyelashes and every time I blink, pieces of it fall out onto my lap. Lucía just watches it happen for a while before handing me a napkin. My face is all sticky now. My fingers too. Cautiously, I plate a slice for myself.
Strawberry shortcakes are my favorite. I love the sourness of the strawberries. “This is really good! Your baking skills have gotten better since last time.”
“Hey!” she says, offended. “That cake for your 25th wasn’t that bad!”
The ganache was so thin, it was slipping off the cake as I tried to cut into it. And the cake was dry. “It was awful,” I tell her. “Maybe chocolate cakes aren’t your specialty.”
“You have no right to say that. You’ve never baked a cake.”
I swallow. “Ah, but I worked at a bakery.”
“You worked at the register!”
She takes a bite herself and nods, satisfied. “Yeah, that’s really good. Look, I’m eating your name.”
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “I love this.”
By this, I mean both the cake and the little moment we’re having together, though she won’t be able to distinguish between both things. I watch her face as she bites into a strawberry.
“I wish I could have done more for you.”
“It’s alright, Luce. I’m happy. Though, I’ve got to go change my clothes now. Give me a second and I’ll be right back.”
She nods when I stand up, the cold cream still making me shiver. I head to my room and pull out my duffel bag that’s yet to be unpacked. I’ve run out of sweaters so I take my shirt off and put another one on. The room is dark; I’ve refrained from turning the lights on since the white snow mixed with the setting sun outside illuminates the room enough for me to not bump into furniture. I feel for more fabrics in my duffel bag, but none of them are the sweaters I want.
“Hey, Luce?” I call out to her, peeking my head out the door. “Do you have any extra sweaters that might fit me?”
Should I also change my pants? They’re not too dirty, but I feel as if the icing will harden where it fell. As I’m pondering this, the floorboards creak behind me and when I turn, Lucía is there, holding something in her hands.
“I have this hoodie from before,” she says, holding it out towards me. In the dark, the only thing I can make out is her wild hair and silhouette. “I never gave it back to you after we broke up.”
I take the hoodie from her and turn it in my hands. “I’ve been looking for this!” I laugh. I pull it over my head and sigh, undoing my hair. I shake my head to let it fall evenly. “Thanks. I’ll give it back later.”
“Oh. No, that’s okay. It’s yours anyways.”
“You've had it for four years. Pretty sure that means it’s yours now.” It smells like her. A mixture of her shampoo and body wash.
Lucía doesn’t move out of the way, making no effort to head back downstairs. I don’t know what she’s waiting for, so I stay there too, the silence between us right on the edge of discomfort. Should I say something? Is she upset that I’m not keeping the hoodie? I’m waiting for something, but when she doesn’t say anything, wrapping her arms around herself as if she’s cold, I step forward.
“You alright?” I ask her quietly, resting my hands on her shoulders. I think she looks up at me.
“Did I ruin your birthday?” she whispers so softly I barely hear her. “With the candle freak out thing?”
Under normal circumstances, I’d laugh, but she sounds so insecure and worried, I don’t dare to even smile. “No. You didn’t ruin anything. I thought I ruined it.”
“I’ve ruined a lot of things between us. I thought by making a cake for you, I’d apologize, but I only made things worse.”
For a moment, I’m too stunned to say anything. But then, she takes a step forward and carefully finds my hoodie and then the strings. She holds onto it tightly. “I’m sorry, Harry. I really am.”
Every ounce of my self restraint goes out the window. I don’t know what part of her I grab or how I find her mouth in the darkness, but I do know the relief I feel when my lips touch hers and her hand tightens around my hoodie, instantly drawing me closer. She tastes like the tart strawberries with a hint of the whipped cream, the opposing tastes making me hungrily want her even more. And as I kiss her, I wonder how the hell I was able to keep my distance from her for four fucking years.
***
LUCÍA
He’s familiar. I know how he tastes, I know how warm his mouth feels on mine, and I know what causes these desperate kisses he keeps leaving on my skin even though I’ve broken my lips from his.
We’re both breathing heavily, my own heart pounding in my ears. I’m relieved that the lights aren’t on because Harry would be very worried if he looked at my face now. He’s already worried, speaking to me in a gentle voice.
“Luce, you okay?” Harry murmurs, gently rubbing my back. I clutch his hoodie harder without realizing, and then release it when my knuckles start to hurt. “Hey. It’s alright. It was just a kiss.”
It wasn’t just a kiss. How could it ever be just a kiss? “It wasn’t,” I say quietly, stepping away. “It wasn’t just…”
“It’s okay. We can talk about it. We can talk right now. Come here. Let’s sit down--”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
I can imagine the hurt that passes over his face for a second before his eyes soften and go back to concern. “You want to talk here?”
My mind is spinning. I always thought I’d be the one who’d end up kissing him. Now that it’s him, it feels too temporary. It wasn’t just a kiss.
“It was years, Harry. What am I supposed to do about all those years?”
Harry pulls away and strides to the lamp, flickering it on. Then, he returns to me, his big hands resting on my back. He’s not as confused as I am for some reason. Instead, everything is clear on his face, his normally stormy eyes more soft and his mouth slightly open. His chest is still rising and falling quickly and I can’t be imagining the way his eyes keep flickering down to my own mouth and back to my eyes.
“Harry. No.”
“Yes, Luce.”
“I don’t want to be your rebound. I don’t want to be your second choice.” I’m speaking without registering the words, but I feel myself returning to consciousness when the smile slips from Harry’s face and his eyes widen.
He’s clearly disturbed, holding his breath, his shoulders tense. “What? What did you just say?”
“I never want to be your rebound. I want to be your...your person.” I can’t stop. “And I have been a good friend. I’ve been patient. I’ve watched you get married and I’ve watched all this shit happen in your life. I don’t want to be your second choice just because you’re hurt.”
“Lucía.”
“I want to be so much more to you!” I tell him, feeling the long restrained anger bubble inside of me. “I didn’t want you to get married. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to love you for so long. I don’t want this! You’re being unfair to me!”
“Stop. Lucía.” Harry’s warm hands slowly cup my jaw and he pulls me closer with a quick tug. “Hey. Listen.”
I feel all ten of Harry’s fingers on my face, splayed out evenly. That’s good. His hands fit perfectly. My mind can focus on that and not be irritated like it would have been if he’d only placed one hand on my face. It’s even.
“When I say it’s just a kiss, I’m not implying it's meaningless. I’m saying that it’s no reason to freak out. We’ve kissed before. It was just one kiss. Not something new between us.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished though I know he’s right. No reason to freak out. We’re mature adults. We know how to have a conversation. He’s right that we’ve kissed before.
“As for the other thing,” Harry continues, his voice significantly softer. “Luce. I married my rebound. Don’t you see that? It was supposed to be you. You and I were supposed to get married, remember? And then I was the one who fucked up.”
“You didn’t fuck up,” I whisper quickly. “You loved her.”
“I think I did,” he says with a small smile. “But all the choices I made after you and I ended things were wrong and I’m dealing with the consequences now. Besides, I’m really not the good guy you’re making me out to seem. I married someone while I was in love with another. Is that fair to any of the three people involved in this? Was it fair to any of our families? Or friends? Luce, I made many mistakes.”
“No, you didn’t,” I insist, placing my hands over his. “You moved on and I was happy for you. You were with her and you were happy and I was happy.”
Harry tilts his head and releases a slow breath. “So what went wrong?”
“Nothing! That’s just what it is. And we can’t change that so I can’t be this person for you.”
“What kind of person, Luce? What do you think I want from you?” he whispers, shaking his head, leaning down a bit. “You assume you’re one thing for me and I’m standing here telling you it’s not true. You are not my rebound. You are not my second choice.”
He looks sincere, the corner of his mouth tilting up slightly. Both his thumbs push my jaw up slightly. “Luce. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“I just don’t want you to settle. For me,” I push out despite the words not wanting to, looking away from him. “Because she was so good. And I’m…”
“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that.”
“It’s true. I’m not--”
Harry’s brows pull in. “I settled for her. Can you believe me? I was that stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.” I can’t bear the thought of him thinking that low of himself. “I was. For breaking up with you.”
He nods. “Yes, you were stupid for that one. Hey. Listen to me. I’m about to kiss you again.” I don’t have time to get another word in before he’s pressing his mouth to mine softly, dropping his hands to my waist. “You were stupid, but I understand why you needed it,” he whispers in between kisses. “But I hated it.”
“But you--” I can’t talk between the kisses since he’s the one controlling them so I step back. “Harry. I don’t want you to rush into things. It’s all so soon.”
“It’s not,” he says quietly. “I want to apologize. Will you let me?”
“You shouldn't! You were happy! You shouldn’t do something for me just because I want you.”
“You don’t think I want to be with you? Luce, can you let me be happy and let me make you happy?”
He waits as the words settle into my head. He’s not settling for me. He said it himself. And he wants me. Damnit, he wants me. I don’t want to marry him right now. Isn’t that what he wants? To settle down?
“I don’t want to marry you right now,” I blurt suddenly. “Maybe...maybe in a while, but not now.”
Harry’s face breaks out into a big smile when I wrap my arms around his torso. He feels like home, body pressed up against mine. “You think marriage is on my mind right now? Maybe you don’t know me at all.”
And then I say the next thing I'm most worried about. My face feels red from embarrassment, but the words come out before I can stop them. “It feels like me breaking up with you was the reason you got into a relationship right after and got married and then eventually divorced. It feels like I was the reason--”
Harry clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I just told you not to do that. Don’t ever do that. Come here.” And then he kisses me again, front to front, warmth against warmth, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin, soft curls tickling the frame of my face. His kisses are so cautious but still exciting, and I push myself up onto my tiptoes, moving my arms to wrap around his neck. He smiles, just barely, and pulls away for a quick breath before kissing me again. I feel as if I’m about to burst, my legs weak, and my heart so full, I can’t stand it.
When he pulls away, he murmurs, “That was 7, by the way. 7 kisses.”
“I wasn’t even counting,” I breathe, pressing my face into his hoodie. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have no idea, Luce, how much I’ve missed you,” he says quietly, pressing a final kiss to the top of my head. “Are you alright now? No more freaking out?”
“No more freaking out,” I confirm quietly. “I’m good.” It may not be a complete lie.
“You sure? Won’t give yourself a nosebleed, will you?”
I have to kiss him again, so I do. I tangle my fingers into his hair and kiss him softly, tasting the remains of the strawberry shortcake on him. And when he kisses me back, matching my slightly desperate energy, I feel loved and cherished for. I know I feel happy at that moment.
And then I feel a different, more urgent emotion when Harry’s hand slides down to my waist and tugs me close, capturing my mouth with his once more, wet, soft, and delicious. His other hand slides up to cup the back of my head to silently tell me that if I have any plans to run away, think again. I don’t think I can’t tear myself away from him anyways, and I repeat the words to him when my hands hold his hoodie tightly between my fingers, drawing him impossibly closer. It’s similar to how I grabbed his collar at court. He seems to enjoy the motion, tilting his head and pressing his tongue past my lips.
Electricity zips through my body at his choice to deepen the kiss, but I push myself onto my tip toes and press back with the same amount of intensity. He breaks apart to steal a quick gulp of air, the sound he makes a cross between a moan and a whimper. I open my eyes briefly and watch him, but his eyes are still trained on my mouth. The hand pressed against my hair tugs me back so his lips fit against mine again.
“Come here,” he whispers, tilting his head again. “Come to me, Lucía.”
The sound of my name falling from his lips makes my knees weak and I’m instantly glad he has such a bruising hold on me, preventing me from falling to the floor. When his hand slips just slightly and rests above my ass, I take a deep breath and gently touch the drawstring of his hoodie and then the collar. His eyes open when I pull on it weakly.
“That’s what you want?” he breathes, drawing back just enough for me to be able to see his light eyes. He presses his tongue to the corner of his mouth and I’m instantly mesmerized by it.
“Yes,” I whisper, pressing kisses to his neck. I don’t like how far he is. “Would that be alright? I’ve been really patient.”
Harry’s frame shakes when he laughs quietly, cupping my jaw between his hands. “Yes, you have, haven’t you?”
I nod, pulling on his hoodie some more. “Would it be alright?” I repeat.
His smile remains wide as he bites his lower lip and nods, stepping away from me and pulling the hoodie off his body. He’s left in a thin black shirt, but I barely have any time to comprehend how attractive he looks when he draws me closer and begins to undo the button on my jeans. My breath hitches at the thought of what we’re about to do, and he glances at me, halting his movements.
“What is it?”
“I’m just so excited,” I whisper, reaching for his drawstrings at his joggers. “I want to go slow, but at the same time… at the same time I want to…”
Harry’s smile returns and he slowly drags the zipper of my jeans down. “I know what you mean,” he says quietly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. “I’m not sure how to go about this either.”
I swallow. “Maybe we can go slow and just see how we feel about that. I don’t want to rush.”
“I don’t want to rush either, Luce. We’ll take our time, then.” He reaches for my sweater next, and I put my arms up to let the material pass easily over my head. He tosses the white sweater to the side and takes a step back, his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth again. His eyes move darkly over my torso. “Fuck’s sake,” he says under his breath. “Lucía. You can’t do that to me. I’m not strong enough.”
My hands reach out for him, trembling a bit with excitement. “Your turn now.”
As he removes his shirt, he admits, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You get to see all of me now.”
He tosses his shirt away too and then tugs me back to him with his fingers around my belt loops. “Don’t be so far from me,” he quietly complains, kissing my mouth again. He walks forward until the back of my knees hit the mattress and then we tumble onto it. I softly laugh into the kiss, throwing my arms around him.
He doesn’t waste any time pulling me up to secure my body fully on the bed. “Now,” he whispers against my jaw, pressing a faint kiss there, “I’m going to do what I was made to do.” He hovers over me. “Worship your body.”
The first kiss pressed to my sternum causes a shiver, but the next few kisses cause giggles. I feel his lips pull into a smile when I tangle my fingers into his curls to keep them from falling over his face. He bites down on my stomach lightly as a thanks. He turns his head and presses a kiss to my wrist before returning his attention to the task at hand. He licks his lips and presses them softly to my stomach and ribs, glancing up at me between every few kisses. When my breath hitches, it’s when he’s biting down on my bra and pulling it away from my chest. He lets it snap back and then finally fingers the strap around my shoulders.
“Gonna pull this down,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder and then earlobe. “How’s that sound?”
“Really good,” I whisper, still holding his hair. “I’d like that very much.”
Harry chuckles and then gently drops both straps and then I arch my back so he can get to the clasps behind my back. It feels natural to be undressed by Harry. Any nerves I’m feeling right now are out of pure excitement and impatience, not fright or unease. Before the material falls away from my body, I gasp at the cold air and say, “Wait! Can you grab the blanket?”
“‘Course.” He drapes the thick blanket over us and then finally pulls the bra away from my body, cheekily flicking it somewhere over his shoulder. I can’t help but giggle when his warm mouth continues to press kisses to the newly exposed area, creating a contrast to how the cold air feels. I’ve got goosebumps and around my breasts, but Harry gently kisses or massages them away with his palm. “Better?” he murmurs, picking his head up to grin at me.
“So much better,” I whisper, tucking his hair away again.
“Is my hair annoying you? I can tie it. I mean, I will have to when I fuck you or I’ll lose my mind. It tickles too much and it’ll get in your face.”
I open my mouth to answer, but the way he casually says “when I fuck you” renders me completely speechless. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, but hearing him say it and watching his mouth curve around the words excited me further and the impatience inside me grows intensely. That’s what I’ve been wanting from him, I realize, remembering the times where I dwelled on his hands on my body, his kiss on my cheek. I want that and more.
“No,” I manage. “Leave it out until you fuck me.”
My words seem to have the same effect on him. He breathes out a laugh and bends down to kiss my collarbones, his hands falling below to work on my jeans. They’re a little harder to get off, but Harry manages fine with a mix of his relentless tugging and my kicking, and soon my legs are bare and I’m left in my underwear.
“If I had thought,” I start with a gasp, watching him kiss the inside of my thighs, “that I’d be sleeping with my ex tonight, I would have worn cuter underwear.”
Harry hums, moving up to rest on his knees as he begins to pull his joggers down. He’s wearing the same tight black underwear he’s always worn, and he purses his lips. “Can’t relate. Yours are still cute. You have to remember: I’ve seen all your underwear, even the embarrassing ones.”
“But you haven’t seen the newer ones!”
“Knowing you, they can’t all be that bad.” He peeks down at my current one. “This one’s cute.”
“Wasn’t trying to go for cute, but thank you.”
He notices that my eyes are trained below his waist. Instead of making a comment about it, he takes my hand and gently presses it to his crotch, swallowing when I give him a squeeze.
“Good thing I know how to make you feel good,” I whisper, sitting up a bit to reach him better.
“It’s been a while,” he murmurs back, flexing his jaw when I slowly begin to palm over his length. “Do you even remember?”
“I do,” I tell him. “I think about it all the time.”
Surprise lands over his face. “Yeah? What do you think about?”
I push him down to the mattress, landing a thigh on either side of his hips. “I think about whether or not people have been able to please you like I used to.” He grabs onto my hips and pressing his fingers deeply, groaning softly and throwing his head back when I experimentally rock my hips against his. “Because for me, Harry, nobody’s been able to do it like you.”
“God,” he says weakly, lifting his head to watch my movement on him. “Warn a man before you say filthy things like that.”
His hair is now fanned out over the pillow and the setting sun colors his face dark orange and pink. The sunsets in the winter are always more colorful for some reason, and I thank the sun for the impeccable timing. I thought he looked like a painting while asleep, but he looks like a fucking masterpiece now. I can’t help but look around for any imperfections. Finding none, I lean down and brush a kiss to his jaw.
“Harry,” I whisper, smoothing my fingers over his strong brows. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have no idea,” he whispers back. I feel his throat move against my mouth as he swallows. “You have no fucking idea, Luce.”
“I want you to show me. And I’ll show you.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” His fingers are still squeezing my waist.
“You want to be on top?”
“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this position. Love feeling you on top of me. But I want to see you under me.”
The words slice through me ruthlessly. He sits up and allows me to roll off, adjusting himself in his boxer briefs. He takes a deep breath and then glances at the side table. “Do you have any condoms?”
I’m mesmerized by all his tattoos. They’ve been hidden from me for years. It takes me a second to answer. “They’re in the bathroom.”
He groans and looks at the bathroom door across the room. “It’s so far!”
“It’s not!” I laugh, pressing kisses to his jaw, holding his face. “It’s a little cold, sure.”
“Why don’t you keep them in the drawer anymore?”
“What am I supposed to do with them?”
Harry turns his gaze on me. “Don’t tell me they’re expired, Luce.”
“Well, the only way to know is to get up and check.”
Harry groans again, more dramatically, but he pushes the sheets off his body anyways and shudders, walking over to the bathroom. I hear him shifting things around in the bathroom before he returns to me, waving a packet. “One. You have one left, Lucía.”
“The lone survivor.”
“How much sex were you having, woman?”
“I should be asking you that considering you were married.”
“Don’t,” he says, raising a hand gesturing to me to stop talking. “Don’t bring up my sex life with her.”
I embrace him to my chest when he slips back into bed. “It was that bad?”
“Now that I think of it, everything was bad. You know what? I have an idea. Let’s refrain from speaking about the demon bitch while we’re in bed together. How’s that sound?”
His mouth is warm against mine when I kiss him. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”
“That’s what I thought. Because if you keep talking about her, I’m going to go soft.”
He lifts his head for air and then gently parts my legs so he can rest between them. And then he grabs a pillow, pushing it under my hips for some elevation. Everything becomes serious and more quiet when his long fingers dip into the waistband of my underwear and gently tug the cotton down.
Harry slowly lowers himself, and despite the direction he’s going in, the first swipe of his tongue makes me jolt, and if it weren’t for Harry’s warm hands on my thighs, I would have injured him purely from surprise. I gasp, tightening my fingers in his hair immediately as I’d always done years ago, feeling his familiar tongue press against me, lapping, and his mouth gently kissing.
“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing the blanket down despite the cold so I can get a good look at him. His eyes are on me, eyelashes tickling my skin. “Harry.”
He still manages a confident smile even with his mouth on me. When he pulls away, he licks his lips and then presses a wet kiss to my thighs, biting down gently too.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Just wanted to hear you.”
I swallow, tucking his hair back. “Don’t apologize for that.”
His dimples deepen when he drags the kisses back up my sternum and then neck. Everything about him feels the same, from his kisses to his scent to his almost overwhelming weight. He gently grabs my face and kisses my mouth.
“Let me fuck you?”
“You don’t have to ask me, Harry,” I groan, feeling his free hand trail back down between my legs. I wrap my legs around his waist. “You know what I want.”
He hums. “Promise I’ll spend more time with my face between your legs later. I’m trying to be patient, Luce, but I just--”
“I know. I know. I’m trying too, but it’s really hard. It’s been so long.” A slow sigh leaves me when he presses his middle finger inside me. I slowly release a long breath. “Tie your hair up,” I implore softly. “Please, just tie it.”
He doesn’t listen to me, instead pressing a second finger into me, marveling at my whines. “Don’t wanna hurt you. Need to make sure you’re ready.” Since he refuses to do as I say, I take the hair tie from around my own wrist and gather up all his hair before twisting and creating a bun, securing the hair on his head. It’s messy but it gets the job done. Harry chuckles, probably at my desperation.
“Harry,” I say, trying my best to sound firm. “I was ready yesterday.”
“Really?” he muses, smiling. “Should have jumped my bones then.”
“Harry, I’m serious.”
“Alright.” He gently pulls his fingers out and then pulls his own underwear down, watching my face as I watch the skin get revealed inch by inch. “The look on your face,” he breathes, reaching for the condom. “You really are ready, hmm?”
I wrap my trembling arms around his neck and pull him down, my heart beating wildly. He parts my legs once more and says, “Lucía, at least look at my face.”
My throat feels dry, but one look into Harry’s eyes and I feel much more relaxed. He presses my head back down into the pillow, and I hadn’t even realized I was sitting slightly up to watch him roll the condom on. “You alright?” I ask him, though I don’t need to, because he gives me a beautiful smile as an answer and then takes a hold of himself, gently pushing into me.
He mutters a swear while I gasp, and he immediately takes my hands away from his neck and laces our fingers together, holding our joining hands above my head. He continues to move, monitoring my face, until he’s fully inside. The familiar pleasure warms my body, welcoming Harry back into the place he’s always belonged. The sun, now no longer pink but just a pale yellow, hits his hair and the side of his face that once more reminds me how breathtaking he is.
I have to tell him this. “You are so beautiful,” I whisper, closing my eyes briefly when he pulls away and then presses back in. My eyelids lift. “You are so perfect. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. You are so…”
“Lucía,” he murmurs, pushing my hair off my forehead with a quick sweep of his thumb. “You’re being unfair.”
“Am I?” I answer faintly, unable to take my eyes off his face. “I think you need to know.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up and his eyebrows raise when I moan softly at him pressing back a few more times. “I know, my love,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my right eyebrow. “I can see it all over your face.”
“Good,” I reply, squeezing his hands. “You should know. I can’t believe I let you go.”
My eyes flutter shut again when he kisses my other eyebrow and then my cheekbone, all the way down to my jaw. And then he repeats on the other side. In that moment, I feel so loved. I realize that my loneliness was never going to be cured by just anyone. It would only be cured by Harry.
I open my eyes and push up, catching his lips as they descend their way down to my neck. He makes a startled noise of surprise, but melts into my kiss.
“You feel so good,” he says into my mouth. “There’s nobody like you. It was always you, Luce. I was so fucking stupid.”
“No! No, it wasn’t you. It was me. All me.”
Harry presses his face into my neck and releases my hands, instead pushing his arms under my body and holding me tight against his chest. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him, burying my moans into his shoulder.
He moves effortlessly inside me, slowly, but meaningfully. At some point, Harry’s pace is so slow and his grip so tight, I can’t breathe, too overwhelmed by him taking up all my senses. I kiss whatever amount of skin I can reach, greedily. His own lower groans and grunts sound heavenly to me, and I close my eyes, content with his taste on my tongue, his sounds in my ear, and his weight on my body. At some point it’ll be difficult to breathe again, but I’m not too concerned about it. I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.
The only thing that breaks me out of this trance is a wet feeling on my shoulder and neck. My blood goes cold. For a moment, I just let Harry hold me tighter, but when his shoulders start trembling, I pass a hand over the back of his neck.
“Harry,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple. “No. Please, mi ángel. Please don’t cry.”
He takes a deep, trembling breath.
“Harry, baby.”
It takes him some time to begin talking to me again, but his hips ever stop moving, never stop giving us both the pleasure we’ve denied ourselves of for years.
“Love you so much,” he finally says quietly, picking his head up. His eyes are watery, breaking my heart as soon as he makes eye contact with me. “I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea. Every day. It was torture every single fucking day.”
I’m so happy that his hair is out of the way as I can see him perfectly. When he blinks, some of the moisture on his lashes hits my face, but I don’t move to wipe it away from my skin. Instead, I use my palms to wipe his eyes, pushing up to kiss his mouth.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper, my own eyes beginning to water. “Please don’t cry, Harry. I can’t handle that. You know I can’t.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, stuttering on a laugh. “I can’t stop, Luce. I can’t. You’re all I fucking wanted and I didn’t have you for so long.” He glances down at where we’re connected, giving me a generous, deep thrust. I gasp, throwing my head back. He cups the back of my head immediately to soften the blow against my pillow though it wouldn’t have injured me anyways. “You are so beautiful. You have no right to call me beautiful when you look like that.” My eyes cut to his again. “I’ve missed you. Sometimes….sometimes I’d wake up in the middle of the night and I’d expect you to be next to me.” A fresh wave of tears form in his eyes. “But it was never you, Luce. And I wanted it to be you so bad. I wasn’t ever the good guy if I wanted that. I wasn’t a good husband.”
“Harry,” I manage through a groan. “Stop. Stop saying that about yourself. It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does,” he says quietly, cupping my jaw. “Look at me. Hey. It matters because you think you’re my second choice. Or my rebound. Lucía. Lucía, that’s not true. It was never true and it’s not ever going to be true. It was always you.” With the last word, he gives me a rougher thrust that has me closing my eyes and relishing the pleasure.
He continues, “I’m not even upset about this stupid divorce. I was more upset when we broke up. Do you see? It’s always been you.”
I drag him back down to me with weak arms, kissing his face over and over, tightening my legs around his waist. “Harry,” I whisper, burying my face in his neck. “Don’t blame yourself, please. It was my choice to break up with you after all. And you didn’t even know why until recently. I’m at fault mostly.”
Harry smooths a hand over my hair and then bunches it together, tilting my head back so he can kiss my neck. Although he’s no longer crying, I can feel the emotion behind those kisses, enough to make me want to cry as well.
“You did what you felt was right. I can’t be angry with you about that.”
“You were angry before.”
“I was,” he admits quietly, kissing my forehead. “But I love you too much to be mad at you for so long.” He moves so deliciously inside me, I nearly forget to breathe. “Let me do you right. Let me make you cum.”
“Now you’ve got my attention,” I tease. In response, he cups my jaw and kisses me deeply while increasing his pace. At some point, however, it becomes hard to keep up with his kisses due to how demanding they are. Too overwhelmed to kiss him back, I whimper into his mouth instead, struggling to keep my sounds to myself. Harry’s driving them out of me.
My legs tremble at the intensity and when Harry releases my face, he places his hands on my waist and begins manually moving me on him. I suspect he’s a little tired, so I raise my hips to help him despite the burn already forming in my legs. He flashes me an appreciative look.
“When was the last time you had an orgasm?” he asks, pressing his thumb against my clit, slowly circling. The movement makes me whine and grab the bed sheets. “Oh, you are so beautiful, my Lucie.”
“I think it’s been...it’s been a week. It’s been a little hard with you around, if I’m honest.”
“Really?” Harry asks breathily, interested. “Why?”
“Well.” I feel my face grow hot. All I can hear is our skin slapping and his low groans. “I’m so used to m-my own place with nobody around. It’ll be an adjustment to try to keep my...my noises to myself.”
Harry lets out a laugh and then tilts his head back, uttering a swear under his breath. “You know I wouldn’t mind.”
“I would,” I whisper, shutting my eyes tight. “Fuck, Harry. Harry.”
“Can feel it. Squeezing me so tight, love. Go ahead. I want to feel it all over me.”
The orgasms I’ve had without Harry don’t even begin to compare to how intense this one is. Harry holds me to his chest, working me through the orgasm, letting me bite down on his shoulder harshly. My wrists hurt from how tightly I’m holding his neck. Tears erupt in my eyes at how well cared for I feel. His fingers run through my hair and he quietly laughs when they get stuck in my curls. “Thank you,” I whisper, because I don’t know what else to say. “Thank you. I love you.”
Harry presses a kiss to my hair and then softens his hold on me, still not letting go. He thrusts only a few more times before burying his own head in my neck to muffle his groan, stilling inside of me. He whispers swear after swear, and then finally ends with murmur of: “Love you so much, Luce.”
I don’t want to let him go yet, no matter how badly my arms are aching. He pulls out of me, and lifts his head, cupping my jaw when kissing me softly.
“Two seconds,” he whispers. “Just give me two.”
I swallow and nod, reluctantly letting him go, wiping away my tears. His eyes soften at the sight of them, and as soon as the condom is discarded, he returns to me and gathers me into his arms. He’s on his back and I scrawl myself on top of him, letting his hands run over the curve of my waist and the back of my neck.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go again,” I whisper hoarsely.
Harry laughs, scratching down my back. “Oh really?”
“Yes. This was lovely reunion sex. Next, we gotta be rough.”
“Hmm. And this has to happen tonight?”
I pick my head up. “Are you tired, Styles?”
“A little bit, Luce. All that crying made me dehydrated.”
Suddenly, I feel the ghost of the tears he’d wept onto my shoulder. I sit up and cup his face. “You have no idea what happens to me when you cry, mi ángel. You’ve rarely ever cried in front of me.”
Harry laughs, his dimples as deep as they can go. “I wasn’t planning on crying mid fuck. If anything, I’m a little embarrassed now.”
I relieve his hair from the awful bun I’ve made and his curls fall effortlessly onto his pillow. “I cried too. It’s alright.”
We fall into a bit of comfortable silence, his hands on my back, and my fingers softly tracing his tattoos. I haven’t been this close to them in years. I lick my lips and begin kissing them, starting with the swallows and then moving down to the antennae of the butterfly. It looks smaller now that he’s gained more muscle. There’s a bit of sweat on his torso, but I don’t mind. I love all of it.
“I am going to spend hours learning your body again,” Harry murmurs, holding in a laugh when I kiss his butterfly properly. “Hey, did you know your mom called me the other day?”
I pause my kisses and sharply glance up at him. “My...mother?”
“Yes. You told her we’re living together again so I think she assumed we’re back together. Don’t look at me like that. I used to talk to your mom all the time.”
“When you had a reason to.” Anxiety spikes through me. “What did she say?”
“Well, she told me to keep an eye on you. Said you haven’t been calling home a lot. That you were being too quiet.” He gently encourages me to lay my head back down onto his chest. “Why haven’t you been calling your mom?”
“I do call her! I called her a few days ago!”
“She said she missed the call but when she tried to reach you again, you didn’t pick up.”
“Why’s she telling on me? And to you, out of all people!”
Harry kisses the top of my head. “Your mother loved me, Luce. As soon as I picked up she said, ‘Where have you been, yernito?’ And then I told her that her daughter had so brutally broken up with me and left me to pick up the remains of my heart by myself.”
“You’re funny.”
His fingers gently card through my hair, laughing softly when my tangles catch them before reaching the ends. “She’s worried about you.”
“She doesn’t need to be.”
His heartbeat has returned to normal. I close my eyes, enjoying the soft rhythm. “I’m worried about you too,” Harry says quietly. “I worry about you a lot.”
My heart falls as I pick my head up to glance at him again. “Why? I’m fine.”
He takes a deep breath. “We broke up a week after your dad passed away, Luce. I didn’t even get to properly help. I didn't even know why we broke up. I didn’t hear from you until the next year. Your OCD has gotten worse. There is so much that I didn’t do in the years we weren’t together. I’m worried that I don’t know how to help you anymore.”
“You did too much for me when we were together before anyways.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“It is. And mi ángel, you didn’t have an obligation to take care of me. We weren’t together.”
His jaw tenses and then relaxes, the harsh lines of his frowns disappearing. Instead, he says softly, “I’ve missed you calling me that. You used to call me that more than my own name.”
I press a long kiss to his mouth and then one to his cheek. “I love you. Things aren’t ideal between us, but the fact that there is an ‘us’ now makes me happy.” I kiss his other cheek to even it out. “If I learned anything about our past relationship, it’s that life sometimes sucks, but we’ve just gotta deal with it, no matter how much we don’t want to. I didn’t deal with it properly. And I’ve learned my lesson. So you’re not running away from me, got it?”
Harry smiles, fondly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Got it. And I love you.” He softly kisses me. “Please call your mom.”
“I will,” I whisper against his mouth, kissing him again, pressing my body more firmly against his. To my delight, I feel him against my thigh, once more demanding my attention. I slide a hand down between his legs and gently stroke him. He groans softly into my mouth.
“I need to give you a better orgasm, Luce.”
My ears perk up at that. “My orgasm was amazing, though. And what happened to being tired?”
“That conversation woke me up. Fuck’s sake.” He lets out a shaky breath and kisses my temple. “I promised I’d spend time with my face between your legs.” He wraps his hand around mine and gently pulls it off of him. “Let me do that and then I’ll fuck you again. Sounds good?”
“Sounds amazing.” He reaches for his hair tie and I watch, completely captivated by the man hovering over me. He ties his hair quickly and then pushes a pillow underneath my hips. My legs wrap around his shoulders and his hands splay over my stomach.
“I love you,” he tells me softly, kissing my inner thighs before pressing his mouth between my legs.
“Oh,” I whisper, lacing my fingers with his and squeezing tightly. “Te amo.”
#harry styles#harry styles au#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles x oc#harry styles x woc#harry styles fanfiction
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Scummy, sleazy!Naoya who’s your next door neighbor and you honestly can’t stand him. He’s stomping his feet and slamming shit 24/7, plays his music or tv loud at all hours of the night and don’t get me started on the banchee screaming women that are in and out almost every night. You tried to be nice, asked him to keep it down a little. I mean, he’s not the only person that lives in the building, right? He should just respect his neighbors but you didn’t know what you started by coming to him at 11 at night, banging on his door to “keep it down asshole people are trying to sleep!” Well now, it seems like you’re not getting any sleep because every night, as soon as you’re tucked in and your head hits the pillow, you hear the wet, sloppy sound of Naoya jerking his cock in his room, that just happens to be next to your room and, what’s that? Is he actually moaning you’re name??!! 👀👀
BABE?? YOUR MIND IS JUST—JUST SO BIG JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
Ok, ok, you've forced my hand. I have to write Naoya x chubby fem reader bc my mind is RACING with possibilities
CW: chubby fem reader, misogyny, fatphobia, some bullying, male masturbation, breeding kink, allusions to baby trapping
Jesus christ ok—
Scummy!Naoya is the absolute WORST
Imagine living next door to this bastard as a woman jesus christ
Now let's be clear: Naoya is not a good guy here sksksk he is still an arrogant misogynist who deserves a good kick in the nuts
But... *debby ryan ear tuck* he's still kinda hot sksksk
ANYWAYS yall are neighbors and he's a NIGHTMARE
Always making noise, never listening to your gentle requests to please turn the volume down bc you have to wake up early for work
He just simply doesn't care about you and your stupid problems
I imagine Naoya as this privileged little playboy who lives off daddy's money and has never had to work a day in his life
He doesn't like the apartment he lives in, he thinks it's too cheap and dingy, but again, living off daddy's money so he doesn't really have a say where he lives
He still complains tho sksksk
And he doesn't care for his neighbors
He wishes he could live in a penthouse with a new girl in his bed every night, but nooooooo he has to live in a corner apartment with you as his nextdoor neighbor
Speaking of you: he hates you skskks
He thinks you're so ANNOYING: your smile, your laugh, the baggy clothes you wear when you walk around the apartment complex
He thinks you're a sad excuse for a woman, working and living alone and weighing far more than average
He thinks you're pathetic and he HATES that you love yourself as much as you do
He doesn't go out of his way to speak to you, but if you do interact, he's far less than kind
"You're still single? I'm not surprised, seeing the way you look and the fact that you're as independent as the average man. Maybe if you lost a few pounds and acted like a lady, people would like you more."
He's clearly insecure about himself and just taking it out on you bc you're pretty and nice and sexy and funny and perfect and he can't stand it 🙄💅
But you're unbothered bc you're confident and know your worth and some pencil dick weasel like him can't ruin that 😌
He's still a pain in the ass tho 😒
Always playing his shitty rap music and stupid shows super late and super loud
And then there's the plethora of women who stop by to have screaming matches with him
They wail and cry about how he cheated on them and he always claims that they weren't even dating which makes the screaming WORSE
The sound of slamming doors and thrown objects has become far more common than you would like
One night you've just had enough: you have to be up at 6am and Naoya has been watching TV at full volume for the last two hours and you're DONE
You stomp over to his apartment in your pajamas and bang on his door nonstop until he answers
"What the hell do you—"
"NO," you interrupt, jabbing his chest with your finger. "I'm tired of telling you to quiet down. You're a fucking adult; you need to start acting like one and be respectful of other people. If you don't turn your shit down, I will call the police and get your ass thrown out of this apartment. Don't fucking try me."
You stomp back to your apartment without another word, sending him one last glare before slamming your door shut.
To your surprise, the TV is turned down quite a bit and you're finally able to rest
Naoya can't sleep tho, still shocked by everything that transpired
He's never seen you so angry before, your eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down into the meanest frown he's ever seen, making your pretty plump features look ugly—
Wait
Pretty??
Shit... now that he thought about it, you really were pretty, with your bright eyes and plush frame, looking so soft and delectable. He wondered if you tasted as good as you looked—
WHAT NO WAIT NO HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO THINK OF YOU IN THAT WAY!! You were just some stupid fat woman that lived nextdoor who shouldn't work so much and instead should spend her time lounging around at home eating juicy fruit in the nude and spreading her legs for him when he came home from work—
OKAY HE'S GOTTA STOP
He's just tired and horny, he doesn't actually like you, it's just that he's not in the right mindset to recognize you for who you really are. He'll go to bed and he'll be back to despising you by tomorrow
But... that doesn't happen 🧍♂️
Naoya keeps thinking about you, how your tank top and shorts hugged your frame so well, how he could see your nipples hardening beneath your shirt and how he had the sudden urge to suck them into his mouth and bite them...
Sooooo... Naoya may not hate you as much as he originally thought...
He doesn't want to admit it, but he actually finds you incredibly attractive
Yes he's a fatphobic piece of shit and thought that you were a slob at first just bc of your size but now he thinks your wide hips are perfect for child-bearing and that the extra fat would aid you during pregnancy pregnancy kink is off the CHARTS for this asshole
Nah but fr, he's starting to peak glances at your curvy body whenever you're not looking
Every time yall meet at the mailboxes downstairs, he's lagging behind so he can watch you as you walk upstairs, your hips swaying, your ass looking like a perfect round peach
He's started coming over to borrow flour or milk, any excuse to see you and admire the way you look in your casual clothes
One time you answered the door in a towel and he had to hide his boner while you got him a cup of sugar he was so tempted to turn things around and be like "why don't you give me some real sugar, babygirl?" Turn this into some kinda porno but he couldn't speak he was so nervous 😓
He's thinking about bending your body in the craziest positions, your rolls squished together and your tongue lolling out of your mouth as he pounds into you, hearts in your eyes as he fills you up for the nth time that night
He's struggling to fall asleep without jerking off at least once before bed
He's thinking about you, obviously, how your back would arch beautifully as he pushes your head down into his sheets and pounds your fat cunt for hours on end
He's sure you'd be so precious in bed, your mean attitude melting away after creaming on his dick a few times, turning whiny and needy, hooking your ankles around him and making grabbing hands at him, silently begging him to come closer
He can practically hear your cute, breathy moans in his ear as he jerks his cock late at night
"Oh my god, Naoya! Fuck me, fuck me!!"
His imagination runs wild as he fucks his lube-slicked hand, imagining it's your pretty chubby pussy taking him instead
He's so wrapped up in his little fantasy of you that he's not thinking about how loud he's being
"Fuck, Y/N! That's it, fucking take it. So good, so fucking good, shit! Gonna fill you up, gonna get you fucking pregnant. Gonna make you my cute little housewife, keep you safe and well-fed—fuck, you feel so fucking good—"
He cums with a groan of your name, cleaning up after basking in the afterglow for a few minutes
There's a knock at his door 😶
He's confused af bc it's like midnight but he goes to the door anyways and lo and behold look who it is, it's the girl he just jerked off to
He's like "🧍♂️ what... what're you doing here?"
"You know I can hear you, right? These walls aren't as thick as you think they are."
His first reaction is embarrassment, but then he sees the outfit you're wearing—an oversized t-shirt that reaches your mid thigh—and suddenly he's glad you heard him
He leans against his doorframe, smirking softly, eyes roaming you as his dick starts to harden once again
"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do about it?"
#ask#smut#naoya zenin#chubby reader#fem reader#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zen'in x reader#naoya zen'in#tumblr stop posting my asks before i finish them challenge#☀️ fics
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incantation
Incubus!Atsumu Miya x reader
Warnings: Monsterfucking, Tail shit, Dumbfication, a lil Blood, Overstimulation, Branding umm sort of?, Fingie in ass, Belly Bulge, College au
WC: 4.6K
a/n: Hello this is for a special person! @hisoknen Toph darling! I am your secret santa surprise! You are one of the sweetest beans. Kind, loyal, loving and hella talented. I bring you your lovely blonde twin husband as a gift. I hope I did him justice and that you enjoy the banter bahaha. Have a very warm and safe holiday my sweet. Please enjoy some good ole demon sex with the boi. Love you lots and lots!
“Jesus Christ, I need to get laid ASAP,” you mutter to yourself as you trudge through the snow covered campus. It seems couples are around every corner, holding hands, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, sharing coats and kisses under the powdery snowfall.
It’s almost winter break. Finals are looming, Christmas is looming, stress has made a little nest in your belly and to top it all off, you haven’t been laid in a year and a half.
“Ya rang?” A voice behind you says with a twang and a chuckle. You roll your eyes and stop the blush warming your cheeks as he falls into place next to you.
Atsumu Miya, college volleyball setter, campus playboy, and also–unfortunately– your crush, stands behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walk. Atsumu flirts with everything with a pulse, and despite having a huge crush on the guy, you’ve made it your sworn duty not to sleep with him. You’d rather die than be another notch in his belt, a prize he could show off and it’s not like he hasn’t tried, multiple times.
Still, he’s more than nice to look at, and think about, and fantasize about when you’re lying in bed trying to keep quiet as the buzzing of your tiny bullet vibrator brings you to the cusp of an orgasm.
“Ha ha very funny. Do you ever get tired of flirting with every pussy out there, Tsumu?” you say wriggling out of his grasp. You’re both heading toward your last class of the day, a lecture course, Gen Ed which means the class is huge and you can nod off or daydream as much as you want.
He smacks his lips and smirks at you, a glint of something unfamiliar in his eye. “Ya sound jealous,” he replies, licking his lips. You can’t tell if he means jealous that he’s getting more action than you or jealous that the action doesn’t include you. Either way he’s annoyingly cocky and whether you’re jealous or not, you don’t have the patience for his flirty little games today. Not while being exceptionally sexually frustrated—emphasis on the ”frustrated” bit.
“I’m not jealous. Unlike you, I have standards,” you poke him in his broad chest and he chuckles under his breath.
“Don’t know why yer havin’ a hard time finding someone anyway. S’not like you ain’t easy on the eyes,” he replies shrugging as if it’s the absolute truth.
Again you have to stop the blush that threatens to heat your entire face and neck. He’s always saying shit like that but for some reason today, it stops you in your tracks.
“I’m not having trouble. Plenty of guys ask, I just tell em no,” you say, rolling your eyes. It’s stupid, you don’t have to explain this to him yet you can’t help it.
“There a reason fer that?” he prods, raising an eyebrow and plastering that stupid smug smirk on his face.
The truth is that you’ve shot down almost every person who’s tried flirting or hooking up with you. Blaming it on “not vibing with them” or something as simple as “not needing that Capricorn energy in your life”. Really though the answer was simple, you were just interested in someone else. Will you tell him that though?
Absolutely not.
As if he can read your mind, he turns to you now, stepping in front of you to stop you in your tracks. The way he’s looking at you now, you’ve only ever seen this intensity when he’s on the court. He’s focused on you, staring into your eyes as if he’s trying to read every thought in your head.
“Ya know, I could help you if ya invited me to,” he says in a quiet husky tone. You gaze up at him, confusion pulling your eyebrows together. He steps closer to you, and the warmth radiating from him is enough to make the breath from the gasp you let out wisp in vapors between the two of you.
He bends down to whisper in your ear, his breath warms your neck and goosebumps rise on your skin as a mix of his cologne and sweat fill your nose.
“All ya gotta do is ask me, or want me so much you call out my name,” he purrs and if your mind weren’t hazed you’d swear the tip of his tongue feels forked as he licks your earlobe. You should pull back, you should fire back a “mind your fucking business”, or give him a good hard slap across the face for invading your space, but instead you stand there as if something has wrapped you in a rope and glued you to the spot.
It’s almost like you’re under some spell, but just as quickly as it comes, when he pulls back from you the tense erotic atmosphere dissipates and you’re left with the swirling winter air around you.
“We should hurry, don’t wanna be late for the last class,” Atsumu replies as he turns on his heel and continues onward the huge building.
You swallow loudly, flex your fists inside your pockets and squeeze your thighs together. What the hell was that? Did you imagine it?
Thank god for it being the last few days before break. It means your roommate has gone home already. Lucky bastard was done with finals last week and was able to leave a week early. Though you’d much rather be at home, having the room to yourself was a tiny victory. You can watch what you want, dress as scantily as you prefer, and be as loud as you care to.
You’re in bed, playing your highly addictive mobile game as you relax and let your mind calm from the day of classes. You–regrettably–can’t stop thinking about Atsumu, what he said to you, and that weird shift in energy and personality as he bent down and licked your ear. Thinking about it again makes your heart flutter and sends pulses of heat down to your core.
What had he meant when he said “I could help you if ya invited me to”? What does that even mean? The wording was weird, even for him. Invite him? Like how you invite a vampire or demon into your home? You shake your head. That’s silly. Atsumu is not a vampire and although he may play like a demon on the court, there’s no way he’s a demon either. Vampires and demons don’t exist.
Still, his voice doesn’t leave your mind, his words tumble and float around in your head and suddenly you’re moving a hand down your body, holding your own breasts and twisting your own nipples through your shirt. Biting your lip, you drop your phone and reach under your mattress to grab your vibrator. Just a quick session and maybe it’ll get him out of your head.
You hum as you shimmy your sweatpants and panties down your body. The cool air hits your cunt as you run an idle finger across your clit. You hiss and bite your lip, picturing it as Atsumu’s fingers squeezing your nipples and brushing the skin of your inner thigh.
God, he’d be such a tease, you know it. The way he’s cocky and self assured on the court, it has to extend to his technique in the bedroom.
He’d wanna hear you beg him for more, to beg for his cock and yeah you would, until your throat was hoarse. He’d want to watch you bounce atop him, watch your ass slap against his muscular thighs. He’d hold you close, lick your ear like he did earlier while moaning and babbling about how your pussy felt better than any he’d ever had before.
The buzzing against your clit is enough to make your back arch, your expert fingers sinking into your pussy to find the spot you know will push you over the edge. Your breath increases as you fantasize about Tsumu above you, sweaty and panting as he pounds into your sloppy cunt. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the sweat dripping from his nose, the salty sloppy kisses between pants and groans. How you wish the fantasy could be real, you wish he was here, you wish you’d taken him up on his offer.
All ya gotta do is ask me, or want me so much you call my name.
His name is on the tip of your tongue. There’s no reason you shouldn’t say it. No one’s here, no one will hear you, no one will know. The fantasy is so real, you can almost feel his breath on you, feel his fingers stretching inside your pussy. So close, your body tenses, you intake a sharp breath and his name is dripping from your lips.
“Ts…Tsumu…” you pant and as you’re about to topple over the edge to ecstasy–
“Well ain’t this a pretty sight?”
Your eyes shoot open, the bullet falls loudly to the floor still vibrating as your eyes swivel around your dark dorm room. A voice should not be in your room right now and you’re quickly pulling the blanket over you to hide yourself from any prying eyes that may lurk in the shadows. Your heart races as it climbs into your throat and bangs loudly in your ears anxiously. Not just because a voice is in your room that is supposed to be empty but because this voice, you know.
“Tsumu?” you ask into the darkness. It’s strange, you don’t remember it being this dark. You’d had a candle lit for maximum relaxation but you’d at least had the lamp next to your bed on. Now it seems it’s burned out, only the gentle glow of the lit candle on the window and the moon shining through.
He couldn’t be here, you would’ve heard him come in. Plus your dorm is on the fifth fucking floor. There’s no way someone could climb up that high.
As your eyes adjust, you detect movement in the shadows and can make out the figure of a man sitting in the desk chair across from you. You blink as he lazily swivels back and forth humming to himself as you awkwardly sit with your pussy hidden beneath the blankets.
No fucking way.
“Atsumu… you fucking freak, how did you get in here?” your voice wavers but you try to be angry and serious. If he snuck into your room, that’s a serious breach of privacy and whether you were dreaming about fucking him or not, he still should get the fuck out.
“So you were interested all along, huh? How long have you been thinkin’ bout me while flickin’ yer bean?” he replies in a voice that seems to have a weird ghostly reverb to it.
You gulp, he sounds intimidating however, you can feel slick dripping down your thigh almost involuntarily at his words. It’s almost as if you’re under a spell, your mind growing hazy, just like it did earlier today. You can feel tingling on your wrists and ankles, your throat feels as if there’s a hand wrapping around it, making it harder for you to breathe yet you can’t see anything near you.
There’s something different about him, something dangerous lurking in his voice. He stays hidden in the shadows but his frame seems larger, more dense than usual. Larger shoulders, thicker muscles, a voice smoother than his usual goofy teasing tone and deliciously dripping with sensual lust.
There’s something more, and when he stands and approaches you, the moonlight illuminates him and you witness him in all his glory. He stands shirtless and grand in front of you. He’s bulky now, abs chiseled like stone, lithe thighs and muscles thicker than what you’ve seen of him on the volleyball court. Two horns protrude from the sides of his head, large leathery wings stay tucked in to his side , sharp fangs glisten when he smiles at you and a black tattered loincloth sits low on his hips covering his crotch.
He is not the Atsumu you know and yet your mind tells you that it is still him.
He still has that badly dyed blonde hair but it’s softer, better groomed and fluffier. His brown eyes now shine golden in the night and he peers down on you like you’re a meal ready for him to devour.
Though he looks intimidating with long fangs and two horns piercing the side of his head, his bushy eyebrows and pink lips still pull into that cocky signature Atsumu smirk you know.
Despite the smirk and knowing this is Tsumu, the huge leathery wings and –holy shit is that a tail?-- still throws you for a loop and when you whisper “Who the hell are you?” in a raspy voice he chuckles.
“You invited me, toots. Thought fer sure you’d know who I was and what I’m here for,” he tuts bending down to boop the tip of your nose with a long clawed finger.
You gulp again, pulling the blankets up around your body tighter but as you do your wrists and ankles start to burn. You wince and Tsumu chuckles again. The sound pisses you off, he’s reveling in your embarrassment right now. You shouldn’t even be embarrassed. What you do in the comforts of your own dorm room is your business.
“Get the fuck out,” you seethe.
“No reason to be all shy, I heard everything,” he replies, reaching down to pick up the bullet and turn it off.
Atsumu snaps his fingers and suddenly your limbs are moving out of your control. The blanket is whisked off of you in an instant and your arms and legs are pulled by the tingling sensation in your wrists and ankles to spread you out on the bed before him. He licks his lips, a long thick forked tongue hanging out the side of his mouth as he gazes at your cunt glistening in the moonlight.
“And how could I leave when you’re spread out for me like this?”
Ok maybe demons are real. Maybe this isn’t some weird fucked up sex dream you’re having about him. Maybe you’re in deep deep shit right now. Your wide eyes give away the fear but you try to swallow it when you ask the creature in front of you his intentions.
“W…what the hell are you? And what do you want from me?” you stammer
“Ahh, I have a lot of names. I think the one you’d be familiar with though is Incubus. Which is silly if you ask me. I don’t take people’s souls and despite what you may think, I don't choose them either. They call me and I answer, “ he explains, a long claw running down the middle of your cleavage. The fabric rips underneath his sharp nail and he pulls it roughly as it tears to shreds around you.
Now completely bare before him, he growls low, his eyes run over your frame and again he looks like he’s hungry. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me for a long time though, “he explains, hints of longing in his tone.
“I didn’t call you or summon you or whatever,” you pout.
Cocking and eyebrow he challenges you. “Really? So the ‘T..tsumu..’ you whimpered while touching yerself was just a fluke?” he teases, mocking you in a pathetic high pitched breathy moan that you know is way too accurate.
You shake your head defiantly, still pulling at the binds “That was just…a moment of weakness.”
“A moment of weakness? You think summoning a sex demon is a moment of weakness?” he scoffs.
"Yes."
"And yet, you still haven't told me to stop touching you," he retorts, running a finger up and down chest. You shiver and gnaw your cheek to keep yourself from moaning pathetically.
“I didn’t know that while I was…” you hesitate not wanting to admit to masturbating to the thought of him, “I didn’t know it would summon a damn demon, especially not you,” you finish.
“A name and wish is all the incantation needs sweetheart and you sounded pretty desperate,” he says with a dark chuckle.
He climbs over your body now, his bare chest rubbing against your heated skin. You’re wriggling, trying to move your arms but the more you move the more your wrists ache. It’s as if there's a rope digging into your flesh. It hurts and it only gets more painful as you jerk.
“The more ya move, the more those binds will tighten sweetheart,” he says in a sing-songy voice.
Atsumu’s face is between your thighs now, you’re panting, your heart beating so fast you think it may fly out of your chest. And though you want to scream at the sight of a demon settled between your thighs, the only sound you muster is a squeaky desperate moan as he bites into your thigh and licks away the beads of blood that start to ooze from the wound.
“Tell me the truth, how long have ya wanted me?”
His question is crawling around in the inside of your skull, plunging down your throat to rip the answer from you and you realize he's playing some weird demon mind game with you. Luckily you’re able to shake off the invasion and fire back with a sassy quip.
“Fuck off Miya.”
His tongue feels better than sex, his spit is warm but you feel euphoria wash over you as if you’ve just cum from this sensation alone. Holy shit, what is he doing to you? You hum again as he moves and repeats the action on your other thigh. Amazingly the blood doesn’t continue to ooze from your thighs as he settles in front of your cunt. His nose is buried between your folds and inhales deeply
“You smell fucking delicious,” he says through his teeth and before your eyes roll to the back of your head, you watch his tongue lull out of mouth and lick up from your ass all the way to your clit. This is something you’ve never felt before. Atsumu’s tongue almost vibrates with energy and you throw your head back on the bed as he feasts on you.
He’s slimy and wet and the sloppy sucking noises coming from below you only makes your cunt wetter. This may be the weirdest head you’ve ever received but you surely aren’t complaining. You wish you could fist your fingers into his hair but the stupid magic he’s using to keep you pinned holds you tight in place.
You think you see stars when you feel something long and thick insert your pussy. It wriggles around inside you, pressing against your g-spot with every single movement.
“Oh fuck, what--” you pant and when you raise your neck to see what’s happening your realize he’s pushed his tongue inside you. He angles his tongue up and applies pressure to your spongy center and in an instant the knot inside of you is tightening and snapping in one fell swoop.
As your back arches and you cum messily and plentiful all over Atsumu’s face, your fingers dig into the blankets on your bed, your wrists burn as you wriggle against the invisible binds that hold you in place, your limbs ache as they tense and spasm and you try to catch your breath.
His tongue slips from inside you and you whimper in his absence. He’s licking his lips again, face glistening with your arousal as if it’s sweat like when he’s on the court and he smirks at you.
“Thought that’s all I had in store for ya?”
A foreign feeling slithers up your body, it’s thick, warm and muscular as it coils around your breast. It squeezes, the pointed tip you realize is his tail flicks your nipple. As he plays with you, he moves up your body and for the first time tonight he kisses you. A terrifying noise rips through him when his lips connect with yours. A feral growl vibrates his body and he grunts and groans as his tongue enters your mouth and wraps around your tongue.
“You don't know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathes when he pulls back from you. It shocks you how much truth lies in the statement, his kiss seemed desperate and through the animalistic growl you think you might’ve heard a sigh of relief as if he was thinking ”finally”.
He’s ready to have you now and he reaches down to tear the last torn remnants of the loincloth away from his body. You gasp at the view, completely taken aback at the massive package he sports.
Atsumu’s cock is monstrous, a perfect picture of what you’d imagine when you hear “demon cock”. It’s ribbed, thicker and larger than any you’ve ever seen. It almost looks as if it’s pulsating when he lines it up with your heat. The tip is an angry red and the precum dripping from the tip oozes white and dribbles down the shaft and into the creases of the ridges of his cock. If you’re being honest, it’s monstrous, but it’s fucking beautiful and exactly what you’d expect from a stupid pretty playboy–or in this case "playdemon"– like him.
With that, a problem arises. He is monstrous. You have no idea how that is going to fit inside you. Does he actually intend to fuck you with that?
Your eyes widen,”Tsumu… that..that’s not gonna fit…” you mutter in shock. He quiets you with the tip of his tail, putting it to your lips and reaching out to tip your chin to look him in the eyes.
“Don’t worry, the others said that too. It’ll fit sweetheart. I’ll take care of ya.”
Something warm and tingly dribbles down your cunt and again that feeling of euphoria washes over you. You're humming again, mind in bliss as Atsumu swirls a finger through the glob of spit he spat onto your cunt and mixes it with your cum around your asshole. Normally you’d fidget and pull away from anything near your ass, but when he pushes a finger into your puckered hole, you moan loudly like a bitch in heat, begging him for more.
As he stretches your ass open he thumps his thick cock against your clit and when he globs another ball of spit onto your cunt, he coats the head of his cock in the precum weeping from the tip and his spit before he slowly pushes into you.
He watches the way you split around the head of his cock and the weight of him, the stretch, the feel of the tip of his cock filling you so much and pressing against the spongy center that only you thought you be able to touch, has you screaming so loud you’re afraid your voice will go out. He places a hand on your belly and pushes into you more, feeling the bulge of his cock as your cunt sucks him in.
He praises you like a psychotic priest praising a dark deity, “Good girl, good, so good, so fucking tight, feels… like heaven…” he grunts.
He’s growling, other worldly noises you never heard in your life filling the expanse of your dark room. You should be terrified, instead you’re almost flattered.
When he’s finally sheathed himself inside you completely, all you see behind your eyelids is white. Every ridge of his cock, rubs against your velvety walls, your pussy flutters excitedly around him and your gasping for breath like your life depends on it.
He stays for a minute, growling like a beast as you spasm around him and you don’t even realize you’ve cum a second time until he’s laughing like a maniacal villain and bragging–as per usual.
“Oh fuck, you came and I haven’t even started moving yet!” he says as if he’s impressed.
You want to tell him to shut up but you can’t speak, too lost in the tingling sensation in your cunt that slowly turns into an ache as he slowly moves out to plunge back into you.
“Tsumu please.. Please I can’t take…more…”
“Aww come on angel, just one more for me? I thought for sure you’d be better than the others,” he teases as he bends down to lick up the middle of your breasts again and you purr like a satiated cat.
This fucker has the nerve to compare you to other people he’s fucked? You know he’s only saying it to get you riled up but there’s a jealous itch in your heart that pushes you to prove him wrong. Better than the others? You’ll fucking show him.
You open your eyes to glare at him, trying to clear your mind before you short circuit again and lose the ability to speak. “Unbind my fucking hands,” you say through your teeth, tired of not being able to touch him. He’s had his way with you then entire, the least he can do is let you touch him.
He sees the fire in your eyes, the way you pout, and your desire but his smug smirk only makes you grit your teeth.
“Whatever ya say sweetheart.” he snaps again and your wrists stop tingling and burning. As soon as you’re free you’re grasping his wings and tugging him forward to pound into you.
“Now fuck me,” you say with a hiss, desperation taking over all of your actions.
He roars, whether in pleasure of your cunt clenching around him or in pain from the way you mercilessly tug his wings you’re not sure, but his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth and he throws his head back as his cock ravages you.
You cry, moan, scream, and whimper; every sound possible echoes through the room and mixed with the feral sounds from Atsumu and the squelching of your sloppy cunt, it sounds as if you’re in a horror movie.
Each thrust you feel in your stomach and although it should be uncomfortable you can't help moaning and grunting at the idea that you’re this full of him. Your mind goes blank as you drop your jaw and hang your head back. Drool drips from the side of your mouth, tears mix with the sweat dripping down your forehead and all you can do is look between your bodies and watch the way he disappears inside you, the way his hand gently lies on your stomach to feel his cock bulging inside of you.
“Mine…you’re gonna be all mine…” he growls. It’s almost sensual and tender the way he looks at you with frenzied lust. The softness behind his eyes when he stares into yours, panting as his thrusts get sloppier carries a hidden message he hasn’t mentioned.
That stubbornness you felt melts away when you hear him and though you feel as if you can’t speak you’re able to find two words in your dumbified brain.
“Yours! All yours!”
He spills into you and his cum is searing, like he’s branding your cunt permanently with his seed marking you for life. It burns but strangely enough you don’t feel pain. You squeeze him, clenching and cumming so intensely your entire body shakes. You pull his wings again and he falls forward on top of you and bites into your shoulder so hard you scream out in both pain and pleasure. Again he licks the wound, growling and humming as you continue to milk him dry. You’re on the brink of consciousness, only aware of his voice no longer the weird reverberated sensual voice he's been speaking in.
Through your clouded vision you see the horns on the side of his head disappear, he seems to shrink back to normal size, cock going limp inside you. He returns to the Atsumu you know, your Atsumu. He's kissing you tenderly and you can’t help wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.
“Still think it’s a moment of weakness?” he smirks again against your lips.
You don’t answer as you give in to sleep and the sound of his cocky chortle as you drift off.
—
Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays!
#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#hq atsumu#tw: monsterfucking#incubus!atsumu#marquie writes#secret santa#miya atsumu#if this is bad please don't tell me#it's my first time writing monster shit#or demon shit#anyway#Toph i love you lots! happy holidays!
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Hold Me
Summary: You comfort Andy while he’s dealing with a very difficult case.
Warnings: Light Angst, Distressed Andy Barber, Supportive Reader, Cursing, Cuddles, Pet Names, Dark themes, Mentions of Abuse of Children, Violence, Death, Minors DNI
A/N: So, there was a reader who requested that I write about Reader and Andy cuddling. This fic has some dark things, based on what Andy is dealing with. Abuse of children is mentioned. Including rape and death. Please heed the warning. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
___
“Baby?” You hear your husband call out. “Y/N, where are you?” Oh, he was home a little earlier than normal.
“I’m upstairs, Andy!” You were in the middle of folding laundry and putting it away. And then you hear him climb the stairs. It was rather hard to miss the sound of his heavy footsteps.
“Hi, honey!” You eagerly greet him. “How are -?
You’re forced to pause when you notice the look in his eyes. They look…haunted. Something was wrong here.
“Andy, are you…are you okay?”
Your man just looks at you. And then you see his eyes well up with tears.
No, he was not okay. Clearly.
You go to him. Your hands immediately wrapping themselves around his trim waist.
“What is it, baby? What is it?” You rarely ever saw him like this.
He just shakes his head and buries his face into your shoulder. One of your hands goes to rub his back, gently stroking. “Okay, you don’t have to talk about it now. But at least tell me what you need. Can you do that for me? Can you tell me what you need?”
“Just hold me.” He whispers. “Please.”
“You’ve got it, honey.” You take his big hand and lead him towards the bed. “Take off your shirt.” You tell him as you do the same before climbing in. “Come here.” You hold your arms out to him.
Andy does as you ask, quickly removing his light blue button down shirt before climbing into bed and under the covers with you. Once he’s in, he inches down to rest his head on your belly, one of his hands resting on your hip.
You run your fingers through his tawny locks, letting your nails softly scratch his scalp.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Andy?”
“In a moment.” He mumbles. “In a moment.” You nod, keeping your hand in his hair. Your Big Man needed you right now.
After a few moments he begins to talk. His voice is low and solemn.
“It’s this case I’m working on, Y/N. It’s this fucking case.” He whispers against the warm skin of your stomach. “Honey, it’s awful. And it’s not that I haven’t dealt with awful before, but…” Andy trails off.
“But what, Andrew?”
“This case is evil in its purest form.” He murmurs, his hand gripping you tightly.
Your hand goes down to massage his tense neck. “Can you tell me about it? Or is that too hard?”
“I had to look at evidence photos today. This man…this man he -” Andy takes a deep breath. “He’s been charged with raping and sodomizing five children. Four boys and one girl, and the youngest was three-years-old. The same age as Bianca. As our BiBi.”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“The things he did to them. The way he hurt them. Having to look at those photos…baby, he beat them. The images were graphic.” You feel wet tears on your skin.
“And don’t get me wrong. I’m going to make sure I put his ass away for fucking life. I’m going to make sure I find the roughest, most brutal correctional institute to send him to…but today I wanted to kill him. I wanted to take him out back and beat the shit out of him until he stopped breathing.”
Another deep breath.
“Because all I could think about was Bianca. The way he hurt that little girl especially…”
“Andy, baby.” You coo at him. “Andy, I’m so sorry.”
“Y/N, it was horrible. And nothing I ever see as the District Attorney is ever good. It’s never nice. But sometimes it takes a fucking toll, you know? And today, all I could think about was getting home to my wife and my child.”
Andy snuggles even deeper into you. “My baby.” He murmurs. “That could’ve just as easily been my BiBi.”
You go to rub his back. “This is all horrible, Andy. And I’m sorry that this is part of your job. But you’re going to win this one. And you’re going to put this piece of shit away so he can’t harm anyone else ever again. And we both know that once other prisoners find out about his crimes, about what he did, he’ll have a price on his head.”
“I know, but even with victories sometimes comes pain. One of the little boys didn’t make it.” He starts to weep then. It’s quiet and soft.
“Come up here,” you whisper. “Come up here to my chest, my love.” Your man complies, nestling his face into your shoulder. “Today was hard, but it’s over now, Big Man. Tomorrow is a new day. And it’s going to be better. I don’t know how, but I believe that it will be.” You tell him as you wrap your arms around his big body.
Right now, your husband needed comfort. And your heart hurt for him.
“When you’re through, Andy, this man will never be able to touch another child again. Let alone our daughter. You’re doing the right work, and sometimes the right work is painful. But I’m here with you. I’ve got you the way you’ve always got me. So just rest for a moment, my sweet man. Just rest. And then when you wake up, I’ll feed you. We’ve got steak sandwiches downstairs.”
You feel his eyes flutter closed.
“But right now I want you to rest and throw away the crap from today. And I’ll hold you while you do it, because even Daddies need to be held sometimes too.”
“Thank you.” His deep voice rumbles against your chest. “And I’m sorry.”
You sigh. “Do not ever be sorry about telling me how you feel, or what you’re going through. This is what your wife is here for. I’m here to help hold you up when you feel like falling down. And I’m not as big as you, so sometimes we might end up taking a knee, but we’ll do it together.”
You feel his breathing even out as he begins to fall asleep. Good. “I will always hold you down, Andrew Barber. You have my word on that.” You whisper into his ear.
“Always.”
END
#cevansbrat0007growing pains series#Cevansbrat0007 fic#Chris Evans#andy barber#chris evans x black!reader#andy barber x black reader#chris evans woc!reader#andy barber x woc!reader#chris evans imagines#andy barber imagines#chris evans fanfic#andy barber fanfic#bianca barber
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Talc slip up
Masterlist
Summary: trying to give helpful advice on national tv which quickly bites you in the ass!
Warnings: implied bdsm, implied domme!reader, embarrassment, swearing, fluff.
A/n: so this was inspired by Henry’s latest appearance on the graham Norton show. And also a little bit inspired by the notion of him being a sub a few weeks ago?
Word count: 1388
You sat still heart beating a mile a minuet as Graham spoke to the one and only henry motherfucking cavill! He was like six feet way and by god did your little rabbit heart know it.
You tried to stay calm, you were a new kid on the block, well fairly new. You had released a few albums but the latest one had been a hit. It was your first big break and you were now on the press circuit alone. This was your first graham Norton show and it was just your luck to be sat next to your number one celebrity crush and number one fantasy fuck! And to your left was Tom Holland another celeb you’d call daddy and fuck.
You tipped forward slightly in your seat trying to listen to the conversation instead of your racing heart and inner rabid fan girl.
"So the supersuit. That thing looks tight? Like super tight how long did it take to squeeze into that? Most of us struggle with jeans!" Graham said with a laugh at the end, henry laughed along to nodding before grinning casting a glance across to you and Tom before looking back to Graham.
"Agh yeah well it was a bit of a struggle, they assured me it was my size but... well I did have my reservations" he answered shrugging with a light chuckle, unable to control his face as it raced through expressions, shy, serious then amused all within seconds. Each one was beautiful and made the handsome man positively delicious. Never control your face sir.
"I'll bet you did when they first handed it to you" Graham continued the conversation making the Adonis beside you nod leaning forward investing into the conversation.
"Yes well luckily it did give a little bit, which I was thankful for, after the first few shoots it only took about twenty minuets to wriggle into" he explained with a slight fidget in his seat drawing your eyes to his humongous thighs. Thighs that you wanted to leave claw marks, bite and then kiss better all at once. Your mind wandered for a second, imagining having his tree trunk legs quivering under your crop or cane~ fuck yes. Luckily you remembered where you were and snapped out of it swallowing dryly.
'Dear god please let me survive being so close to this embodiment of every sexual fantasy that you have placed six feet in front of me. Please give me the strength to fend off every lustful degrading and juicy thought and allow me to get up without a wet patch. Amen. Ps you are a cruel bastard.'
"It was actually getting out which was the tricky bit, it would err, stick for a better word" henry trailed off smirking causing a 'ooOOOooo' from the ladies in the audience. Which resulted in a cheeky grin. You heart skipped a beat and you almost whimpered like a needy subby on fucking tv! 'Dear god. Fuck you'
"Didn’t you put on talc?" You froze as the words left your mouth, subconsciously needing to distract yourself you’d fucking spoke out loud drawing henry's attention he frowned slightly confused by your question.
"I’m sorry?" He asked genuinely curious as to what you meant. You drew a breath and swallowed. Jesus fucking Christ you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you.
"Well its like latex cat suit right? Next time pop a bit of talc on and that puppy will slid on and off like a glove, it stops chaffing too" you felt fucking possessed as the words poured from you with little to know thought. Your unconscious need to help and offer advice just rolled off of the tongue with little regard to the implications.
Henrys eyes bugged for a split second and then he grinned wide, eyes darkening and he lapped at his lip before trapping it with his teeth. You gasped and covered your mouth before flushing, blood rushing to your head so fast you felt dizzy. 'Holy shit holy shit what the fuck did I just say? Where the fuck is my filter? Cat suit?! I TOLD HIM I HAVE A FUCKING CATSUIT!? Yeah okay why not just hint on national tv that I’m a closet domme... not only that but to him of all fucking people?! Brilliant, fucking brilliant'
"Wait hold on a second miss y/n how do you know that little tip?" Graham added honing in on the new little tid bit of information. You dipped your head still covering your mouth completely mortified. 'Great just fucking fantastic! He thinks your a fucking crazy pvc lady now!'
“I was just thinking the same thing, none of your music videos have had suits like that in them... I mean I’d know I love to watch them, I love your music. Its what I listen too every day working out" henry spoke moving to lounge back crossing one ankle over his knee and shrugged.
You paused and snapped your head to him gawking at him. 'He watches my stuff? He... likes it? Holy fuck he... could he be a fan? No no that’s silly, our just jumping to conclusions'
"Indeed so we know y/n has at least one cat suit at home~" graham said trying to push forward as you and henry stayed put caught up in a little smug, shocked staring match that felt much too intimate to let play out on national tv.
"Sounds very interesting~" henry added grinning cheekily, enjoying your little flustered state. You pulled your hands away from your face finally and fanned yourself trying to wave away your rosy blush.
"I err yeah... lets not... lets not dwell on that" you muttered trying g to breeze over this whole ordeal and get out of here to find a rock to hide under for the rest of your life. Little did you know things were about to get worse. And to be honest the cheekily grin on grahams face should have been enough warning.
"Oh gosh she looks like she’s about to burst! Poor thing, you know I feel for you, I really do. Of all things to say to your crush- oops?" He said before quickly covering his mouth smirking smugly then henry glanced from graham to you then back again his cheeks tinting pink and a grin split across his face.
"Oh dear god- Graham?!" You hissed at the host, baring your teeth at him, giving him 'the look' that had your previous subs cower making him gulp and lean back in his seat.
"Crush?" Henry asked glowing but smiling clearly smitten with the idea... maybe even flattered?
"Yes she has a teensy crush on you~ or that’s what she said in an interview a few weeks ago~" graham spoke from behind his cue cards flicking his eyes between you both.
"You know this nights just getting better and better!" Henry said cheerfully slapping his thigh whilst beaming at you. You smiled shyly and bit your tongue not trusting yourself to mutter a single word.
"Hey maybe you two should swap numbers after the show, help each other with... cat suit tips?" Graham said waving his cards between you both excitedly.
"Oh trust me I plan to get her number, especially after tonight’s revelations~" henry uttered in a deep suave confident voice tipping his head back as he spied you winking at you making your heart jolt.
"B-but there’s no superman films coming up, and Geralts leggings are tight but I doubt you'll need any tips for those!... S-so there’s no need right?.....Right henry?" You uttered stumbling mover some of your words unsure what was coming-out of your mouth, words just flowed. But henry chuckled shaking his head at you.
"Who said its for me? Your the one with the cat suit~" he purred teasingly his lip pealing away in a sexy wolfish grin. You stuttered a few strange sounds before just nodding impishly at him.
#henry cavill rpf#rpf#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill x Domme!reader#if you squint
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Can we have more Jason x Disabled reader? Maybe where he turns all squishy and adorable and apologetic when she snaps at him, because she feels like he's underestimating her abilities. With a lot of fluff, please.
"What are you doing?"
You open your eyes slowly and look at Stephanie, scowling. "Saying a prayer for patience," you huff.
"Why?" she stage whispered.
"Because if I say a prayer for strength I'm gonna need bail."
Steph winced in sympathy and plopped herself down in your chair, petting Cola when he pawed at her. "One of those days, huh?"
"I'm not made-"
"Steph get out of her chair," Jason groused, "There's like-"
"Fucking christ," you yelp, "I'm not made of fucking glass! All day long you've been following me around like if I sneeze too hard I'm gonna fucking die. I get that I'm broken, okay? I know. But- but-"
"Y/N," he said wincing, reaching for you.
"Just stop," you tell him, swatting his hands away, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the swell of frustrated tears.
"I'm just gonna- yeah- bye-' Steph said, slinking out of your office, feeling awkward.
For a long moment, all Jason can do is stare. Watching you try to choke back sobs, shoulders shaking. And when the weight of it all bore you to the ground, where you sank to your knees and just rocked yourself, seeking any comfort you can find, hugging the dog that wormed his way into your arms. He feels like an asshole.
It was easy to forget, when you were in pain, when you needed help. That you survived on your own for a long time. That you found a way to keep your siblings fed and clothed. That Bruce hadn't just scooped you out of an orphanage. He'd busted you running the books on illegal street races.
"I'm sorry," he said, lowering himself down next to you slowly. He didn't reach for you though. Cola wouldn't have let him. He knew that, even though he was letting you cry into his fur, the dog was still standing guard. He liked the rest of the family. But you were his person.
Broken.
He hated it when you used that word. You weren't broken. You weren't defective. You were... you. And when he watched you hurt. Watched you struggle- he wanted it to stop. He wanted to make it better.
"You're not broken," he murmured.
"I am though," you sputter. "And I know it. Fucking physical therapy. Doctors. What good is it? I don't need reminded every fucking day that no matter how hard I try I can't do it. I just can't."
Cola whines and leans against you, laying across your legs as you wipe your face on your sleeve.
"What good is it?" Jason asked softly, "What do you-"
"Fucking useless."
"Useless?" Jason blinked at you. "Y/N, have you met you? You can give Alfred attitude and live. You can solve ciphers faster than any fucking person I've ever met. You saved all our asses because you followed a hunch we all thought was a dead end."
"Luck-"
"Bullshit," he said fiercely, snatching tissues off the desk for you. "There's nothing fucking lucky about it. That's skill. You survived on the fucking streets- sweethear- Y/N, you can't do that with luck."
"I had help-"
"Don't," he warned, watching you wipe your nose, "Stop giving people credit where they don't deserve it. You did that. You're still doing it- and I'm sorry. I just-" He broke off and took a deep breath. "Just smack me next time, okay? I just- the last time you fell it just. It scared me."
"I fall all the time-"
"I know," he said, cupping your cheek in his hand gently. Your face is hot. Too warm for comfort and your hands are shaking. "But Jesus Christ." He could still hear the thud of your head hitting the floor. And the way you protested that you were fine, pushing away anyone who tried to help you up. "I know you'll be fine but- I won't."
"Jay-"
"I love you, okay?" he breathed, "It sucks knowing that every second of every day you're in pain and there's nothing I can do but watch while you suffer-"
"Jay you can't-"
"Love you?" he scoffed. "Fuck you mean I can't? You quote Hamlet at Bruce when he's whining- Beautiful that ship has sailed. I'm ruined and I can't-"
Your lips crash into his and all Jason can do is hold on, cushioning the fall when he melts into the floor. He can't even be mad about the dog hair that's going to be all over his back. All he knows is that right now, he never wants to let you go. And he's never going to to make you cry like that again. Not if he can help it.
#Jason Todd#Jason Todd x reader#anon ask#ask answered#minors dni#disabled!reader#oh shit now I'm sad#just casually processing trauma#it's fine#I'm fine
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Izuku x Male Reader Smut
I'm a dirty slut, so .... yeah
Women DNI please :3
Warnings: you push friend boundaries in the fic but Izuku likes it so it's fine, bottom reader, top izuku, buff tan izuku, big tiddy izuku, God kink apparently, degradation, he calls you puppy, a bit of simp Izuku, breeding kink
Izuku wasn't a simp, okay? He was kind, he was courteous and pleasant to be around! But he always had boundaries with his friends and loved ones. Well....until he met you.
You see, Izuku had a not-so-obvious crush on you (shut it Bakugou). Ever since he met you at UA he kind of let you push any and all boundaries that he had put in place with his friends.
Now don't get the wrong idea! At first, when you both met in your first year at UA it was just little stuff! Like, using his clothes or borrowing a pillow. I mean that's what friends are for right? At least that’s what you told him.
He thought maybe he just needed to chill out and let loose his rules a bit. So you were a little friendlier about how you acted around him as opposed to your other friends, so what?
He could make an exception this once and that would be it!
But then you started getting even more comfortable.
And it was good! He was happy you were comfortable around him! It made his heart fly!
You were being a little touchier with him and it was just friendly stuff. Laying your head on his shoulder and in his lap or even just stroking his hair while you cuddle, but that's fine!
He likes it, he always has and always will!
You ask permission the first time you do these things and how could he resist sitting in the arms of a gorgeous man like you?
Then it stays that way for a while a little after UA.
You get a little bold every once in a while after that but it's nothing he can't handle.
He's working out and doing hero work so he has more things to focus on than his not so little crush anymore.
Even if he stays up at night thinking about all those touches. Thinking about your chapped lips and smooth skin beneath his hands. Thinking about your hands and how much he likes them. Likes them in his hair, massaging his shoulders. How much more he would like them if you tangled them in his hair and pull on it as he's fucking you into his mattress. How much he'd then like it for you to yell and scream his name as he absolutely pounds you into his sheets. How much he wants you to cry and scream his name until the neighbors bring noise complaints and you have a sore throat the next day from it.
So yeah. He doesn't have the time.
Until one night you show up to his door. It's late, almost 4 in the morning, about 2 hours after he comes home from his agency, and he just hears these little knocks on the door. He thinks it's the rain at first until he gets a text from you asking him if he's up and if you could come in.
He's almost dressed and ready for bed but for you, he'd sacrifice any amount of sleep to make sure you're okay at any time of the night.
He opens his door to find you drenched from the rain. And he means soaked. You're shivering in these nice little skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. You're sobbing and your hair is spilling water onto his doormat. "Hey Izuku, is it-is it okay if I come in?"
He can hear just how congested you are, it seems like you've been crying for a while. "Yeah, just let me-let me get you a towel, are you okay?" You start sobbing in front of him and he gives you the towel as he comes back."Never mind, that was obviously a stupid question, come on in and go get a shower."
You're nice and warm by the time you come back to the kitchen, he's made you shower and given you some food. So now you two sit down on his couch and he holds you close to him. he's not saying anything and neither are you, but you know he wants you to talk about it."So, I kinda had a breakdown about some relationship stuff right now." You guys laughed at the obviousness of it.
"Did you want to talk about it?" He looks at you laying down on his chest, tangling your legs with his, in his shirt, in his pants. God he wished you would-
"Kinda, I don't have to if you don't want me to." He shook his head to the sides and you sighed deeply," I knew you would say that, okay, it's kinda embarrassing if I'm being honest."
He laughed at you, "Nothing could be more awkward and embarrassing for me to listen to than when you told me, in detail, about your crush on Bakugou." You contorted your face in distaste at him and he just kept laughing.
"Bakugou is hot and I stand by all that I said asshole." You shook your head. "But I was very embarrassing."
It got quiet again and you put your face in the crook of his neck. "So, I figured out that I ....fuck okay so...." You move back to face him and stare at him in the eyes. "Don't laugh but I realized I only want a sexual relationship with someone at the moment. I started crying because I felt like I'd been lying to myself and I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Your blush is not less bright than his at all and he can't do anything but avoid your pretty little face looking at him than to push you into his chest and look up at his wonderfully beautiful ceiling he's never had the time to admire before this.
"You could have said that to me without the weird eye contact but whatever, go on."
You laugh hysterically, a little high on your emotions, "Okay hear me out. I'm a hero right? And using a loved one as leverage is a very classic villain plan. So I thought that was why I didn't want a relationship. Now I figured out it's just the stress! I want something like that eventually but right now? I just want something with someone to destress."
You move your head up to look at him and he moves his hand away from the back of your head, his emotions are going haywire right now. What is he supposed to say to that??? Do you want him to find someone for you to hook up with or???? And then he realizes-"I am not setting you up with Bakugou-"
"-OH MY GOD SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY IT WAS A ONE-TIME THING." You shake your head and laugh incredulously at him. "I'm allowed to be attracted to people who aren't good for me okay? Is it really that bad?"
Izuku rolls his eyes at you, "Yes. Yes, it is."
You roll your eyes back at him," Whatever that's not what I wanted to ask anyway." you scooch up onto his chest a bit more and put your hands under your chin as you look into his eye with your best pleading face." Would you do me the honor of being my destresser?"
He could explode right now.
Like seriously what?
".....You want me to what now???"
"Would you rather I phrase it differently?"
"To make sure we're on the same page yes-"
"Fuck the stress out of me buff man."
"Jesus Christ." He practically lifts you off of him like a doll,"If you were going to prank me like this," he sets you onto his couch and walks to his bathroom to go wash the heat off his face, "do it over text next time."
You follow him into the bathroom," It's not a prank! I'm for real okay? Look-" he looks puts his head further near the sink, he doesn't want you to see his red face,"-the way I see it is we're both busy as fuck. We both are mature adults looking for something intimate, which you have not found yet may I add, that could both put someone in danger otherwise." He scrubs his face and takes a deep breath, turning his water off and looking at you calmly.
"Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, why me then?" He knows he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but he's not going to do this if it's just for the fun. He wants to actually mean something to you other than someone to fuck. "You could have chosen any one of our other friends. So why me?"
You grab his hands and lift them to your lips,"Izuku, I care about you so much. You're one of my closest and best friends in the entire world and I am so lucky to have you. You have supported me in any way you possibly could, and I hope that I've done the same for you. So I want us to support each other as much as we need in this." You look him in the eyes," Plus you could snap me in half and are one of the only people I could fight that has the stamina to keep going at me."
".....you're so fucking lucky I like you. Fine! Okay fine."
"YES!"
So for the rest of the night(morning?), you two plan out how this is going to work. Rules, boundaries, kinks (by god he's going to need a break), and what times you guy can and can't.
It works well actually. Better than Izuku expected. He's just ecstatic he gets to finally hold you.......until he doesn't.
Now Izuku knows you two discussed boundaries and the fact you can call each other practically any time but for the next week, he seriously couldn't get the mind power to just swallow his fears and call you up. Not to say he wasn't thinking of you, by god he did that every single day even more since then, he just didn't want to bother you.
But then you called him. It was 11 pm and you were very horny. He picked up the phone and immediately just, "Hello?"
"I need you to plow me into my mattress it's been a week, come over as soon as you can, I'll be waiting sir-"
And that was the end of the call. Your house is like 20 minutes away from his but he somehow made it there in 10. He didn't even text you he was coming, so you thought he was busy.
So you were just on your couch, scrolling on your phone until a rushed knock at the door, you opened it, and were immediately kissed on the mouth.
Just a whole ass surprise makeout, he holds you up in his arms and pushes you against the door. You pull away to breathe and just look down to see this large monster of a man pressing his massive chest to yours, heaving so out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon (he practically did). Just staring up at you so desperately, you're not going to lie it was a nice view. You laugh a bit hysterically as he kisses you repeatedly. Then he works his way to your neck, still holding you up with his arms but fondling your chest and ribcage. He nips your neck and sucks so hard you're sure to have some nice little hickies in the morning. You moan as he pulls on your nipples and rubs your pecs in his hands.
Your mind goes fuzzy as you hear him whisper, "Dirty little slut left me with nothing after your little call. Think it was funny?" He kisses your neck again, licking down to your collar bone, "Think it's funny to leave me with nothing? Just the thought of this dirty little pup begging me to come over?"
You moan into a laugh at the fact he seems more desperate for this than you are. "Laughing now are we?" You immediately quiet down, his hands travel to your waist, and grinds his leg into your crotch.
"Oh gods-" He pushes into you again as you moan,"-f-fuck!"
"Damn puppy. Didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth. Why don't you show me how you use that little mouth when I actually get started with you."
He takes you into your bedroom, pressing your hard dick against his own and sucking on your neck even more.
You pant heavily onto his shoulder shaking from anticipation as he brings you into your room.
He pushes you down on the bed into a folded missionary position. You're hazy and in hysterics, as he talks more, "God, look at you! What a fucking slut for me. Come on puppy look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."
You look up and his smile is devious. It's alluring. He's practically ravishing you with his eyes. He’s taking your clothes off and feeling you up, “Your tastey skin, so smooth and soft. Do you know what I’m gonna do to it puppy?” Your head is swimming with full unbridled warmth and lust, you can’t even respond so he takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him,” I’m gonna mark you up so well, give you all the hickies and bites I want to put on you until you’re barely unbruised. How does that sound?”
You yell out, “Yes! YES! Puppy will be good for you please? Want it so bad.” He laughs at your responses, leaving your naked body vibrating on the bed and he moves away to take his own clothes off. His toned muscles flexing without meaning to as he takes his shirt and pants off of himself. Sliding his boxers down his toned calfs.
You stay laying there, letting out hysteric laughs and panting as he stretches you out with his fingers. And he keeps his promise, biting and niping all over your thights and stomach. You fall from your hysterical high as he pulls his mouth away until he takes your dick in his mouth and you’re pushed all the way back up the hill, arching your back and crying out for him as you grab the head board.
God you haven’t been so sensitive since you don’t even remember when. He’s sucking you off and his fingers are reaching just the right spots in you. Sliding onto his fingers down to the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger, flexing and massaging just the right spot, just until he takes a deep breathe. Then he takes all of you into his mouth and presses down on your most sensitive spot,” OH GOD, FUCK! Yes~ IZUKU PLEASE, I’M CUMMING!”
You cream into his mouth so hard. He pulls himself up off the mattress and off your dick once he finished sucking it all out of you. He licks the rest off his lips and hums in delight,” You taste better then I’ve ever imagined.” Ah, you blush so red as he said this. You think to yourself, he was just saying it for dramatic effect. For the moment! It couldn’t possibly be true....
God if only you knew how true that is from him.
He pulls some of the excess cum off your dick and you shiver a bit at his fingers grazing your tip. His magic hands. And he brings them to lube his dick back up,” Gonna fill my puppy with their own cum, how about it, slut?”
His eyes are crazy, this is a whole new side of Izuku you’ve never seen from him. And by the gods above are you excited to see it.
He presses your legs down so they’re almost flat by your arms and climbs up halfway atop your thighs. He slides himself into you and,” f-f-UCK!” He’s fucking huge.
Your partners have been quite average in the past. Nothing to scoff at but not as big as Izuku. You feel lightheaded as he pushes himself all the way in. “Look at you, my pathetic little puppy, breaking on my dick. Not even halfway there pup, but I’ll be nice this time.” He stops and you thank god and curse at him as well. You feel like you’re gonna be ripped apart yet you still crave so much more.
He gives you a second to catch your breathe, then he leans over, presses your legs farther, and starts pounding into your pretty little hole. Absolutely destroying your insides. You’re crying and whimpering and all it does is drive him to go faster and harder. To milk all those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth. You’re crying on his dick and it fuels his ego,” You’re crying already? God look at you, so pretty and stupid on my dick. Such a good useless pup. Never had dick this good. Are you seeing god or something pup?”
His smirk is returned with teary eyes looking up at him, drooling at him,” Ye-ugh fUck-yes God, love your dick so much.” Oh fuck. That’s new.
It was so hot, imagining you praying and worshipping “your God’s” dick. Izuku being rode by you as you cry out for your God.
He laughs hard and leans down to get a better grip on the sheets, stopping for a moment, and then pounding you into the mattress. It felt like he was trying to hammer you down into the mattress to press you hard enough you’d become one with it. “That’s right baby! Ahaha! You feel so good I’m your god? My little puppy’s so dumb on their god’s dick right?”
You cry out to him, repeating over and over,” God! My God! Please god!” And you cum hard, over and over on his dick for the rest of the night. Orgasming and being fucked through your over sensitivity again and again and again until dawn. He finally gives in after getting his fill of filling you up.
God, he was definitely the right one to go to.
And all Izuku could think about you as he cleaned up and got ready to go to sleep with you was how fucking thankful he was you broke all his boundries for him. And accepting the fact that yes, he is the biggest simp for you.
————
-Laika
#Izuku smut#deku smut#x male reader smut#Deku x male reader smut#Izuku x male reader smut#bnha top izuku smut#bnha top deku smut#top izuku smut#top deku smut#bottom male reader smut
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| sanctified |
Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby
____________________
Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile.
Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace.
And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat.
He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.
Until he met you.
You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on.
“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.
If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought.
The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together.
And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile.
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass.
And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point).
Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day.
Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you.
Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him.
“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.
“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin.
His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine.
11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you.
Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.
Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him.
“I’m- I’m gonna-”
Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.
“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”
You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy.
“What if I just-”
Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.
“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.
“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”
Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously.
“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure.
Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath.
After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.
“What is it?”
You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit.
“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.
He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his.
“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.
“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”
Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening.
“Alright, I promise I will.”
____________________
And Bucky kept his promise.
Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face.
“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you.
“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”
He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips.
“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him.
“So, where are we going?”
“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head.
“It’s a surprise.”
____________________
Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment.
Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”
It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect.
“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”
Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.
Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers.
“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling.
“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown.
“Now that’s not very nice of you.”
Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.
After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously.
“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”
His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly.
“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”
You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick.
Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched.
“Please.”
It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips.
“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily.
He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest.
No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men.
And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship.
You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair.
Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp.
You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself.
“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths.
It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him.
If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here.
“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly.
Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine.
“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss.
Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum.
____________________
He laid there, next to you.
He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.
No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again.
He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison.
He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day.
____________________
TAGLIST:
@dreamsley @a-ngeli-que @mindyoshiii @agirlinherhead @s-katergorl @ace-27749 @leyannrae @tailsoflightning
#marvel#mcu#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james bucky barnes fic
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our final night alive (simon kalivoda x reader)
summary: the reader and simon are in the bathroom together before it all goes down. and hey, since all their friends are going to “pound-town” as simon would call it, why shouldn’t they?
a/n: i just watched fear street 1994 on netflix and totally fell in love with simon, so i wrote this. i promise i’m working on the requests in my inbox as well, i just had to get this idea out while it was fresh.
words: 1,740
While Kate and Josh go into the girl’s bathroom, you and Simon figure it’s best to leave them alone. So, you follow Simon into the boy’s room, the clothes you’d snatched from the lost and found clutched tightly in your hands.
“Hey, I’ll trade you this Iron Maiden t-shirt for the cardigan,” Simon grins.
“You want to wear this thing?” you ask, raising a brow and holding up the blue knitted nightmare in your hands. You can already tell how itchy the fabric would be against your skin.
Simon nods. “I think it would really accentuate my shoulders. I’ve been told they’re my best feature,” he says, winking.
“Whoever told you that was a liar,” you reply, but toss him the cardigan anyway.
He catches it easily, then tosses you the t-shirt in return.
He wastes no time in pulling the white t-shirt over his head, and you’re thankful to see it gone. It was bad enough that he’d been wearing it for all that time, regardless of the blood stains. You avert your eyes as he strips off his jeans as well.
“Nice tighty-whities,” you mutter.
Simon snorts. “Sorry for putting practicality over fashion.”
“Says the guy putting on a girl’s cardigan to fight monsters.”
“Touché.”
You turn to face the wall, pulling your own shirt over your head, checking your torso quickly for any traces of blood. Finding none, you pull the new t-shirt on.
Out of the corner of your eye, you realize Simon still isn’t making an effort to get dressed. Instead, he’s checking himself out in the mirror, and you can’t tell if he’s goofing off or actually looking for any stains to wash off of his skin.
“You have some blood on your back,” you tell him. “Can’t tell if it’s Sam’s or yours, but better safe than sorry.”
Simon looks in the mirror, tilting his head to catch a glimpse, and furrows his brows. “I don’t see it. Help me out?”
You grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them under the sink. “Turn around.”
He does so, and you find the blood in question and wipe it off.
He jumps under the touch. “You couldn’t have used warm water?” he asks, difficult as always.
“I could let this sink run for five minutes and it’d be warm at best,” you reply. “You think this place has the budget for hot water?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.”
There’s a pause, and you’re still standing behind him, your eyes scanning over the pale expanse of his back, taking in each freckle. His shoulders were pretty nice, actually.
“You know you’ve gotta change your pants, too,” he says.
“Oh, right,” you say, cheeks burning. You go back to the pile of your things. When you look up, he’s watching you. “Am I allowed a little privacy?” you ask.
He smiles. “You could go into the stall.”
You roll your eyes. “Or you could turn around and not be a pervert.”
“Hey, you already saw me in my underwear,” he points out.
You scowl at him, then hook your thumbs into the waist of your pants and pull them down in a quick, fluid motion. You toe off your shoes to take them off entirely, leaving them on the tiled floor. “Happy?” you ask.
His smile fades. “What happened to your thigh?”
You look down and see the injury he’s referring to. Honestly, you’d been so caught up in everything going on, you’d barely noticed the shallow gash in your skin, but now that it was brought to the forefront of your mind, the dull ache began to settle.
“I don’t know,” you reply. “I guess one of those psychos grazed me.”
Simon takes another wad of paper towels. “May I?” he asks.
You nod, and he dampens them under the faucet. “Come put your leg up to the sink.”
You do as he says, wincing at the first contact he makes with it.
“Sorry,” he practically whispers. “I don’t have anything to bandage it up with, but the least we can do is get it clean, okay?”
“Okay.”
His face is close to your bare leg, making goosebumps rise where his nose and lips brush the skin. He’s gentle with you, one hand holding your leg steady while the other dabs at the wound tenderly, and you watch as the red mess slowly begins to clear up, leaving the wound still open but no longer bleeding.
“There, that should be better,” he says. “When we find the others, maybe they’ll have something to patch you up with.”
“Thanks.”
You place both feet back on the ground, standing before Simon, both partially undressed (him more than you) and trying to hide the feelings of terror in both of your chests.
“Do you think Deena and Sam are gonna make up?” you ask.
“Oh, I think they’re probably fucking as we speak,” he replies.
You give him a light smack to the back of his head. “You’ve got such a dirty mind.”
“I’m serious! Kate and Josh are probably doing it, too. The whole last-night-on-earth thing gets people horny, don’t you know?”
“Oh, so we’re all gonna be killed by some freaks, so we should be banging?” you ask.
“Are you asking in general, or about us?”
You pause. “Both.”
His cheeks flush pink, and you swear it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him embarrassed. “In general, yeah, I think it’s human instinct to seek out some pleasure before the end. As for us, well...If you’re down, I’m down.”
You stare at him for a second. “Really?”
“Only if you want to, I mean—”
You grab him by the shoulders and kiss him, effectively cutting off his rambling.
In no time, he’s pushed your back against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom, kissing you back fevertently. You thread your fingers through his blond curls, and he sighs against your lips.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, breathless.
You nod, and he brings a hand between your legs, fingers running over your underwear teasing, making you shiver.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Yes,” you reply.
“I’ve never done this before,” he says, unable to meet your eye. “But I have a pretty good idea of what to do.”
“Me either,” you tell him. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”
He nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this time rubbing you through your panties. You whine softly into his mouth.
“Does that feel good?”
“Try doing it a little gentler—oh, yes, like that…”
You can feel his hard cock against your belly as he reaches his hand down the front of your underwear. “Is this okay?”
“Yes, yes, it’s fine.”
Carefully, he finds your hole and presses one finger inside, making you clench nervously at first.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Do you want me to stop?”
You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Try to relax for me,” he all but coos in your ear, and you do so.
He lets his finger slowly curl and uncurl inside you, stretching you out.
“Do you want to…?” you ask.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says, knowing exactly what you were going to ask.
“Well, if you get me pregnant, we’ll probably be dead before it’s even got arms and legs.”
He chuckles, and you appreciate that he’s able to find humor in the fucked up things, just like you.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He yanks down his underwear, and while you’d teased him about it before, the tight, white fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination. Simon wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up, bringing you over to the sink and sitting you down on the brim of it.
“There’s no way this thing is gonna hold us,” you say.
“If we break it, we’ll be dead before they make us pay for the damages,” he replies, and you laugh.
He makes quick work of pulling your panties down, and they fall to the floor as he parts your knees. “Please tell me if I hurt you,” he says. “I want it to feel good.”
You nod. “I promise.”
He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing his hips forward. He misses the first time, sort of poking the head of his cock into the crease of your thigh, and you both chuckle awkwardly at the mishap. The second time, he gets closer, but his cock slides upward and between your folds, making your legs jerk in surprise.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The third time, he succeeds, and the initial stretch of his head entering you makes your breath catch in your throat.
“Should I stay still for a sec? Let you adjust?”
You nod, and so he does.
“You can move now.”
Slowly, he rocks his hips forward, and you manage to take more of him. Without you asking, he waits again, letting you get used to the feeling.
Your nails dig into his back. “You can go, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Simon, I’m sure,” you reply.
“Alright, I’m just double-checking!”
He fucks you carefully, his own movements a bit robotic at first, but when you pull him close to lock your lips together once again, he falls into a rhythm, and your ass hurts from sitting on the stupid sink, but he feels so good, his hot breath tickling your neck as he fucks you.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I’m already—”
“It’s fine, don’t apologize. You can come, just try to pull out,” you say.
He nods, and you can see him scrunching up his face, trying to gain some control and keep from cumming. It doesn’t make him last much longer, and he pulls out just in time, and you scoot to the side in a hurry, his come landing in the basin of the sink.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I can try to finger you again, or something.”
You laugh. “Simon, it’s fine. Some dudes would have come just from seeing me in my underwear. It’s fine.”
He nods, and his forehead is slightly sweaty, hair sticking to it, and his cheeks are flushed.
“I feel bad if you die and I didn’t give you an orgasm,” he says.
“Well then let’s both try our hardest not to die, and you can give me one another time. Deal?”
He grins. “Deal.”
#simon kalivoda#simon kalivoda x reader#fear street 1994#fear street#simon fear street#fear street netflix#horror movie imagine#horror movie reader insert#horror movies#horror reader insert
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