not a replacement (one shot) | alex serian x reader
pairing: alex serian x fem!reader
word count: 2.2k
description: you work in some big theater where this handsome musician will perform.
warnings: cheating, forced proximity, age gap (alex is 35, reader is 25), masturbation, dirty talk?, sexual tension.
author’s note: i really don't know how alex personality is so i'm just creating whatever i feel like cause i can't stop thinking in the damn teaser.
btw: my native language is spanish, i have an english b1 and this is the first time i write something as big in english so if you see some mistakes, you didn’t.
The theatre you work in is majestic, the walls are tall and made of wood making you feel small like an ant. It has more than one thousand seats of dark blue velvet. The stage can hold thousands of artists, and it does it. Every. Single. Night. And you are there every single night too working as one of the assistant lighting designers, though you do other stuff too when it’s needed.
You came thirty minutes early like every day to drink your coffee and have a cigar before your shift starts. You leaned on the grey wall and pulled your phone out, you had to set up the stage for an opera ensemble starting rehearsals today for a performance in two months. So while you drink your coffee, you check the notes your boss gave you.
33 chairs needed, at least today. They would be facing each other in three lines each side. You tried to remember how many chairs would be needed for each instrument family.
As the minutes passed, members of the ensemble started to arrive, women and men of different ages, but mostly older than you – much older. You already knew a few of them, so you said hi with a nod and kept checking your notes.
“I need a cigar too,” says a man who approaches you.
“Tell me you brought yours,” you say without looking at him.
He laughs. “I got mine, but I need a lighter.”
You grab yours from your pocket and hand it to him. “I’m gonna charge you, Bobby.”
“I’ll get you a coffee for the break.”
You look at him. “Okay. I’ll count on it.”
You lit another cigarette to keep Bobby company and once you were done, you both went inside. While the members chatted about the performance and life, you moved to the big hall you had for rehearsals and started setting up the chairs just as your boss told you.
After a few minutes, you gave the musicians the green light to come inside, opening both doors to let everyone in. You saw them enter in a single file, recognizing them from other shows and other events, but you didn’t recognize one—a tall man who looked too polished compared to the rest of the musicians.
You tried to play it cool, but he got your attention. The long curly hair, the beard, the big broken nose… he was just your type. He said hi to his colleagues and sat on the chair you had adjusted for him. He placed the big box on the floor and opened it with quiet reverence. From it, he pulled a brown cello. He settled it between his legs and tested it, making it sound with the bow.
You sat in your small booth to keep an eye on the group, in case they needed anything.
The voices stopped when the director stood in his place. And with one wave of his hand, the music started to play. You looked at him now and then, driven by a primal attraction. His jaw was tense, his curls dancing on his forehead, his arms firm but relaxed. The way he played the cello, all focused and feeling every note, made you think how he would be while… “Stop,” you said to yourself.
When the director stopped to give some notes, this man looked back at you, meeting your eyes. You couldn’t look away; it was a quiet understanding of you admiring his playing. He looked away, paying attention to the director, but you were sure he saw the want in your eyes.
He played again when the director ordered, and sometimes his eyes would find yours. Was he playing for you now? Or was it just that he needed something to focus on besides the music? Either way, he was looking shamelessly into your eyes.
After a long moment, you left the room to set up the stage for tonight's show. While you were working with your colleagues, moving some props and wires, you could hear the music of the orchestra, and then the sound came: his. And when the sound met your ears, you could feel his eyes on you, even from the other side of the theater.
When you came back, they were already on a break. Half of the group was outside, while the other was in the room chatting. Bobby approached you, coffee in hand, and behind him was this handsome guy.
“There you go,” says Bobby, giving you the coffee.
“Wow, you kept your promise,” you joke.
“Well, this means you have to keep giving me cigars when I need them.”
You roll your eyes. “Of course.”
“Oh, so rude of me. This is my friend Alex. One of the greatest cellists you’ll ever meet.”
“Hi,” you smiled at him and introduced yourself. “I saw you playing. Looks like Bobby is right.”
“I do what I can.” He tried to play it cool but the smirk betrayed him.
“What an asshole,” you think to yourself. Instead, you say, “Guess you've been doing this for a long time.”
“Longer than I can tell,” he smiles. “You?”
“Not much. I graduated a few years ago.”
He nods. “Well, it’s nice to see talented girls backstage,” he winks at you.
The wink makes your cheeks turn a soft pink that you couldn’t control. Bobby, on the other hand, didn’t catch the wink nor the tension; he was too focused on what the violist was doing.
“Play Vivaldi,” Bobby says, smiling as he leaves you alone with Alex.
Alex parted his lips to say something, but before any word could come out of his mouth, the director was back, commanding everyone to sit in their places. Alex turned naturally back to his seat and you moved back to your booth.
An hour later, the rehearsal was done, and everyone was gathering their stuff to leave. In just minutes, you were alone, ready to prepare everything for the chorus rehearsal you had tomorrow morning. You only left one light on because your head was hurting, so in the middle of the dimly lit room, you moved with smoothness, knowing exactly how to do your job.
The sound of the door cracking open makes you turn to see who it is. In the soft darkness, you see Alex lurking inside with his big dark eyes.
“You need something?” you ask, turning fully to him.
He finally enters. “I forgot my bow.” he says as he closes the door behind him.
You look around the room. “I haven’t seen anything.”
He stays still. “I’m lying,” he finally says.
“You’re lying?” you tilt your head.
He laughs. “Bobby wanted some beers and I’m too tired for them.”
“Oh, Bobby, of course.” You get closer. “Well, you can hide here while I finish.”
“Thanks.” He looks at your lips. “Need help?”
“Nah, thanks. Just sit.”
He takes a seat close to you and watches you move the chairs as if it were second nature.
“Why the theater?” he finally asks.
“Because someone needs to make it work so you can play your silly box.”
“Rude,” he laughs. “Fair enough.” He plays with the fabric of his pants with one hand. “My girlfriend believes my silly box is pretty inspiring.”
The way he talks about his girlfriend feels out of place, like he is trying to make you jealous, or make you feel competitive.
“Well, that’s why she’s your girlfriend.” You hold his gaze like a challenge.
“Right.” He holds your gaze right back. “But it hurts me that you see my cello as a silly box.”
“Isn't it?” you ask quickly.
“No, it’s… so much more than just that.”
“And that’s why you are a musician and I work with lighting.”
He smirks at your response. “Smartass.”
“What do you want, Alex?” You adjust your posture, which makes your curves even more obvious, even under your work uniform.
“You were watching me,” he says after a pause.
“I look at everyone. It’s kind of my job.”
“Oh, come on.” He leans forward toward you. “No need to lie.”
“I’m being honest,” you smile, not believing what was just happening.
“You are lying, and good girls don’t lie,” he says, teasing.
“Not a good girl.”
He nods slowly. “Good to know.” His eyes meet yours again. “You liked what you saw?”
“Maybe.” You don’t get coy at his attitude; instead, you cross your arms over your chest. “You play nicely.”
“I'm not talking about that.”
“You have a girlfriend,” you remind him.
“She’s in Vienna,” he brushes it off with a shrug.
“Oh, so you're looking for a replacement while she’s gone?”
“Not exactly.” He shakes his head and then meets your eyes. “Why? Are you interested?”
You look away and smile in disbelief. He stands up and comes closer, feeling the warmth of your presence, the soft breath coming out of you. He looks down at your silhouette, the black cotton shirt highlighting the curve of your breast and waist perfectly.
“Tell me you didn’t like it,” he says, looking up at your face.
You look at him. “I didn’t.”
“Liar,” he gets closer.
“What do you want, Alex?” you ask again.
“Right now?” He closes the space to whisper right into your ear, “Show you how good I am at playing the cello.”
You feel a shiver in your whole body at the suggestion. His eyes change to a darker color; now, at this closeness, he looks even more handsome. His beard is patchy and covers the right places, his lips part, and before you could react, he kisses you, his big calloused hands framing your face like they belong there. You should feel ashamed, but instead, you find yourself caught up in the moment, responding to the kiss with the same intensity. The desire was bigger.
He backs you up against the wall as his tongue explores your mouth hungrily. His hands roam your sides with his calloused palms without asking, just taking what he wants because, in your eyes and in the way you breathe, he knows this want is mutual.
He moves fast, looking for the zipper of your black cargo pants, and slides his hand inside, finding the fabric of your panties. “So warm,” he murmurs against your lips. He rubs his fingers there, teasing, and then, he slides inside your panties with two fingers, making you spread your legs. He can feel your trimmed pubes and smirks at you before kissing you. His fingertips easily find your clit, making you bite your lower lip to hide the moan. “So cautious,” he teases, and kisses you again as he shows you how good he is at playing your cello.
He moves his hand deeper and slides a finger inside you as he looks straight into your eyes, determined not to miss any reaction you might have. Your mouth falls open at the feeling of his thick finger inside you, and before you can even process it, he adds another and starts moving them inside you.
His hands move slowly but deeply, with an intention that makes you arch your back in pleasure. He kisses your jaw and neck, enjoying how he can feel on his lips the way you are breaking thanks to him. Only for him. He isn't thinking about his girlfriend; right now, he only has eyes for how good you look while he touches you. He knows what he is doing—after all, he is an expert with his hands—and he's not shy to show you how talented he is.
You move your hips on his hand seeking for more friction, your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping tightly enough to leave marks, not knowing what to do with them, but the need is so big you can’t help but bring him closer by the neck to kiss him again and again. You just want to feel his tongue against yours.
“Fuck, Alex,” you moan, making him smirk.
“Knew you liked me.”
“Shut up,” you smile back.
He holds you in place as he drives you toward your orgasm.
“Tell me you like it,” he commands.
“I do,” you moan.
He smiles and adds the right pressure you need to come undone.
“I’m close,” you cry.
Your confession makes him feel a deep sense of pride in his chest, so he keeps the right pressure and rhythm, cupping your pussy so your clit feels the pressure as he fingers you. In just seconds, you are riding a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body shake and your toes curl. You rest your head on his chest as you try to catch your breath. It hurts to breathe again after holding it for so long, but the rush of air just adds another layer of pleasure. He smells your hair and takes his hand out of your pants to pull your chin up so you look at him. With both hands, and before you can even breathe properly, he pulls you by your neck to devour you until he has had enough. This kiss feels different, or maybe it is the smell of yourself wrapped around your neck that has you dizzy.
When he breaks the kiss, he kisses your sweaty neck and turns around to leave like nothing had happened.
“See you tomorrow at the same time, pretty girl.”
He opens the door and closes it behind him, leaving you still pressed against the wall, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours and his fingers inside you
I took a much-needed break from the beginning of April, detoxing from social media and caring for the puppy I rescued back in December. He doesn’t have an official name yet, but we call him Vaca 🐄 because he looks like one 😅
I saw on your masterlist that you’ve written a Din Djarin fic. I can’t tell you how excited I am to read it!! And I need to catch up on “Somewhere In The Ocean” and “The Days of You and I” one shots 🙃
I’m looking forward to getting back to reading and reblogging and fangirling all the stories on my list.
I’m so happy to be back to loving on my favorite writers and creators ♥️📚🎨. So expect some reblogs and commentary from me 😄😚
Keep on being awesome 💗
- Natalie 🐞
P.S. Have you had the chance to see the “Behemoth!” trailer?? Pedro looks stunning 🤩! And those scenes with Eva Victor? 😍🔥
Omg hi baby!! I missed youuuuuuu 🫶
Omg vaca is the cutest dog ever and I'm sure he is so happy to have found a wonderful family to live with. You are such a sweet human for rescuing him 🩷
I hope you had a wonderful rest, sweetie. I hope it had worked for you and now you feel better. 💌
awwww and you are so so so sweet. I won't mind having you rebbloging everything you want. I will love it, so please do it hahaha 🫶🫶
P.S. OMG YES DON'T TELL ME ABOUT IT HAHAHAH I'M OVER THE MOON 🩷
Take care honey, sending you hugs and so much love
summary: five years later and life with harry has been everything you ever dreamed of.
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader
content warning(s): EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ MDNI), established relationship/family, slight age gap, (harry now in early 50s, reader now in mid-30s), time jump, talks about the difficulty of getting pregnant, harry insecurities, smut - missionary, unprotected piv, light dirty talk, harry pins your hands down and covers your mouth, creampie, oral (m receiving), no use of y/n.
word count: 8.8k
a/n: surprise - update comin' early this week! did y'all miss this story as much as i did? just as an fyi - this takes place 5 years after then came you, so they have 3 kids (stevie - 11, frankie - 6, youngest (you'll find out their name in this chapter) - 5). hope y'all enjoy! this is gonna be a different vibe than vol. 1… it's the calm before the storm <3
pt. 2 || series masterlist. || read on ao3.
Five years later and your life with Harry looked the same, yet different altogether. You both moved into a bigger home, away from the city, but closer to his parents and yours. And two children became three, with hopes for another child.
You ended up closing your chapter with the diner when Sammy—the youngest—was born five years ago. It had been a decision you didn’t take lightly either. The diner and the people there had become your family, long before Harry and long before Stevie. They saw you grow up, so when you decided to leave, it was an emotional goodbye.
But it made sense. You wanted to be part of your children’s lives without worrying about missing special moments, and there were times that you wondered if Stevie ever resented you for it.
Her siblings managed to get all of your attention—something she didn’t quite have the luxury of when she was younger.
Yet, she never complained. Stevie was still the same sassy little girl that Harry met all those years ago, except now, she was just a couple of years away of being a teenager and it showed too. She wanted to spend more time with her friends, asked relentlessly for a phone so she can be like everyone else (Harry caved, like always), but she was still the same girl who had the biggest heart.
Because she’d help you around the house.
She slipped into the role of being the big sister so easily too.
Frankie admired her—wanted to do everything her big sister did.
And Sammy—short for Samuel after the singer, Sam Cooke—was a sensitive little boy who was the spitting image of Harry, who just wanted to be part of whatever his older sisters were doing.
And Harry, he started working more, especially since his parents retired from the company and named him and his brother as co-CEOs.
But he still made time for you, for the family you both created. Harry still looked at you like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, would come home every night and hold you.
Five years later, and everything just felt right.
“Dad,” Stevie sighed, leaning against Harry at the kitchen counter. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, blinking up at him afterwards. “Can I try a sip of your coffee?”
Harry looked down at her and smiled. “No chance, Stevie girl.”
“But I’m tired,” she said.
“Then maybe you should’ve gone to bed on time,” he said, gently tapping the tip of her nose.
Stevie huffed and then yawned dramatically.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
She blinked up at him. Pleading.
He sighed. Harry could never say to no to her.
“Fine. One sip.”
Her eyes widened with excitement and she nodded, leaning up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, yes, of course. Just one sip. That’s all I need.”
Harry narrowed his eyes and then set the mug down in front of her. He knew Stevie wouldn’t like his taste in coffee—black, no sugar or milk.
“Don’t tell mom?” Stevie asked, reaching for the mug.
“You kidding me? Of course not. I don’t want to get in trouble either,” he grinned.
Stevie smiled and then brought the mug closer to her lips. She kept her eyes on Harry before she leaned forward to take a sip. Quickly, the dark and hot liquid hit her senses and she made a face. It was bitter.
“Gross,” she said, turning around and spitting what she had sipped into the sink. “Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t good?”
Harry laughed, shaking his head as he looked at her. “Would you have believed me if I did?”
Stevie narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Well, no…”
“Exactly,” he smiled, gently reaching for her hand and kissing the crown of her head. “Had to let you figure it out for yourself, Stevie girl.”
Stevie leaned against him. “Do all coffee drinks taste like that?”
Harry wrapped an arm around her and shook his head. “No, just mine.”
“So… I’m hearing that I might like mom’s coffee?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I’m positive you will. She likes her coffee with lots of sugar.”
Stevie’s eyes widened. She smiled. “Then, I’ll give coffee another try.”
“Maybe when you’re older.”
“I’m eleven, dad.”
“Yeah, older,” he repeated.
She huffed and then tried to reach for his mug, but he clicked his tongue and took the mug before she could get to it.
“Fine,” she said.
“I said one sip.”
Stevie giggled. “I know. Figured I’d try my luck.”
Harry smiled. “Nice try. I can say no to you.”
“Yeah, sure… but you rarely do.” Stevie smiled, pulling away from him. “By the way, mom said it was okay that I stay after school today. Taylor’s mom will be bringing me home.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Have we met this Taylor?”
“Dad,” she sighed. “He’s cool! We both like the same things and we’re volunteering to help clean up at the school. It’s fine.”
“He?” Harry asked. “Taylor is a boy?”
“Dad—”
“I’ll pick you up,” he interjected. “What time will you be finished?”
She sighed. “Around four.”
“Great. I’ll be there. To pick you up.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“Oh, Stevie girl… if I was overreacting, you’d know it. Now, go get ready for school.”
She sighed loudly and then walked away from him, disappearing around the corner and down the hallway.
“I love you!” He yelled out to her. Harry sighed, hearing the door shut as a response as he looked down at his coffee. Seeing Stevie grow up—seeing his other two children grow up too—have been such an amazing thing to witness, but he did feel sad about it as well.
There would come a day where they wouldn’t need him anymore and Harry was just trying to hold on as long as he could before that day came.
Harry stepped in the bedroom and noticed you come out of the closet with a towel wrapped around your head and a robe covering your body. He bit his lower lip and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.
“Hey,” he whispered.
You smiled and turned in his arms, looking up at him. Your hand moved to his cheek, gently brushing his facial hair. He had gone a bit more grey as the years passed, crows feet more prominent at the corners of his eyes. He aged, just like you did, but he still looked so damn good. If not better.
“Morning, baby.”
“I’m picking Stevie up from school later. After her… event or something.”
“Oh, Taylor’s mom can’t take her home?”
He sighed. “Did you know Taylor’s a boy?”
“Yes,” you answered. “Harry, they’re just kids.”
He shook his head. “I don’t feel comfortable with it.”
“Okay,” you said quietly, nodding. “That’s okay.
“Am I overreacting?” Harry asked, his lower lip jutting out unintentionally.
You cupped his cheek and leaned forward to peck his lips. “No,” you answered. “You’re just a protective daddy.”
Harry sighed and nodded, hands moving to your hips. “She’s not gonna need me anymore, will she?”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Feels like it.”
You shook your head and walked away from him to shut the bedroom door, locking it behind you. With three kids in the house, you both started locking the door, especially when adult activities were happening.
“Baby?”
You walked over to him and gently pressed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him to sit at the edge of the bed. He huffed quietly and unbuttoned his suit jacket, looking up at you as you straddled his waist and undid your robe to reveal your bare front to him.
Harry cleared his throat.
“You know that’s not true,” you repeated. “That little girl looks at you like you hung the moon, baby. She’s growing up, but she’s always going to need you.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“She will.”
“You’re trying to distract me,” Harry pointed out. “Trying to get me to not think about my little girl having a possible crush on a boy who won’t ever be good for her.”
“She’s eleven.”
“You telling me you never had a crush at that age?”
“Well, no…”
“Exactly,” Harry said, eyes dipping lower.
“What will you do when she gets married?”
His eyes narrowed. Harry wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly stood up only to lay you on your back with him above you. “She won’t.”
You smiled and leaned up to cup his cheek. “I love you.”
“This isn’t amusing.”
“I know.”
“You’re looking at me like this is funny.”
“Harry,” you sighed quietly, grabbing one hand and bringing to to rest against your chest. “She will always love you, okay?”
“I know,” he sighed. “I know. I just—she’s my Stevie girl.”
“I know, baby.”
Harry bit his lower lip. “I should trust her, huh?”
You nodded. “And trust me too.”
He nodded, moving his hand from your chest to your breast, covering it with his hand. Harry watched you gasp quietly, looking up at him with lips parted. “You’re good,” he whispered. “You know how to get me out of my head.”
You smiled, grabbing his other hand and bringing it to your lips. You wrapped your mouth around the tip of his thumb, swirling your tongue around it as you felt him suddenly push into you.
“Baby,” Harry groaned. “We’re gonna be late.”
“I know,” you giggled, pulling his thumb from your mouth as his hand continued to massage your breast into his palm. “Mmm, don’t see you trying to pull away.”
“God, how can I? Look at you.” Harry cleared his throat as he pulled away from you, standing upright between your legs as you remained on your back. “How much time do we have?”
“About half an hour.”
He grunted. “Can you stay quiet?”
You grinned. “You know I’ll try.”
Harry smirked, reaching down to undo his belt, followed by unbuttoning his slacks and lowering his zipper. He pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles as he spit into his palm before wrapping a hand around himself. “Oh, I know what you want me to do.”
“Yeah?” You asked, biting your lower lip as you parted your legs for him even further.
“Yeah, baby,” Harry said, eyes taking in every inch of your bare frame. He leaned forward, rubbing the tip of his manhood along you, applying pressure to your clit. “You always did like it when I covered your mouth.”
A strained whimper escaped your lips. You felt him slide the length of his hardened member along your lips, gathering your arousal with each movement. He was hot, throbbing against you lower half and you impatiently reached down to grab a hold of him.
“And you always liked to take your time,” you whispered, guiding him to your entrance. “Please, Harry…”
“God, I love it when you beg,” he smirked, sliding into you in one full thrust. Harry’s eyes fluttered—like it always did whenever he slid into you. Your walls were tight and wet, wrapping around him and sucking him in with each movement.
When you felt him fill you to the hilt, you let out a relieved moan. It always felt like your first time with him—even five years later, you still looked at each other like you both just realized you were both in love.
“Hmm, I’ll beg anytime,” you whimpered, sitting up just so you could remove the robe and the towel from your head. Now completely exposed for him, Harry delivered a rough thrust, causing your body to jerk upwards.
“You promise?” He asked, hands moving to grip your hips. Harry was still in his jacket, dress shirt and tie, but he was completely bare from his lower half. He watched himself slide into you with ease, his length glistening with your own arousal. Harry tried to keep it slow, tried to force himself not to just hammer into you, but it was hard. He never could control himself around you.
“H—Harry,” you moaned, hands moving to grip the end of his tie as you slowly pulled him down.
He grinned and leaned down, brushing his lips along your own. Harry rolled his hips into you, savoring the feel of himself sliding along your walls. “Feel so good, baby.”
“Fuck,” you moaned. The grip around his tie tightened, but he grabbed your hands only to pin them above your head.
“Can’t have you ruining my suit,” he grinned. “Because if you do, I’ll have to change and I—” Harry groaned, one sharp thrust into you. “I actually like this one.”
“Oh fuck,” you said loudly, his free hand coming up to cover your mouth. It was still early, and he certainly didn’t want any of his children barging in either.
“Look at you… at my fucking mercy,” he said, his hips speeding up but being very careful in ensuring he didn’t make too much noise either.
Your moans muffled against his palm, legs loosely wrapped around his hips as you arched your back. He wasn’t going as fast as you’d like him to, but he was still hitting that spongy part deep inside of you with each hard thrust.
“How am I supposed to go to work now?” He asked, growling lowly under his breath. “When all I’ll be thinking about is how good you fucking feel around me, baby.”
You moaned again.
He pressed his hand over your mouth more firmly.
“Gonna let go of your hands now, okay? Be a good girl and grip the sheets if you need to,” Harry smiled, releasing your wrists only to bring the same hand between your legs.
Your hands needed to hold onto something, especially when you felt him begin to apply pressure to your clit and rub it in circles. Instantly, your hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly as Harry continued his movements.
He wouldn’t ever get tired of this, of you. You were an absolute dream. The way you looked as you were nearing the peak of your climax—he’d commit it to memory every chance he could get and still, it felt like it wasn’t enough.
“Harry,” you mumbled into his palm, tightening your legs around his hips to pull him closer.
He grinned. Harry was close too. He sped up his thrusts, but still remaining careful to not make it sound like skin slapping against one another.
You were moaning against his hand, gripping the sheets even tighter, as you felt the pressure build and build until it finally spilled over. Your legs pulled him in, body trembling against the bed, as Harry smirked down at you.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out to his tip only to slide back into you with ease. He could feel how fucking wet you were, how tight your walls were sucking him back in. He moved both hands now to your hips, hearing you gasp loudly as he gripped you tightly.
You bit your lower lip—hard. You couldn’t moan or make any noise as you normally would, but you knew that Harry was close too. You could feel it in the way he gripped your hips, could see it in his face too.
His hips stuttered, eyes shut tight once he felt himself get closer and closer to the edge. Harry’s hands on your hips tightened even further, fingertips digging into your flesh.
Then suddenly, after a few more rough thrusts, Harry slammed into you and came. Hard. He dragged his fingertips down your hips to the side of your legs and back up, growling under his breath as he filled you with his come.
You smiled up at him and sat up, careful not to wrinkle his shirt or his jacket as you tugged on the edge of his tie to pull him down. He groaned quietly, rolling his hips slowly before pulling out, biting his lower lip as he looked down between your legs.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Morning, baby,” you teased, leaning up and pecking his lips. “Gonna feel you all day now.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed down at you. “I love you.”
You chuckled quietly. “I love you too. Help me clean up?”
“Always,” he said softly, licking his lip as he looked down to see his come trickle out of you. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”
Then, he stepped away and pulled up his boxers and pants, walking to the bathroom afterwards to grab a small towel to clean you up.
“You ready for the day?” You asked, teasingly.
Harry chuckled and nodded, stepping back between your legs and carefully cleaning up the mess that seeped out of you. “I am now, yeah.”
“Good.”
“But I’m still picking Stevie up,” he said.
You smiled. “I know, baby.”
Then, the both of you heard quiet sounds of footsteps down the hallway. You both looked at each other and smiled.
“Guess the other two are now awake,” you said.
Harry smiled. “Come on, baby. Let’s get the cavalry ready for school.”
Later that morning once all three kids were dressed and ready for school, the three of them sat at the kitchen table each with a plate of pancakes. Harry smiled to himself at the sight of the three of them, keeping an arm around your waist.
“Mama,” Frankie said, looking up at both you and Harry. “We’re going to the park after school today, right?”
“How about we go after we pick up Stevie? That way, it’s all of us.” You replied, walking over to her and kissing the crown of her head.
“And we get pizza?” Sammy, your youngest, asked. You looked across the table at him and grinned—deep brown eyes and dark curls that matched Harry’s.
“Oh, of course,” Harry chimed in. “It’s pizza night.”
Stevie couldn’t help but smile. “I guess… it’s okay that you pick me up then, dad.”
Harry sighed in relief. “Oh good,” he said, walking towards her and kissing her cheek. “I’m glad I have your approval, Stevie girl.”
Frankie giggled and looked over at her older sister. While Stevie had always cared about dressing up and doing her hair now that she was older, Frankie was the complete opposite. She was messy—like Stevie had been at the same age—but she didn’t like dresses or putting her hair in bows. She liked sports, always managed to get dirty and giggle about it too.
Sammy had finished his pancakes first, sliding off his chair and walking towards the kitchen to put his plate away. Harry looked over at him and smiled, following him and picking him up into his arms. “You’ve got syrup all over your face, Sammy.”
The younger boy giggled and then stuck his tongue out to try and clean his mouth. “Mmm, still good!”
Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s wash our hands and face, buddy.” Then, he held Sammy at sink level for the younger boy to reach. While Stevie and Frankie had the same attitude and features as you, Sammy had reminded Harry of himself when he was younger. A sensitive boy who felt so many emotions, but still had the biggest heart like his two older sisters.
“I think I’m clean now, daddy,” he smiled, turning the sink off and reaching for a towel to dry off his hands and face.
“Good job, buddy. You ready for school?” Harry asked.
Sammy nodded. “My teacher said I’ll be able to write my name soon.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry smiled. “You excited?”
The young boy grinned. Dimples appeared at his cheeks. “Yes, then I can start writing you and mama letters too.”
“You’re so sweet, buddy,” Harry chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose. His attention was pulled briefly when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen table, glancing over to see you, Frankie and Stevie giggling amongst one another.
And he stared at you for a few seconds longer.
Still, you were as beautiful as the day he met you.
You and Harry stood in front of the school as you dropped your children off. It was Stevie’s last year at this school before moving onto middle school next year, but still, it was convenient that all three of them were under the same school for now.
“Frankie,” Harry said, kneeling down in front of her. “Is it basketball or soccer today?”
Frankie grinned. “Basketball,” she answered. “I think I’ll beat the boys this time.”
He smiled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Give them hell, babygirl.”
“Harry,” you chuckled, moving a hand to his shoulder.
Frankie giggled and then wrapped her arms around Harry, turning her head to kiss his cheek. “Love you daddy! Love you, mama!”
“Have a good day at school, baby,” you said, leaning down to kiss the crown of her head before she turned on her heel to go into the school.
Sammy bit his lower lip. This was his first year in school and he was still trying to find his footing, trying to make friends.
“Mama?” He called out.
You knelt down in front of him. “You’re okay, baby.”
Sammy nodded. “You’ll be here when school is done?”
“Yup, me and daddy will be here.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll see you soon?”
You smiled and gently cupped his cheek. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”
“Love you,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around you before moving onto Harry to do the same.
“Love you, Sammy,” Harry said, kissing the crown of his head.
Once Sammy walked into the school, Stevie was already about to turn on her heel before Harry gently tugged on her backpack.
“Um, hello?” He said.
You smiled and watched Stevie turn around.
“Dad…”
“Give us a hug and tell us you love us,” he said.
She rolled her eyes playfully. “But my friends—”
“Will see how much you love us,” Harry finished for her. “Isn’t that a great thing?”
You let out a quiet laugh and then gently pulled Stevie into your arms. “Have a good day at school, Stevie.”
She let herself relax in your arms for a second. It felt like she was that same five year old all those years ago. Then, almost like she remembered where she was, Stevie pulled away.
“Okay, my turn,” Harry smiled, tugging Stevie into his arms. “Be good, Stevie girl.”
“I always am,” she smiled.
“See you later, okay?”
Stevie nodded and pulled away to look between the both of you.
“You really will pick me up?” Stevie asked.
Harry answered without pause. “Yes, Stevie girl.”
She nodded and then heard her name being called. She bit her lower lip and then noticed the both of you nod once.
“I love you guys,” she said.
Harry grinned.
You smiled.
“We love you too,” you said, leaning against Harry.
“I love you, Stevie girl.” He repeated.
Stevie smiled and then turned on her heel, jogging to catch up with her friends as she walked into the school with them.
Harry sighed and looked down at you. “Why does drop off feel so sad now?”
You looked up at him. “Because our babies are growing up,” you answered, turning around with him to begin walking back towards the car.
Harry nodded in agreement, keeping one arm draped over your shoulder. “Growing up too fast,” he added.
Now that all three kids were in school, you had plenty of time to yourself when Harry was at work too. You had been so used to working that it took a very long time to get used to this. Even Harry had to constantly remind you that it was okay, that he wanted you to stay home. It was his way of taking care of you.
And everyday, you’d show up to his work with lunch. It was ironic, how you were now the one to make sure he was eating during his lunch break when he used to do it for you.
As you walked toward his office with the food you cooked, you heard Peter from behind you. Turning, you looked over to see the other man who was grinning at you.
“My brother’s lucky,” Peter said, now walking alongside you. “I should convince Charlotte to visit me during my lunch.”
You laughed quietly and shook your head. “Charlotte’s seven months pregnant. You’d be cruel to have her come here,” you teased.
“You’re right,” Peter chuckled. “I should be going home to her to make sure she’s resting.”
“Second pregnancy tough on her?” You asked.
He nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “That and it took a while for us to get pregnant a second time.”
You nodded in understanding. Both you and Harry were experiencing your own troubles with getting pregnant again. “Well, just make sure you’re there. I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“What about you and Harry? Trying for a fourth?”
You smiled. “Trying, yeah. No luck.”
Peter gave you a look of understanding. Then, he reached to rest a hand over your shoulder comfortingly. “Well, you guys will figure it out. You always do.”
You nodded and then glanced over at Harry’s office door. “Is he overworking himself?” You asked honestly.
Peter shrugged. “We’re co-CEOs, but I feel like since Charlotte got pregnant, he’s been taking more of the responsibility.”
“So… that’s a yes. He’s overworking himself.” You bit your lower lip.
“I tried to tell him I can handle it,” he whispered. “But—”
“He doesn’t want to burden you,” you finished for him. Then, it was your turn to reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. “Just look out for him when you are here, okay?”
“Always will,” Peter smiled. He reached out and knocked lightly on Harry’s door.
Within seconds, Harry opened the door and you noticed the look on his face before he turned to look at you. You could tell he was stressed—noticed it in his features and his posture too.
“You’re here,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice.
“Did you forget?” You asked.
Harry shook his head. He glanced over your shoulder at Peter and nodded. “Lost track of time.”
“Take a long lunch,” Peter said. “I’ll get to the next meeting.”
“You should be going home,” Harry replied. “Charlotte is—”
“I can handle one meeting, Harry,” Peter interjected. “I’ll go home after that one, that okay with you?”
He sighed. Harry glanced at you and felt the tension in his shoulders loosen just at the sight of you. He finally nodded at Peter and gently reached for the bag of food you were carrying. “Okay, sure. Yeah, thanks,” Harry said. “But if you need to go—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted. Peter gave you a hug before leaving both of you at Harry’s office.
“I’m sorry, baby, come in, come in,” he said, opening the door further for you to step inside. Once you were, Harry shut the door and locked it, bringing the food to the coffee table where the couch was at.
“How many cups of coffee have you had?” You asked, biting your lower lip.
“Three.”
“Harry.”
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Harry removed his blazer and set it against the back of his office chair before he walked back over to you, wrapped his arms around your waist. “Missed you, though.”
“You need a break,” you sighed. “You’re… overworking yourself, baby.”
Harry shook his head and leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Just making sure this company doesn’t go under. My parents trusted me—”
“Trusted both you and your brother,” you corrected.
“He’s got a baby on the way,” Harry sighed.
“And you have a family too,” you replied. “You know, if your mom ever found out how much you’re working, she’d—”
“She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it,” Harry interrupted quietly. “Yeah, I know.”
“Can you just—try to take it easy?” You asked.
He bit his lower lip. “Okay,” he answered. “I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
Harry nodded and moved a hand to your cheek. “Yeah, baby. I promise.”
“Good, now, let’s eat?”
He smiled and leaned in to peck your lips. This time, he lingered though. “What if… what if I want to do something else before we eat?”
You hummed against his lips and moved your hands to his shoulders. “Is that why you locked your door?”
He chuckled and nodded, moving his lips to your jawline now. “You’re my stress relief,” he whispered. “Whenever you’re around, I don’t feel the weight of this company on my shoulders. Feel like I can breathe.”
“Maybe I should be here more often then,” you teased.
Harry pulled back to look down at you. “Really?”
“What would I even do here?” You asked.
He shrugged. “Just… stay in my office? I don’t know.”
“How about… when you feel like the walls are closing in on you, you send me a text and I’ll make my way over here?” You suggested. “Or… you can pencil me in everyday and we can take a walk in the park every morning.”
Harry nodded. “How about both?”
“Yeah?”
He leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. “I just… feel better whenever you’re around.”
“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll take a walk every morning—does ten sound good?”
Harry kissed your cheek before releasing his hold on you to go back to his desk where his computer sat. He pulled up his calendar and nodded, setting a daily meeting every morning at ten. Now, his assistant would know to never schedule a meeting at that time.
“Ten in the morning. Everyday. You and me,” Harry said.
You smiled and then reached for his hand once he made his way back over to you. “Good. For now, you need to eat.”
He nodded and sat on the couch, tugging you onto his lap and holding you there for a few seconds longer. “I love you, baby.”
You smiled and draped an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his temple. “I love you too, Harry.”
He stared at you and let the corner of his lips. He rested his head against your shoulder as you reached for the Tupperware, opening the lid and handing it to him.
He knew he had been working a lot lately. More so than usual. But since his parents had retired and named him and Peter as co-CEOs, he had taken his role seriously. Harry had lots of ideas to expand the company, to make even more money than his parents could ever dream of, but he didn’t want it to be at the cost of his relationship with you or his family. He was still trying to balance work and his home life.
Stevie was the last one to be picked up after her after school clean up with other kids, especially Taylor. Harry watched his little girl come out of the school building with a young boy standing next to her and he could have sworn he had never seen her this smitten before. The boy was inching closer to her and Stevie bit her lip from smiling. It wasn’t until she looked up that she saw Harry with his arms crossed over his chest and his brows pulled together.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taylor,” Stevie smiled.
“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay. Thanks for volunteering with me.”
She nodded. “I’m always happy to help.”
The boy stopped walking and looked at her with nervous eyes. “Do you think—do you think I could sit with you tomorrow at lunch or something?”
Stevie’s eyes widened. Her smile grew. “Yeah, I think that’d be cool.”
Taylor grinned. “Cool, yeah, that’s… that’s awesome.” Then, he leaned in and gave her a one armed hug before he pulled away abruptly, turning on his heel and jogging to where his mother was parked.
Stevie could feel the warmth in her cheeks as she walked over to Harry, noticing that you were seated in the passenger seat of the car behind him.
“Dad…”
“He hugged you,” Harry said. “Was that okay with you?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Can you… not make a scene? In case he’s looking,” Stevie whispered, turning to look over her shoulder in time for Taylor to wave at her. She waved back and then turned her gaze back on Harry. “Please?”
Harry sighed. He had been stressed at work. He didn’t want to be stressed about this too. So, he gently reached out and took Stevie’s backpack from her. “Okay, I can be… cool.”
“Are you sure? It looks like you want to say something.”
“I just—it’s nothing.”
“Dad.”
Harry sighed and gently took her hand, pulling her to his side as he let out a breath of relief when Stevie leaned into him. “You’re just getting bigger,” he said. “One minute you’re that same five year old girl who wanted to be around me all the time and now you’re… you’re a preteen with a crush.”
“I do not have a crush!”
Harry chuckled. “Stevie girl, touch your cheeks. They’re warm, aren’t they?”
“So?”
“So… you’re blushing.”
She sighed. “For the record,” Stevie said, opening the door to the car once they were close enough. “I still want to be around you all the time. You’re just… busy with work.”
Then, she climbed in and Harry felt his heart drop. He heard the muffled sounds of greeting as the door shut, biting his lower lip. Stevie had noticed it too. And if she noticed his stress, he was sure Frankie and Sammy did too.
Harry set her backpack in the trunk before rounding the car to the drivers side. He pulled his phone out and texted his mom. Simple, two words that meant so much more. Meant that he was struggling, meant that he was lost.
HARRY: Need advice.
His mother didn’t waste a second to reply. He looked down at his phone at her response. Harry let out a breath. She replied and said that she’d come by the office tomorrow.
After the five of you walked Central Park, Harry kept a tight hold on your hand as your three kids walked ahead of you to go to the same pizza shop that you had been going to with Stevie when it was just the two of you. Marco was like family now, watching your family grow over the years.
“Stevie noticed that I’ve been busy at work,” Harry said with a sigh. “Do I make it that obvious?”
You looked over at him, tightening your hold on his hand. “You just… wear your heart on your sleeve and your expressions say everything.”
“I expect you to notice that, but Stevie?”
“Harry, she’s always been aware of your emotions. Mine too. Even at a young age,” you answered.
He sighed. You were right. Stevie was such an empath—always noticing and feeling other people’s emotions. “I should get better at hiding it.”
You shook your head. “Hiding it doesn’t fix it.”
He bit his lower lip. “Right.”
“Will you at least reach out to your mom?” You asked.
Harry squeezed your hand. “Already did, actually. She’s coming by the office tomorrow.”
“Good,” you said, leaning up to kiss him cheek. “She did this before too, you know. Both your parents.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered. “Not for the company. Not for us.”
Harry’s eyes softened down at you. “It’s hard,” he answered honestly. “I just want the best for you guys and for the company.”
“We’ve got it already,” you answered. “We’ve got you, baby.”
The corner of his lips lifted. “You know all the right things to say.”
You smiled proudly. “I learn from the best. Not too long ago, you were the one saying all the right things.”
Harry looked down at you. He noticed the age in your features now, the subtle strands of grey streaked in your hair. You were still younger than he was, but having three kids did tend to age you a bit.
And yet, you still looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “Thinking when we get back home, after the kids are asleep, we can have more alone time?”
You smiled. “I think I’d like that.”
Harry smiled and kissed your temple. “Good.”
As the five of you approached Marco’s, Sammy was the first one to speak.
“Cannoli?” Sammy asked, looking over his shoulder at both you and Harry.
You smiled and nodded. “After dinner though, baby.”
Harry pulled you closer, releasing your hand only to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Just like Stevie,” he mumbled with a quiet chuckle.
“I think Frankie’s the only one who isn’t too big on sweets like the other two,” you smiled. “Our little athlete.”
The three of them jogged inside with excitement in their eyes. Harry chuckled and kissed your temple, nodding over to the same table. “I’ll grab the food.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, baby,” Harry said, hand moving from your lower back to give a gentle pat to your ass. “Now, go. Sit down.”
“Naughty, Mr. Castillo.”
He grinned. “You like it, Mrs. Castillo,” Harry winked. He walked into the pizza shop as you moved to sit at the table, smiling to yourself as you watched the four of them with loving eyes. You couldn’t believe that five years ago, you and Harry shared a pizza on the very first day you met.
And now, here you both were, five years later. Married. With three kids.
Sammy ran outside and climbed into your lap, snuggling closer to you as the two other girls remained inside with Harry.
“Hi, baby,” you said, cradling Sammy in your arms. “How was school?”
“Good,” he answered. “I made a friend.”
You grinned. “You did? That’s amazing, baby.”
Sammy smiled to himself. “Yeah, he’s nice. He’s new to the school.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Sammy nodded. “I volunteered to help him in class.”
You looked down at him and cupped his cheek. “You’re so sweet, Sammy. I bet it was nice of him to not feel alone on his first day.”
“He said he was sad,” he said. “Because all his friends were back home where he used to live.”
“And now he’s got one friend here,” you said, gently tapping the tip of his nose.
Sammy grinned and nodded to himself, nuzzling his cheek further into the crook of your neck now. You held him closer to your chest and shut your eyes, reveling in the sounds of the city.
“Alright, Frankie, Stevie, what are we getting?” Harry asked, keeping a hold on Frankie’s hand as she slid her own into his.
“Pepperoni,” Frankie answered, looking up at Harry with a grin.
Stevie nodded in agreement. “And cannolis.”
“And breadsticks!” Frankie added.
Stevie giggled. “Yes, breadsticks.”
Harry smiled. “Okay, so the works. Got it.” He glanced at Stevie for a moment and noticed her pull out her phone that he had gotten for her a few months ago before she left the pizza shop to go sit outside with you and Sammy. He sighed and then scooped Frankie into his arms.
“How was school, babygirl?”
Frankie leaned against him. “Good. Our team won the basketball game during recess.”
“Ooh,” Harry smiled. She was so different than Stevie and it had been great seeing the different personalities each child had. “So, mama and I were thinking… do you wanna join a sports team or something? You know, outside of school.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah, Frankie. You’ll get to go to practice, play games on the weekend. That sound like something you wanna do?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes!”
He smiled to himself. He didn’t know where Frankie got her athleticism from, but it excited him—getting to go to soccer or basketball games every weekend to cheer her on.
“But first, pizza?” She asked.
Harry chuckled and nodded, kissing her temple. “Yeah, babygirl. First, pizza.”
Frankie smiled and then rested her cheek on his shoulder, holding onto him tightly. Just like Stevie, Frankie was a daddy’s girl. Wherever he went, she wanted to join.
Dinner lasted for about an hour and a half before all three kids yawned, signaling that they were ready to go home and get ready for bed. Harry looked across the table at you, still cradling Sammy in your arms as Frankie leaned against your side, blinking slowly.
Harry glanced at Stevie, seated to his left who had her eyes glued to her phone.
“I think your screen time is done for the day, Stevie girl,” he whispered.
Stevie looked up at him and nodded. “Okay, dad.”
“Been glued to that thing ever since I got you it,” he said.
She shrugged. “Just texting my friends.”
“Friends?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, friends.”
Harry arched a brow. “Taylor being one of these friends you’re texting?”
Stevie rolled her eyes playfully and put her phone away, shaking her head. “He doesn’t have a phone.”
“Oh? So, what I’m hearing is that kids your age can live without a phone.”
“What? No…”
He chuckled quietly and wrapped an arm around her. “Uh huh,” he teased.
Stevie leaned against him then looked across the table at you. “Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?” You said, looking over at her.
“Can you… can you curl my hair tomorrow?” Stevie asked.
Harry arched a brow. He looked at you and noticed your gaze shift to him. You gave him a look, one that said not to say anything. He sighed quietly and looked back down at Stevie.
“Yeah, of course, baby. You gonna wake up early enough for me to do your hair though?”
Stevie nodded. “I’ll be up and ready, I promise… but if I’m tired, can I get a sip of your coffee?”
Harry looked over at you.
“Coffee?” You asked.
Stevie glanced at Harry. “Yeah, coffee.”
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously between the both of them. “Stevie, I don’t think you’d like coffee, baby.”
“Only one way to find out, right?”
You shook your head.
Harry cleared his throat. “Alright, should we get going?” He interrupted.
You arched a brow at him. “You’re acting… suspiciously weird, Harry.”
“What?”
Stevie gently elbowed his side. He looked down at the younger girl. She gave him the same look you’d give him—don’t say anything. He let the corner of his lips lift before he shook his head. “I’m fine, baby. Those two are ready to pass out and this one needs to sleep early so she’s not sleepy when she wakes up tomorrow.”
Stevie giggled.
Sammy stirred in your arms.
Frankie rubbed her eyes.
“Okay then,” you said, looking between Harry and Stevie again. “Are you two hiding something?”
“Nope!” They both said simultaneously.
Harry smiled and then stood up, gently reaching for Frankie and pulling her into his arms. “Ready to go, baby?”
You nodded slowly, standing from the seat as you reached for Stevie’s hand with your free one. “What are you guys hiding?”
“Nothing,” Stevie giggled, leaning against your side.
Sammy buried his face against your neck and yawned, his eyes now falling shut.
Harry walked ahead of you, whispering into Frankie’s ear as she giggled quietly. Her tiny arms tightened even further around his neck as her cheek rested against his shoulder.
“So, curled hair tomorrow, huh?” You said, looking down at Stevie.
She nodded. “I—uh, I’m having lunch with Taylor tomorrow, so I don’t know. I just want to look nice.”
You smiled and adjusted Sammy against your hip before your released Stevie’s hand only to wrap your arm around her shoulders. “Oh, baby, you always look nice.”
She sighed. “Okay, I want to look nicer.”
You nodded and leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “My baby’s got a crush.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s just… he’s nice.”
“Yeah?”
Stevie bit her lower lip. “And he’s friendly… and kind to everyone.”
You smiled and held her closer. “Good, baby. That’s really good.”
“And you know his mom, so…”
“Yeah, she’s kind too,” you said softly. “Sometimes, I forget that you’re eleven. To me, you’re still that same little girl who would get syrup or ice cream all over her face. For a long time, it was just you and me, you know?”
Stevie looked up at you and nodded. You reached up and gently stroked her hair back and away from her face. “I love you, mom. Our family… I love it. It’s what I always dreamed of.”
“And daddy? You know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger from day one,” you smiled. “But that doesn’t mean you get to take advantage of that now that you’re older, okay?”
“I know,” Stevie said.
“So, what’s this about coffee? Hm?”
Her eyes widened. “Nothing.”
“Uh huh.”
She giggled. “I asked for a one sip,” she admitted. “I didn’t like it, but dad said that I might like yours… because you have sugar in yours.”
You laughed quietly and shook your head. “You know, I don’t like daddy’s coffee either.”
Stevie smiled.
Then, you continued. “Also… he’s going to be overprotective, okay? You’re his little girl. To him, no one’s good enough.”
Stevie nodded slowly, glancing over at Harry who kept Frankie close to his chest. “I know,” she whispered.
“You know, he’d give you the world if he could,” you said, smiling to yourself as you crossed the street to walk towards the car. “So… if he’s overreacting, it’s coming from a place of love… and fear.”
“Fear?”
You nodded, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, baby. Us parents… when our kids get older, we think that they won’t need us anymore.”
“I’ll always need you, mom. And I’ll always need him too,” Stevie said quietly.
Stevie gave you a quick hug before jogging towards the car after you all crossed the street. Harry buckled Frankie into her car seat before he felt Stevie collide against him, her arms snaking around his waist as she held onto him tightly.
“Hey…” he said quietly, his arms coming to wrap around her too. “Everything okay?”
Stevie looked up at him and nodded. “I love you,” she said.
Harry’s eyes softened. “Aw, Stevie girl. I love you too.”
She buried her face against him and tightened her hold. “Daddy?”
He felt his heart rate pick up. Stevie had stopped calling him daddy for a while now and started calling him dad—just another sign of her getting older.
“Yeah, Stevie girl?”
“No matter how old I get, I’m always going to need you.”
His eyes watered. “Yeah? Even when you’re adult and you have a family of your own?”
Stevie nodded. “Yes, even then. Especially then.”
Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her even tighter. He kissed the crown of her head and sighed quietly, looking up to see you set Sammy in his own car seat. He knew this was your doing, so he mouthed thank you before you shut the door.
Later that night, after the kids were asleep, you climbed into bed where Harry was seated against the headboard. Before you could even move to lay on your side of the bed, he reached out for you and tugged you onto his lap instead.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hi, baby,” you said softly. “Dinner was great tonight.”
Harry nodded and rested his hands on your hips, leaning forward to peck your lips lightly. “You talked to Stevie.”
“I just… reminded her, that’s all.”
“You didn’t need to,” he said quietly.
“I know,” you answered. “I wanted to. She’s going to get to that age where she’ll want nothing to do with you or me… but I just wanted to make sure she knew that we’re still her parents.”
Harry nodded. “She called me daddy tonight. I don’t think I’ve heard her say that in a long time.”
“She’s always gonna be our little girl, Harry.”
“I know that,” he whispered. “Just wish time would just freeze, you know? Keep them little forever.”
“I know, me too,” you sighed. “But hey, we’re doing this together.”
He smiled at that. His hands moved from your hips to your ribcage, sliding his hands under your shirt. “Have I told you today how lucky I am?”
You shook your head. “Ah, I knew you were forgetting something.”
Harry chuckled quietly. “I’m gonna do better, okay? I don’t… want to miss anymore moments.”
“Okay,” you whispered, leaning forward to pepper kisses along his jawline. “Maybe I should just show up at the office unannounced to distract you.”
Harry felt his manhood stir beneath you. He tilted his head back against the headboard and shut his eyes, moving his hands further up your body until they covered your breasts. He brushed his thumbs of your nipples as you rolled your hips into his, lips moving down the side of his neck.
“Hmm, that could work,” he mumbled, letting out a quiet groan.
You felt his hardening length against your core, grounding your hips further into his. “I love you, you know that?” You asked, pulling back to look down at him.
He looked up at you and smiled. “I know, baby. I love you too.”
“So… will you let me take care of you?”
His brow arched. “What?”
You pecked his lips and then slowly climbed off his lap only to settle himself between your legs. You palmed the center of his boxers, his hardened manhood against your palm now. “Just sit back… let me do all the work.”
Harry groaned and nodded. He looked down at you and bit his lower lip. He couldn’t believe that this was his life. Today was a wake up call for him—he hadn’t been present in his kids’ lives and he certainly hadn’t been present for you either.
“You spoil me,” he mumbled.
“Good. I’m trying to return the favor,” you grinned, moving your lips now to brush against his clothed manhood.
Harry’s hand darted out immediately to hold your hair back, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “Maybe… maybe you should do this every night,” he suggested.
You smiled up at him and pulled down his boxers, watching his manhood twitch against his lower half. “Yeah? I wouldn’t mind that,” you grinned.
“God,” he groaned, watching your lips wrap around the tip of his manhood. Harry cleared his throat, your eyes still locked with his. “Fuck, baby.”
You pulled back and ran your tongue around his leaking tip. A smile still lined your lips. “Harry?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I fall in love with you every day,” you said.
Harry grinned. He reached out with his free hand to cup your cheek. “Oh, baby… I fell in love with you five years ago and I haven’t stopped falling since.”
Before he could continue though, you wrapped your mouth back around him and began bobbing your head slowly. Harry tipped his head back and reveled in the way your lips felt around him, your tongue swirling around the base of him.
“Fuck, baby…” Harry’s hand around your hair tightened as he slowly lifted his hips off the bed. “Wanna try for another baby, hm?”
You nodded, but with his length in your mouth, caused you to just bob around him. He growled before he pulled out of your mouth, his free hand moving from your cheek to grab hold of his base.
“Take off your panties,” he said, licking his lower lip. “And then sit on it. Take what you need, baby.”
You nodded quickly. You were already throbbing and wet between your legs, sliding your panties off like he said before you straddled his hips yet again.
Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling his tip breach your opening first followed by the rest of his girth, stretching you slowly.
Both of you moaned.
You stared into his eyes.
Harry stared back.
“Gonna fill you up,” he whispered. “So much that I’ll be dripping out of you in your sleep.”
You gasped, lifting your hips before sliding back down. “Get me pregnant, Harry,” you added. “Please.”
Harry smiled. Both of you had been wanting to expand your family, but this time, it wasn’t easy. At least not as easy as it had been with Frankie and Sammy.
He gripped your hips and pulled you firmly down onto him. As you sat firmly on his lap, his entire length filling you to the hilt, you both stared at each other and let out a breathy sigh.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” you replied, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.
It had been a while since you and Harry had sex twice in one day. You both just hoped that it was a sign that you’d end up pregnant this time around.
author’s note: it's crazy that i stopped writing my own scripts to write this fanfic but now i can't stop lol. please let me know your thoughts about it, i really want to know
tons of love to @stylesispunk <3
btw: my native language is spanish, i have an english b1 and this is the first time i write something this big in english so if you see some mistakes, you didn’t.
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The bed was small, and you were trapped like a worm tangled in the sheets. The weak air from the fan was the only thing keeping you cool in the stifling Austin heat.
Your phone buzzed softly right by your ear, forcing you to blink your eyes open. Still half-asleep, you sat up and fished the phone out from under your pillow. Your head was dizzy, and your messy hair was living proof of the chaotic night you'd had.
There was nothing important in your notifications—just some random email about a magazine subscription you always forgot to cancel.
The house was dead silent. You checked every room, but your friends were nowhere to be found. Your fingers instinctively went to Tommy’s contact, hitting the dial.
"Hey hun, you're awake!" Tommy said, his voice loud and excited through the speaker.
"Where is everyone at 12 PM?" you asked, your voice raspy and not so friendly.
"Oh, we came to town because David heard there was some local block party going on."
"Oh."
"Lisa tried to wake you up, but you were way too tired… and drunk."
You had a sudden, painful flashback of all the beers you had downed last night.
"Right," you muttered, sounding thoroughly ashamed.
"What aren’t you telling me?" Tommy asked, his tone shifting, sounding more concerned now.
"Nothing. Don’t worry. Have fun."
"You could still come. I can drive back and pick you up. Actually, I know Joel is still at the cabin, he could just bring you."
Your heart skipped a beat. "Joel is here?"
"He's not?" Tommy paused.
"Haven’t seen him yet."
"Oh. Well, maybe he went out to grab more beers or something."
"Makes sense," you murmured, looking down at the wooden floorboards. "I'll call you if anything," you said before hanging up.
You left your phone on the kitchen counter. Your body was incredibly sore from the long walk, the alcohol, and the rough sex. You needed to get something into your stomach—not because you were actually hungry, but because you hadn't eaten a single thing for dinner last night.
You made yourself a cup of hot coffee and some toast, then sat completely alone in the quiet kitchen. Your mind was racing, thinking and thinking and thinking again about everything that had happened. You couldn't stop thinking about Joel and his switch, heavy movements; about Joel and his bruising kisses. About Joel fucking Miller.
You remembered that when you had slapped him back by the lake, you had felt a sudden, sharp pang of desperation radiating from him. A man you had known for so long had been watching you with the wrong eyes, but the moment his lips crashed into yours, you couldn't help but kiss him back. And that kiss had been perfect in its own chaotic way: passionate, needy, and entirely his.
But when it was all over and he suddenly turned so distant, you felt scared. Truly terrified. You had started doubting what had just happened, and even though you tried your best to stay calm, your trembling voice and wide eyes had completely betrayed you.
Right there, under the moonlight, you had asked him in your most vulnerable tone not to push you away.
"I’m not doing that," he muttered, his voice tense.
"Joel," you pleaded, your voice cracking. "What is on your mind?"
"Stop," he said, his tone sharp and not friendly at all.
"No. We just—are you seriously doing this right now?"
"I’m not doing anything," he replied defensively. But then, his eyes caught the soft shine of yours. He saw the genuine hurt reflecting in them, and he knew this time was different. They had crossed a line there was no coming back from. He reached out and grabbed your shoulders with both hands, his grip tight but careful. "Look... I’m just not used to this."
"Used to what?" you asked, deeply offended, ripping yourself away from his touch. "Public sex? Rough sex? Me?"
He let go of your shoulders completely and let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "Can we just not do this right now?"
You stared at his face, searching for any sign of the man who had just held you so fiercely, but he refused to look at you, his gaze locked onto the dirt floor.
You threw your arms up in the air, giving up. "Okay. We won’t do this. Not now, not ever." You spun around and started walking past him.
"Oh, come on. That’s not what I said," he called out, spinning on his heel to watch you walk away, though he stayed frozen in place.
"You know what? If you couldn’t handle me, if you disliked me so much, you shouldn't have fucking fucked me!" you snapped, whipping around to glare at him, fighting desperately to hold back your tears. "I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I don’t deserve your bullshit."
Joel froze. A sharp sting of guilt pierced his chest, but his stubborn pride was far bigger. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable around you yet; to him, the overwhelming emotions he was feeling were terrifying and embarrassing. He couldn't handle the thought of looking weak or pathetic in front of you, so he did what he always did: he pulled a heavy, iron wall between you both.
"Is this some type of sick revenge because I sat on your lap at that Christmas party?"
"What?" Joel asked, visibly shocked, his eyes widening. "No! You honestly think I would have sex with you out of revenge?"
"I don’t know, Joel. Right now, you are a complete stranger to me." A few hot tears finally spilled over your eyelashes, rolling down your cheeks.
Joel immediately closed the distance between you, reaching up with a rough thumb to dry them, but the moment you saw his intention, you turned your back on him and kept walking.
You walked all the way back to the cabin, sobbing softly into the quiet night, with Joel trailing a few meters behind you in a heavy, agonizing silence, completely at a loss for what to do.
Once back at the cabin, he had locked himself inside his truck so no one would see him, while you had moved to the backyard with a bunch of beers, trying to numb the sting.
Now, in the present, the coffee was still too hot to drink, so you ate the toast first. Just as you finished breakfast, you heard the exact sound you didn’t need to hear right now: Joel parking his truck outside. For a fraction of a second, you froze, feeling the sudden, desperate urge to hide just to avoid being seen by him. But you immediately rejected the idea, knowing it would be ridiculous to act that way. You took a deep breath, forced yourself to stay calm, and finally drank your hot coffee.
The screen door creaked open. Joel walked in, carrying a few shopping bags. You didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at you. When he entered the kitchen with the bags, you quietly moved to the sink to do your dishes, before making your way toward the shared bathroom.
"You good?" he asked suddenly, his voice low, still without looking at you.
"Never been better," you said coldly, keeping your eyes forward as you walked past him and into the bathroom.
You felt genuinely disgusted with yourself as you took off your clothes. After everything that had happened by the lake, you had completely skipped taking a shower last night, so this one was desperately needed. You turned on the hot water and stepped into the heavy, suffocating cloud of steam.
As the heat hit your skin, you felt your body relax, and you began to wash your hair. But the moment your hands moved to your nape, you couldn’t help but vividly remember Joel’s large hand grabbing you there so hard. When you started lathering the soap over your body, your palms felt like his—remembering his tight, bruising grip on your hips... and something inside you completely broke. You had experienced quick, rough sex before; it wasn’t new. But this had a massive factor that changed everything. This wasn't some random guy from New York, and this wasn’t just any sex. You couldn't even explain to yourself why he was so damn special to you, but he was, and now the entire situation was becoming deeply painful.
You dried your hair with a towel and moved to the bedroom you shared with Lisa. Just as you were finishing getting ready, a heavy knock sounded at your door. You waited a tense second, your heart hammering, not knowing what to do, but you finally opened it. You just stared at him, your arms crossed, waiting for him to speak first.
"I'm going downtown with the guys," Joel said, his eyes scanning your face. "Want to come?"
"I'm not good company today," you replied flatly, leaving absolutely no room for him to insist.
He nodded silently and started to walk away. Seeing his retreating back triggered something in you. You had only come to this town for a few days; you weren't going to waste them locking yourself in a bedroom just to cry over some man.
"Wait," you called out just as he was reaching the beginning of the hallway. "Just give me five minutes."
Joel paused, nodded again, and turned around, heading straight for the living room couch instead of his truck.
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The truck's air was cool from the AC. You rested your hands on your lap while Joel silently drove next to you. You couldn’t help but notice, once again, the way his arms flexed against the steering wheel. Even now, you couldn’t stop looking at his body, thinking about how gorgeous he was—especially now that you knew exactly what it felt like to be held by him.
Joel was usually incredible at maintaining his stoic demeanor, but right now, with you sitting in the passenger seat wearing that blue light summer dress, he felt completely exposed. Knowing how badly he had handled things last night, he was certain you could see straight through his walls.
The silence in the cab was suffocating him, so he reached out and turned the radio on. Instantly, the vulnerable, aching pain in Gwen’s voice filled the truck as she sang 'Don't Speak':
"Don't speak, no
I know what you're thinkin'
And I don't need your reasons
I know you're good, I know you're good"
He quickly switched the station to something less dramatic, his jaw clenching as he stared straight at the road ahead. But the change came too late; you had already absorbed every single word of the song. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the leather suddenly feeling too hot against your skin. He saw your movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Lisa asked me if somethin' happened last night" he finally said, his deep, Texan drawl cutting through the new radio station's music.
"What did you tell her?" you asked, not looking at him.
"Nothin'” Joel replied. A heavy pause stretched between you before he added, "She was worried 'cause you got drunk out of nowhere."
"It wasn't out of nowhere."
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding against the steering wheel. "I know. But she don't." He glanced at you fast, his dark eyes lingering on your face for a split second before snapping back to the road. "You didn’t need to go and drink all that." he said, a genuine note of worry slipping through his rough tone.
"Yes, I did."
"Come on, sweetie—"
"Don’t," you stopped him, your voice sharp, cutting him off before he could use that pet name to soften you up. "We don’t need to talk. And you don’t need to pretend you care now. You got what you wanted."
"That’s not—" Joel bit his tongue, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on the wheel. He swallowed whatever defense he had left, his jaw tight. "Okay. I ain't sayin' nothin'."
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The town field was full of people having fun, drinking beers, and kids playing around. You suddenly saw your friends laughing and joking about some absurd thing you didn't quite catch.
Lisa ran over to hug you the second she saw you. "My wife is here!"
You hugged her back tightly, finally feeling your body lose a little of the suffocating tension you had been carrying all morning.
"You two look tense" Paul said, joking with you and Joel as you both approached.
"Nah," Joel dismissed him, his Texan drawl low and flat. "Just tired."
"Man, did you sleep in your truck or somethin'?" Paul asked in front of everyone, letting out a chuckle.
Your stomach did a violent flip. You looked straight at Joel, completely unable to suppress your shock, your eyes wide as you prayed your face wouldn't betray you.
"I had a headache," Joel lied smoothly, staring back at Paul without flinching.
"You? Your head is made of steel, man" Tommy joked, punching his brother's shoulder.
Joel faked a low laugh—a hollow, dry sound that you were completely certain you were the only one to catch. Lisa held your hand and pulled you away toward a street bar to grab some drinks, leaving the guys behind.
"Is everything okay?" she asked privately, leaning closer so no one else could hear.
"Yeah, it is." you said, forcing a fake smile onto your face.
"You never drink that much."
"Well... I don't know what to tell you, Lis."
"That’s 'cause you don’t know how to lie to me." she countered, raising an eyebrow.
You let out a soft laugh because it was completely true; you had absolutely no idea what to say to sound convincing right now.
"I don't know if I should even tell you." you finally admitted, looking down at your cup.
"Does it have something to do with that big man over there?" Lisa asked, glancing quickly over her shoulder at Joel, who was still chatting with the guys in the distance.
You nodded, your expression turning much more serious, instantly affected by the heavy weight of what you were about to confess.
"Did you guys fight?"
"Worse," you corrected her in a sharp whisper. "We screwed."
"WHAT?" Lisa gasped, her voice hitting a shocked, high-pitched tone that made a few bypassers look over.
"Shhh!" You aggressively grabbed her by the arm and pulled her further into the crowd to get more privacy. "Yes. And then everything went completely south. Don’t worry, and please, don’t say a single word, okay?"
"Hun... that is not just some random man."
"I know!" you said, your voice dripping with frustration. "Just promise me."
"Okay, okay, yes. I promise, I won't say a word."
A few minutes later you come back grabbing some beers for everyone and just a soda for you.
The day went smoothly—or kinda. You all had lunch there while listening to the local band that was playing, which, to your own surprise, was actually pretty good. You laughed and told stories about your recent work in New York, leaving everyone impressed by how successful you were at your marketing company. For a moment, you finally felt comfortable after so much suffocating tension, but that didn’t last long. Every now and then, you could feel Joel’s unreadable eyes on you. Even when you weren’t even sitting close, your eyes would wander around the crowd, easily finding him or his gaze every single time.
Later, the group moved around the whole town, exploring like little kids, but you were too tired to follow them. You just leaned against a brick wall and lit a cigarette to wait for them to finish. You looked at your phone for the first time in hours; it was already 5 PM, which meant you only had one full day left here. You looked up from the screen and froze when you saw Joel smiling. Joel smiling? you thought to yourself. He was clearly alone since everyone else had walked ahead, but then you noticed her—a pretty blonde girl, clearly flirting with him. And he was smiling back at her like some infatuated teenager.
Your brain moved too fast for you to protect yourself from the heavy scenario it was creating. Your thoughts raced, thinking about how easy it would be for you to just stay in New York or completely ignore his presence like you had done last summer. How easy it would be if you were different. Maybe you just needed to push him a little, try a different tactic... or maybe you just needed to be a random blonde girl from a small town for him to smile at you like that.
Your feet moved faster than your thoughts, and in just a couple of seconds, you were standing right next to him.
"Do you know where Kristin is?" you asked, acting as if you didn’t know the whole group had just gone for a walk.
He looked at you, instantly suppressing the warm smile he had been giving to the girl in front of him.
"Taking a walk" he said, his voice not quite as cold as it had been earlier in the truck.
"Oh." You looked up at him, your posture defensive. "I forgot to tell her I brought her her birthday gift." It was completely true, but it felt incredibly weird and forced to say right now.
"You can tell her that later," Joel replied. Then, he turned his head to look back at the girl, who was clearly still very much into him.
"What are you doing?" you asked bluntly, your voice cutting through the space between you.
He stared at you, visibly taken aback by your boldness. But you couldn’t control yourself anymore. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly; it was pure desperation. It was a suffocating confusion that you couldn't keep inside.
"Just chatting with Pearl" he said, gesturing faintly toward the girl.
You nodded once, then reached out and firmly grabbed his hand, your fingers locking around his wrist. "I need your help. Come with me." Before he could even utter a response, you were dragging him back across the dirt lot to where his truck was parked. You threw a quick goodbye over your shoulder to Pearl, and Joel just followed you, his compliance feeling like second nature.
"What do you need?" he asked, the moment you both reached the side of his truck.
You aggressively rubbed a hand through your hair, suddenly not knowing what had just happened. You never, ever acted like this.
"Are you flirting now?" you asked, your voice dropping to a quiet, fragile whisper that felt way too loud in the small space between you.
"I wasn’t flirting," Joel replied smoothly, though he didn't look at you, his thumb aimlessly tracing the edge of his pocket.
"You clearly were, Joel."
"No, I wasn’t."
"Well, she certainly was."
"And? I’m single," he said softly. His jaw tightened just a fraction, a defense mechanism you knew all too well.
"Yes, I know that. But I'm not talking about your relationship status and you fucking know it," you murmured, your throat burning as you fought to keep your voice steady.
Joel let out a long, rough breath, rubbing his face hard with one hand as if he could physically wipe away the exhaustion. When he pulled his hand down, his eyes looked incredibly heavy.
"So you're just nice to every single girl but me now?" you asked, the raw rejection finally bleeding into your tone.
"That’s not true," he whispered, his deep voice cracking slightly.
"You keep saying that, but you do absolutely nothing to prove me wrong."
"Why can’t you just stop pushing?" Joel pleaded, his voice laced with a quiet, desperate tiredness. He stepped a single inch closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you.
"I’m not pushing! But even if I was, I have every damn right to do so." A heavy, suffocating silence fell between you. The noise of the distant festival faded into nothing as you dropped your shield completely, looking up at him with wide, aching eyes. "Why did you sleep in your truck last night, Joel?"
Joel closed his eyes for a second, his chest rising and falling in a slow, ragged breath. When he opened them, they were guarded. "Why did you go and get drunk?"
"Because you used me!" you shot back, the words flying out of you fast, raw, and completely unbidden, a sudden tear escaping and rolling down your cheek.
"I didn’t use you," Joel said softly, his voice dropping into a deep, desperate rumble, completely frozen by the sight of your tears.
"Well, I feel pretty much used and tossed aside! Especially when some random pretty girl is flirting with you right in front of my face and you act like everything is completely normal."
This right here was one of the main reasons Joel always stayed away from you. Because you were too honest. You were never ashamed to be vulnerable, raw, and real. You were always asking questions, always wondering out loud, while a man like him needed months just to process his own chaotic feelings—months just to collect his thoughts about something as deeply terrifying as having a massive crush on his little brother’s best friend.
"I’m not like you, okay?" he finally said, his deep voice barely a whisper as he looked down at his boots. "You’ve always been this bold woman who just takes everything in her path with her honesty. For me... it’s complicated."
You looked up at him with soft, aching eyes, the anger completely draining out of you, leaving only raw exhaustion.
"I’m not asking for too much, Joel," you pleaded softly, the words catching in your throat. "I’m just asking you not to be mean to me. Especially when you know how much you mean to me."
He let out a long, ragged sigh, his shoulders slumping as if a heavy weight had just settled on them. "You're right. I’m not being fair to you... but God, it’s so damn hard."
"Why?" you whispered, stepping just a fraction closer, searching his guarded face. "Why does it have to be hard?"
"'Cause... 'cause I don’t know how to do this," he confessed, his voice cracking with a vulnerability he had never shown anyone before. He finally looked into your eyes, his gaze desperate. "And you... you're you. And I feel like I would never fit into your world."
"That’s some bullshit, Joel."
"Is it?" he asked quietly, a bitter, humorless smile touching his lips.
"We are nothing, Joel," you said, the cold truth of the words stinging your own chest as you blinked away a fresh tear. "But I’m pretty sure that if we were... I wouldn’t ruin it like this."
"You're right. I’m an asshole," he finally muttered, his shoulders dropping in complete defeat.
You looked down, feeling utterly devastated, the heavy realization crashing over you that this was going absolutely nowhere. This was over before it had even started, and he didn't even know how badly you had wanted it to work. You had never been scared of rejection, nor had you ever feared a relationship failing. But this man... this man had just completely shook the ground beneath your feet. With nothing but his guarded actions and those big, brown puppy-dog eyes, he had made you feel things that no other man had ever been able to do.
You forced yourself to swallow the painful knot tightening in your throat.
"Pearl must be waiting for you," you whispered, gesturing faintly back toward the festival crowd.
"I don’t care about Pearl," Joel said, his deep voice thick and laced with genuine hurt.
"You don’t care about me either," you said, your voice cracking completely.
"Don't say that," he whispered softly, his eyes searching yours with a sudden, desperate vulnerability as he tries to close the space between you.
"Stay away" you said, the tears finally spilling over your eyelashes as you spun around, walking away and leaving him standing completely alone by his truck.
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Darkness came as you arrived back at the cabin. This time, you had gotten into David’s car to relax a little on the ride home, and it had actually helped. David was so handsome and charming; you loved being around him. His aura was always positive, the kind of friend who would give you a hug without even asking, and that’s exactly what he had done when he found you crying in the street earlier. He hadn’t asked for a single explanation; he had just held you tightly until you finally felt better.
The guys started preparing a barbecue while you got the outdoor table ready. Lisa and Gigi were inside checking why the music wasn’t playing outside yet, and Kristin was helping the men with whatever they needed.
The mouth-watering smell of the meat quickly worked up your appetite and everyone else’s. Soon, you all sat around the table in the backyard, sharing food, loud stories, and old memories. That was when you remembered the conversation from earlier and stood up to go get Kristin’s birthday gift.
It was a medium-sized bag with a pretty lace bow. She definitely hadn’t expected anything from you since her birthday had been a week ago, but you could see the pure excitement in her eyes.
Her hands opened the bag carefully, and inside she found a small leather case. It contained a vintage pair of sunglasses she had been dreaming about for years.
"OMG! No way!" she squealed.
"Do you like them?" you asked excitedly.
"Of course I do! They are absolutely perfect!" she cried, moving over to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug. "Where did you find them?"
"In some local vintage store near my place. I thought of you the exact second I saw them."
"OMG, I love you so much," she said, squeezing you in another warm hug.
The interaction made everyone smile. Everyone in the group knew how much Kristin loved fashion and how much she loved collecting special, unique pieces, and now you were sharing that passion with her too.
Later into the evening, Paul and Gigi went to bed early, leaving the rest of you sitting around the outdoor table. Tommy immediately started complaining about Paul, whining about what a total dork he was. Everyone laughed because Paul hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but Tommy just couldn’t handle the fact that a beautiful girl he had let slip away was now seeing his silly friend from college.
"Don’t be so hard on him," Joel said, taking a slow sip of his beer.
"I’m just being honest," Tommy defended himself, crossing his arms.
"No, you're not. You're acting like some hurt teenager," you said, laughing softly.
"Well... I am a hurt adult."
"Did you even care about her after you two slept together?" Lisa asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Well… I kept buying my stuff at her store."
"You're the dork then," Kristin said firmly, shaking her head. "She is way too much of a woman for you, Tommy."
"Hey! I have my charm!" Tommy snapped back quickly.
"Yeah... buried under a rock," Joel muttered, his deep voice dry as bone, making everyone burst out laughing. Even you couldn't help but let out a genuine chuckle.
As the laughter died down, Joel met your eyes across the table. There was a faint, unmistakable spark in them—a sudden warmth replacing the cold stone from earlier. Was it just the alcohol? The loose, comfortable conversation? Or was he actually changing?
After everyone left for bed, you stayed behind to clean up the backyard. David had insisted on doing it tomorrow, but you didn’t feel like leaving a mess, so you grabbed a trash bag and started moving around alone in the heavy silence.
You felt Joel’s eyes on you before you even saw him, his large frame leaning casually against the doorframe of the cabin.
"Go to bed. I’ll finish up out here," his deep voice cut through the night.
You didn’t look at him, keeping your focus on the trash as you kept moving. "No. I’m almost done."
He walked down the porch steps, moving toward you. "Don’t be so stubborn."
You finally turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the stubborn one here, Miller."
"For wanting to help you?"
"No. For giving me orders."
He let out a low, rough chuckle. "I’m not doing that. You just look tired as fuck."
"Have you always been this good with compliments?" you shot back, a sarcastic smile tugging at your lips.
"It’s just natural in me," he shrugged, his Texan drawl thick and easy.
"Mhm." You lifted your eyebrows, stepping closer. "A total charmer."
"Watch it now. Tommy may hear you and start yapping about Paul and Gigi all over again."
"Oh no, please. I’m so done with that topic," you laughed, the lingering anger from earlier finally beginning to melt away.
"Good to know I’m not the only one," he murmured.
You looked up at his face, and God, he looked incredibly handsome under the dim patio lights. "Are you drunk, Joel?"
"Me? Nah, I only had three beers."
You nodded slowly, deliberately closing the space between you until you were standing right in his perimeter. "Only three? I swear I saw you holding a few more than that."
He chuckled softly, his dark eyes looking down at you, trapped by your sudden closeness. "Counting my beers now?"
"No. Just noticed you."
"Nah, I just had three. Well... maybe four. What about you, sweetie?"
The pet name makes you blush "Just two."
"So you’re not drunk either."
You shook your head, your eyes locked onto his lips. "Not at all."
Your hand moved instinctively, your palm finding the solid, warm muscle of his bicep. He didn’t flinch, and you didn’t flinch, but the sudden contact made your entire body start warming up. You were standing so close you could feel the natural, heavy heat radiating from his chest, mixed with that familiar, woodsy fragrance he always wore.
"What if we start over?" you finally asked, your voice dropping into a mesmerizing, silky purr.
"Start over?" he asked, visibly confused, his breath hitching slightly.
You nodded. For a split second, you were completely lost in him. You knew this could be a mistake, that you shouldn't be letting your walls down so easily after how badly he had hurt your feelings, but no one wins a war without fighting. Right now, every single inch of your body was screaming for that tall, tanned man.
He held your gaze, his eyes darkening as he saw exactly how much you wanted him, a raw reflection of his own desperate desires. But the overwhelming closeness felt too dangerous for his guarded heart. He took a sharp step back, breaking the touch, and cleared his throat roughly.
"I don’t think that's a good idea."
"You need to stop thinking about me leaving you, Joel."
"It’s not just that," he said, his voice dropping into a soft but incredibly firm tone.
"Then what is it? What the fuck aren’t you telling me?"
"I can’t tell you. It’s... it's embarrassin’," he confessed, aggressively rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly under his stubble.
"Joel. It’s me," you pleaded, your voice softening as you stepped back into his space. "I won’t judge you. But if you keep pushing me away like this..." You didn’t finish the sentence, letting the threat of your permanent distance hang heavily in the air.
He knew exactly what you meant. This was dangerous territory—not just because of the raw feelings involved, but because he knew that if he kept treating you with that cold armor, he would permanently lose the one person he actually cared about.
He dragged a hand over his face and sat down on one of the patio chairs, his large frame looking suddenly heavy as he debated whether he should finally share the one thing he had been hiding from you for some time, terrified that you would reject him the second it left his mouth.
You moved a chair, pulling it up until you were sitting right in front of him, your knees almost brushing against his thick thighs.
"How do I even start?" he muttered, his rough fingers nervously rubbing his chin.
You shrugged softly, refusing to let him retreat into his shell again. "However you feel like it, Joel."
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You were used to Austin’s winter weather, but it was still hard for your body to adapt when you moved from the freezing cold of New York to the heavy warmth of your hometown.
Tommy had picked you up from the airport because your parents were still in the middle of renovating their house. The plan was for you to stay a few days at Tommy’s place until you could finally head over to your parents' to spend the rest of the holidays with them.
The moment Tommy saw you walking through the terminal, he held you tight, lifting you slightly and swaying you from side to side out of pure excitement.
"Missed you like crazy," he said, still wrapping you tightly in his arms.
"I can see that. You're squeezing the life out of me," you complained between laughs.
He laughed too and finally let you go, grabbing your heavy suitcases instead.
"Two bags?" he judged, lifting them up with a groan.
"What? I need my clothes, Tommy!"
"Such a city girl..." he sighed, rolling his eyes at you affectionately.
You smacked his bicep hard. "Shut up," you laughed, shoving him lightly.
The ride to his house was full of inside jokes and non-stop laughter, just like old times. You two ended up doing full car karaoke, blasting songs like "Everybody" by the Backstreet Boys and "Oops!... I Did It Again" by Britney Spears. Silence was never an option whenever the two of you got together.
When Tommy parked his car, he handed you his house keys so you could head inside while he grabbed your bags. You moved fast toward the front door, eager to get out of the warm air. You were still looking for the exact key on the ring when the door suddenly opened.
"I knew I heard you coming," Joel said, opening the door wide with a big, warm smile on his face.
"Joel!" you said, happily surprised. You instantly closed the space between you and threw your arms around him. "I didn’t know you were going to be here."
"Tommy needed me to fix his kitchen sink," he explained, hugging you back tightly.
"So he got his big brother to do his dirty work for him."
"Not for free, though. He's buying me some pizza for the trouble."
You reached up and gently caressed his cheek, your thumb brushing over his stubble, and he softly leaned into your touch, his smile turning fond.
"Tommy doesn’t deserve you," you smiled, looking up at him.
The moment you heard Tommy’s heavy footsteps approaching behind you, Joel stepped to the side for you to come in, breaking the quiet bubble. He moved back to the kitchen sink as he asked you how your flight back home had been and if you had anything interesting to share about your life in the big city.
"Joel got promoted," Tommy announced proudly while you were all eating pizza at the kitchen table.
"You did?!" you asked, turning your head quickly to look at Joel.
"It’s nothin’” he muttered, brushing it off with a humble smile.
"Don't play humble, man," Tommy said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "He is now the head boss of his entire team," Tommy added, looking over at you.
"That’s amazing! I'm so incredibly happy for you," you said genuinely, reaching out to rub Joel’s forearm. "Oh man, you deserve this more than anyone, Joel."
He didn't pull away; instead, his large palm moved to trap your hand in place, responding to your warm touch with a gentle squeeze.
"You're gonna make him blush," Tommy made fun, pointing a slice of pizza at his brother.
Joel just rolled his eyes at Tommy, but he didn't let go, keeping your hand resting comfortably on him.
"By the way... is Liam coming down for the holidays?" Tommy asked genuinely, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.
You instantly cleared your throat, gently but quickly moving your hand away from Joel's grip. "No. I didn’t invite him."
"Liam?" Joel asked, his voice dropping slightly, his eyes narrowing as he noticed your sudden distance.
"Her boyfriend," Tommy supplied.
"Not my boyfriend," you corrected him quickly, your eyes locking onto Joel's, desperate to clear the air. Joel lifted his eyebrows in silent curiosity. "Not my boyfriend," you repeated firmly. "He was just some dude I was seeing for a bit, but it turned out monogamy was completely one-sided with him. He was seeing other women too."
Joel nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "A suited asshole?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of disgust.
"Pretty much," you confirmed with a bitter sigh.
"An asshole, but with a Ferrari," Tommy laughed loudly, taking a bite of his pizza. "Whatever. You're way too much of a woman for him anyway. Just find yourself a rich man next time, one who can spoil us too." Tommy joked, completely unaware of how heavy his words hit the table.
"Right... a rich guy," Joel murmured. The warm spark in his eyes instantly died out. He looked away from you, staring down at his plate as he took a slow, silent sip of his beer.
You gave Joel a soft smile and kept eating even though for some reason you weren’t hungry anymore.
—
You had to leave at 10:00 PM for David’s pre-Christmas party. He had decided to throw it the second he found out you were coming back and staying at Tommy's. "We haven't been together in too long," he’d said, and of course, the whole group immediately agreed.
You put on a nice little black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, making you look like you were straight out of a magazine. Tommy looked you up and down the moment you met him in the living room.
"Girl, where are you going?" he teased, a grin spreading across his face.
"You don't like it?" You checked your outfit, smoothing down the fabric.
"I do, but... are you trying to get laid tonight?" he joked, nudging your shoulder.
"With who?" you joked back, rolling your eyes.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe someone is bringing someone you'll like."
You rolled your eyes again at the memory, but deep down, time had proved Tommy was right. It was supposed to be a small gathering with only the seven of you, but of course, everyone had brought their plus-ones, and a few other random friends had tagged along too.
You arrived with a bottle of wine in hand, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a glass for yourself. The house had this warm, yellow lighting you loved, especially for this type of festive occasion. The welcome back home was as warm as always, and you quickly fell into the comforting feeling that no time had passed at all.
A lot of alcohol and some gift exchanges made the evening even more entertaining. You casually sat down next to Joel on the couch when Kristin had the great idea to play a game of truth or dare, just like you used to do when you were younger.
Everyone eagerly agreed, and the game began.
Since it was her idea, Kristin was the one to start. She sat up straight and let the person to her left, Tommy, ask her the question. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," she said fast.
"Who is the hottest person in the group?" Tommy smirked.
"David," she answered without thinking twice.
"He is your stepbrother!" Tommy’s dramatic reaction made everyone burst out laughing.
"I didn’t say anything beyond the fact that he's hot!" she defended herself, laughing along.
"OMG, you are sick." Tommy moved fast, turning his attention to you, since you were sitting right next to Kristin. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare," you said, smiling boldly.
"I dare you to..." Tommy paused, tapping his chin with one finger as he thought it over. "...to down your glass in one go!"
"Gotcha," you said. You brought the glass to your lips and drank it fast, never one to be scared of a little alcohol.
"Oh, please, Tommy. What are you, fifteen?" Joel suddenly complained from next to you, his voice deep and laced with sudden irritation.
"It’s just your turn next!" Tommy said, laughing it off.
"No. I’m not playing. I need a break from you already," Joel muttered, standing up abruptly. He didn't look at you as he walked away, heading straight out to the porch to get some air.
Tommy just laughed at his brother's attitude, completely used to his serious demeanor. You kept playing for a few more rounds, but then you excused yourself to go to the kitchen and grab another glass of wine. On your way back, you glanced at the screen door and decided to join Joel outside on the porch to see how he was doing.
"Hey, stranger," you said to him as you stepped out into the cool night air.
He was leaning against the porch railing, quietly holding a beer. He was wearing a nice black button-up shirt and some dark blue jeans. Looking at your own clothes, you thought about how you two happened to be matching outfits tonight.
He looked you up and down thinking how beautiful you were tonight, his dark eyes lingering on your frame. "Hey," he smiled, his deep, Texan drawl warm as he met your eyes.
"Tired of Tommy already?" you teased him, stepping closer.
"Can you blame me, darlin'?"
"Never," you laughed. "But to be fair, we were all playing."
"I know," he breathed, taking a slow sip of his beer. "But he was bein' a freakin' teenager."
"Yeah, he was," you agreed. You took another step into his perimeter, your hand reaching out instinctively to touch the fabric of his chest. "New shirt?"
He nodded once, his eyes tracking your fingers against his chest. "Got it for tonight."
"Oh, really?" You smirked, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "Somethin' special happenin'?"
"You were comin' back." he says smirking.
Your heart skipped a beat. You looked down, smiling softly as you bit your lower lip. "I do that twice a year at least, Joel."
"And when are you stayin'?"
"You mean... for good?"
He nodded once, his gaze locking onto yours, dead serious now.
"Don't think I ever will," you admitted softly.
"What? You lookin' for your rich man out there in the city?" he teased, though his voice dropped a little too low.
"Not rich, but stable, you know?"
Joel's posture shifted, a heavy stiffness settling into his broad shoulders right after that confirmation. You didn’t catch his discomfort—it was way too subtle, and besides, why would you have noticed? Back then, he was just your best friend's older brother.
"What about you?" you asked, leaning your back against the railing next to him.
"I ain't lookin' for nothin'. Not my type of thing," he said, taking another slow gulp of his beer.
"So you plan to be alone forever?"
He looked out at the dark yard for a quiet second, his profile sharp against the porch light, before turning his eyes back to you. "Just waitin' for the right person."
You nodded, a soft smile on your face as you processed his words. "A romantic."
"I ain't romantic," he laughed softly, the low rumble of his voice vibrating in his chest. "No, no," he shook his head, looking away with a bashful smirk. "I'm just focused on work, you know?"
"I bet. You haven't changed that a bit," you smiled, remembering that forever-responsible version of Joel who always put his duties first.
"You judgin' me now?" he teased, his Texan drawl dripping with a playful warmth as he leaned slightly closer to you.
You shook your head, holding his gaze. "Never."
You wrapped your arm around his for balance as you took another sip of your wine. His heavy, warm body made your blood run faster through your veins. For a single moment, you felt like this was right—way too right, maybe.
"Oh," Joel muttered, shifting his weight as he remembered somethin'. "Did David show you his new office?"
"You fixed that up too?"
"Of course I did," he smirked, his Texan drawl thick. "But he actually paid."
"Finally someone pays you!" you laughed, your face lighting up.
Joel gently held your hand and dragged you away from the living room, heading down the hallway. No one paid any attention to the two of you; by that time, everyone else was already making out, dancing, or completely drunk.
The office was perfect, very David’s style. It was a modern yet elegant room, perfect for his economist brain to work long hours in. Joel showed you every little detail he had worked on, his eyes shining with pride as he made you smile.
He sat down on the large armchair, leaning back and enjoying the view of his craft. "I’m proud of this one," he murmured. You looked where his eyes were focusing.
"Of course you are. You did a truly great job, Joel."
He smiled up at you, a soft, genuine look. You walked closer toward him, looking down at his face. "Would you fix my house?"
"Only if it’s in Austin."
"Oh, come on. I’ll pay you whatever you want to do it in New York."
"I don’t like New York," he said flatly, his jaw tightening just a bit.
"What about me?" you teased, tilting your head.
"What about you?" he asked, his throat moving as he swallowed hard.
"You like me enough to go out there?"
He reached out and held your hand, his dark eyes locking onto yours, refusing to answer just yet.
"I don’t like New York," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, low and raspy.
You shifted your weight and sat right down on his left leg, your skirt riding up slightly. "You said that already."
Joel looked down at your legs and then tracked a slow path up your body, his breath catching in his throat. He honestly couldn’t believe how incredible you looked sitting right there on him, the proximity driving him insane. His large, rough hand moved up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb smoothing over your skin with a sudden, desperate tenderness. For a split second, time completely stopped, the noise of the party outside fading into nothing as he stared at you through those heavy, hooded eyes.
"I’ll pay for your craft," you whispered, your heart beating fast and heavy against your ribs.
"I don’t care about your money," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips.
You smiled softly and looked down to where your knee was rubbing against his thick thigh. "Playin' hard to get hired, Miller?"
"No," he whispered, his thumb tilting your face back up so you had to look at him through those heavy, hooded eyes. "Just stay in Austin. I’ll build your house myself."
"You won’t let me win this one, right?" you teased, looking down at him.
He shook his head, a small, stubborn smirk playing on his lips. "No way."
You stood up, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as you stepped back. "Then I think I’ll have to convince you."
"Convince me?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly, already missin' the warm weight of your body on his leg.
"Come with me to New York," you proposed, tilting your head.
"What? No," he said fast, his Texan drawl turnin' sharp and defensive.
"Lisa and Tommy have already been there, Joel."
"I know, but I just don’t like big cities. Ain't my scene," he muttered, crossin' his arms over his chest.
"Joel, you would love it. I promise."
"Doubt it, darlin'."
"Just for a weekend," you insisted softly, steppin' back into his space and lockin' your eyes with his. "Just one weekend."
Joel stared at you for a long, heavy second, lookin' at your face under the dim light of the office, completely defenseless against your softness.
"When?" he finally growled out, his voice thick and low.
You smiled, knowin' you had won. "Whenever you want."
RATING
Explicit (18+ only)
PAIRING
General Marcus Acacius x BIPOC OFC (‘Sita’)
FORMAT & SETTING
Historic Retelling & Gladiator II AU
WORD COUNT PER CHAPTER (7)
approx. 5k+
STATUS
Complete
SUMMARY
History, in its fickleness, may forget her name, but the truth endures: Sita, princess of the Kushans—cast aside by her kin, traded in dowries—seized a bargain of her own. She knew power need not only rise from the sword, but from the marriage bed, from a whisper at a ruler’s ear, from the silence that follows a kiss.
In Rome, she was bound—to a foreign man, the enemy, Marcus Acacius, a decorated general, a conqueror, and yet a weapon she resolved to wield. What began as a treaty unfurled into a perilous game of loyalty and betrayal, of conspiracy and desire. Sita’s fate was tested... would she remain Acacius’ consort—lashed, overshadowed—or would she rise as Rome’s queen?
CHAPTER INDEX
WE MEASURE IN “SHADRIPU” (षड्-रिपु)
⁂ Sanskrit, meaning “six enemies” of the soul.
LOBHA — greed — prologue
MADHA — arrogance
MOHA — attachment
KĀMA — lust
MĀTSARYA — jealousy
KRODHA — rage
MOKSHA — peace — epilogue
VOCABULARY (subject to addition as the story progresses; translations of the Hindi language dialogue will be indicated beside every line.)
Rani -> queen (honorific)
Rajkumari -> princess (honorific)
Devi -> lady (honorific)
Pitaji -> father (honorific)
Bhai / Bhaiya-> brother
Beti / Beta -> dear daughter / dear son
murti -> idol of a deity
Navratri -> nine nights, a festival that symbolises the victory of good over evil.
diya -> oil lamp
mandir -> temple
agni -> fire
puja -> daily worship, prayers
Saptapadi -> seven steps made by bride and groom to bind them for seven lives
tilak / sindhoor -> a mark on the forehead made with vermilion to signify marriage.
MY INSPO PLAYLIST
TAGS
SITA is pronounced SEE-THA, written as a historic retelling, I turn into a wannabe Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Hinduism, Indian culture and traditions, Roman culture and traditions, enemies-to-lovers, outsider queen manipulating court politics, palace intrigue, power-hungry OC, I-will-burn-the-world-to-keep-you-trope, arranged political marriage, slow trust, complicated loyalty.
CONTENT WARNINGS
polyamory, eventual royal gilded smut wohoooo (p in v, oral - female and male receiving), humiliation, misogyny, rape, miscarriage, sexism, oppression, gossip.
TAGLIST (to the few interested sweethearts) 🫶
{ @woodxtock -> my whole entire life, @oolongreads -> my number one, @ultra-nina-bella , @ovaryacted , @puduvallee , @tezooks , @finco99 , @whenillflourish }
Summary: The one with you and Harry having your first date.
w.c: 5,4 k
warnings: age gap (harry is 45 and reader is in her early 30s) poorly written smut and fluff (yes, no angst for one chapter)
A/N: Ignore the chapter i posted yesterday because i din't put the whole chapter on here 😭 that didn't happen. It's finally here. I'm sorry for taking so long to post this. I'm not gonna write anything else besides this until i finish this as said in a recent post you can find here, and perhaps I get my creativity back, but we still have more of these two. I hope you enjoy this fluffy chapter because the next one brings the angst back. Take care and i'm sending you kisses.
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK
dividers by @/strangergraphics
Harry woke first this morning. Sunlight filled the room with its radiant golden light, cutting through the traces left behind by last night’s storm. He looked over at you. Your face was peaceful in the early light of day, finally free from the tension the rain had brought to you. For the first time in days, the heavy weight on his shoulder was gone.
The light warmed up his skin, and the distant crash of waves filled the silence from the first hours in the early morning. A smile broke across his face as he looked beside him; there you were, curled up against his chest, one arm tucked beneath your cheek, your morning hair messy over the pillow. He felt a sudden, achy affection in his chest, a quiet certainty that he would remember this exact picture for the rest of his days. He just wanted to stay still so he wouldn’t ruin the moment.
He got the feeling his wounds were healing, and an overwhelming sensation took over because now he thought he would never want anybody else but you.
Harry moved his eyes past you, leaving out a soft laugh at the sight of Coco sprawled flat on his back, taking up a ridiculous amount of space for such a tiny dog. Still smiling, Harry reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. But the instant his lips touched your skin, the warmth radiating there shot a spike of anxiety through his body, instantly ruining the moment. His brows furrowed. You weren’t burning up, but you were warm. Frowning, he pulled back and pressed his palm on your forehead, trying to check the temperature.
You made a sleepy sound, tucking yourself closer to him.
Harry smiled. “Baby…”
He got nothing but silence in return, so he began rubbing circles on your back. “Come on, wake up.”
Another murmur escaped your lips, but you only moved closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Harry chuckled and kissed your temple. “Gorgeous…”
Again, nothing but silence.
With a frown of protest, you wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling his down before he could move away.
“Shhh…” you murmured; your voice thick with sleep. “Don’t.”
Harry laughed. “I’m trying to wake you up.”
“No,” you shook your head, tightening your embrace around his neck. “You’re talking too much.”
His smile widened. “I’m worried about you.”
You sighed without opening your eyes. “So, worry later.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think that’s how worrying works.”
“Mmmm…” You nuzzled closer until your forehead rested beneath his chin. “Five more minutes.”
He looked down at you with amusement and tenderness, a soft laugh vibrating against your ear.
“You have no idea how cute you are.”
A tiny smile tugged at your lips. “I know.”
“Oh, so you know.”
“Mhmm.” You yawned. “And I like my pillow.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
You nodded lazily on his chest. “This warm one.”
His heart melted. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your hair. “You know,” he whispered, “I’m beginning to think you’re only using me because I’m comfortable for your sleep.”
You finally cracked one eye open, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “Maybe.”
“Coco, did you hear that?” Harry gasped.
The puppy lifted one ear and decided the conversation wasn’t important enough, so he went right back to sleep.
Harry looked back down, meeting your eyes as your smile widened. Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his cheek. “Good morning.”
He leaned into your touch for a brief second, but the reminder of the heat made him pull back a bit. He brushed his thumb over your forehead again. “You feel a little warm.”
You frowned sleepily. “Do I?”
“A little.” He nodded, no erasing the smile from his face.
You hummed, completely unconcerned.
Harry, however, wasn’t letting go. “I think breakfast in bed might be today’s plan.”
You groaned into his chest. “I have to work.”
“Take the day off.”
“I have responsibilities.”
“Yes, but if you go, you’re only going to get sicker,” he said. He kept stroking your hair, his fingers slipping among the soft strands while you stayed tucked against him.
Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. There was no need to, not when the silence felt this comfortable. Harry looked down at you again, noticing your eyelids were still heavy.
His thumb brushed over your temple. “Are you hungry?”
You hummed quietly. “Maybe.”
Harry teased, “Maybe?”
“I’m still deciding,” you murmured. “It depends on what you have to offer.”
He chuckled, leaning down slightly. “Well, I can help you decide. What are you craving?”
It was such an ordinary question, but it carried the quiet weight of the secret language two lovers learned to speak before falling. It caught you completely off guard because you had never had this before. This man had stumbled into your life and turned everything bright, completely driving away the cold gloom of your bluest days. And now, here he was, kissing your temple in the morning and asking you what you wanted for breakfast.
You searched his face for a moment.
Harry notices the way your expression softened. “What?”
You shook your head faintly. “Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow, his fingers tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. “What would you like?”
You pretended to think very seriously. “Hmmm…”
Harry waited patiently. “Pancakes?”
You looked guilty. “Asking me like that makes me think you’re expecting me to say no. I don’t even know how stocked your kitchen is.”
Harry smiled, playfully. “I’ll make pancakes.”
“Can you even make pancakes?” you asked, skeptical of his cooking abilities.
“Cooking happens to be one of my talents, gorgeous,” he replied, flashing a smile that felt as bright as the sun.
You laughed quietly. Harry felt a sudden, sharp tug in his chest at the sound. “There she is.”
You groaned. “You really need a new line.”
“It keeps working.” Harry smiled to himself, brushing his knuckles lightly across your cheek. “But first…I want you to stay right here.”
“I’m not five.”
“I know.”
“But you keep talking to me like I am.”
“I’m talking to you like someone who spent hours wandering around in the rain yesterday and is a bit sick now.”
You opened your mouth to protest.
“Don’t.” Harry interrupted, pointing a warning finger at you.
“I wasn’t going to argue.” You said, faking innocence.
He laughed, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
As Harry carefully slipped out the bed, you reached for his hand before he could get too far. He stopped, looking back at you.
Your fingers curled gently around his. “Thank you.”
He looked at you as if the answer were completely obvious. “As long as you’ll let me,” he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently. “I don’t think I’ll get tired of it.”
Then, with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, he disappeared toward the kitchen. He left you wrapped in the warm sheets beside a sleepy Coco, feeling cared for in a way you never were.
The days passed with agonizing speed. The kind that makes you homesick for a moment ever when you’re still living it, watching it slip through your fingers like sand. You didn’t want it to end. These days were happy; they gave your life meaning again, turning everything, you had experienced into memories that would echo in your mind for years.
Ever since Harry knocked on your door that night, your world had shifted. It was as if your life had been painted over in shades of crimson and gold, like a beach sunset you couldn’t quire define but desperately wanted to look at every single evening. It became something you looked forward to, something so stable and present it was easy to take for granted.
For years your life had been a comfortable, predictable routine under a dull, gray sky. You woke you, worked and went to bed that the fierce, fiery love people wrote about in books was just a myth. Something you would never be able to touch. But this new warmth wrapping around you had become the very reality of your routine, starting every time you looked into the kitchen and found Harry making coffee and quiet.
Your ordinary quiet life flooded with colors, each shifting into your routine.
They were in the pigments of afternoons spent walking along the shore, with Coco sprinting ahead to chase the seagulls. They were the shades of those evenings when the café closed and Harry was already waiting outside, leaning against the wooden railing with his hands in his pockets, his face lighting up the second you stepped through the door.
You were falling.
The was the exact moment you realized it. For the first time in your life, the sky was bleeding into shades of rose and gold, but this time, the brightness didn’t hurt. You were standing right in the middle of your ordinary life, breathless, watching a new world bloom around you.
All because of him.
Because of Harry.
Yes, you were completely falling.
Some days he worked from your house, his laptop balance on the dining table while he kept himself busy with conference calls filling his days. Other days, he abandoned his job because you convinced him the sunset was too beautiful to miss.
He would complain at first, but seeing you smile was enough for him to follow you anyway.
Anywhere.
Always.
As long as you allowed him.
You had found out Harry loved to sing under his breath whenever he cooked and that he had started to love stealing bites from your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, shrugging shamelessly every time you shot him a look.
“It tastes better from yours.”
Everything he was, and everything he had done ever since he came to this place, had blended seamlessly into your own.
A few days later, as you walked towards Harry’s house, your phone suddenly rang with a notification.
Harry:
Don’t come for Coco. I’ll bring him to you.
Your eyebrows furrowed. You knew you didn’t have to worry about Coco if he was with him because at this point, they had become thick as thieves.
You:
Is he behaving?
Harry:
What do you mean?He is the best boy ever.
You:
????I have a suspicion this is actually Coco typing.
Harry:
Oh, shut up.
You:
Dog.
Harry:
Go home.
You stepped inside your house as you kept the smile on your face. You walked towards the kitchen, leaving a bouquet of flowers you had bought from the sweet florist selling on your way home and place them on the counter. You were hungry, so you went to the fridge studying at the food inside as if you could develop a new recipe by taking a look of them. You were about to prepare a sandwich with a knock on your door stopped your actions. Followed by your phone ringing.
You frowned, looking at the door as you ran to grab your phone from the table.
“I’m coming!” you shouted, grabbing your phone and pressing it against your ear.
“Just open the door already,” harry spoke through the phone, by the tone you could picture the smile on his face.
At the other side of the door, there was Harry standing there, and in fact wearing that deadly smile on his face.
You unlocked the door and swung it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, and your smile froze in pure shock. Harry looked breathtaking, gorgeous, and effortlessly pulling off a classic black suit and tie matching his own. But that wasn’t all; he was also holding Coco. Your small dog looked like a gentleman in a tiny matching tie of his own.
Harry looked down at Coco, then back up at you with a smirk. “Can I take you on a date now? We both dressed up just for you.”
You let out a gasp, hands flying to your mouth.
“What’s all of this?” You asked, your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.
“I’ve been thinking about the perfect moment to ask you out,” he began, smiling timidly at you. “But then, I realized any moment would be perfect as long as you would be there.”
You beamed at his words; your eyes wrinkled. Harry smiled back with the same intensity. You felt your eyes watering as they drifted to Coco in his arms, wagging his tail at you from his position.
You stepped forward, cradling his face in your hands. “Oh my God, my baby.” You exclaimed.
“How did you do this, Harry?”
“Well…he likes me, what can I say?” she laughed, meeting your gaze when you lifted your gaze.
“So?” he wondered, “Would you go out with me?
You straighten up, not breaking your contact with Coco, but looking at Harry deep in the eyes.
“I’ll wait for you at my boring house with a surprise for you and Coco,” he added.
“Right now?” you asked.
“Right now.” He smiled, looking up and down your body, at your white sneakers and the long denim dress you wore. “You can absolutely keep this dress; you look beautiful.”
“No,” you said, smiling at him, “I want to change into a nice dress for you.” You lifted your hand to grab his free one, squeezing it.
“And just so you know, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You confessed, pulling your hand away.
A wide smile broke across his face. “I’ll wait for you, then, darling.”
The moment you stepped through his front door, Harry turned around; the words he wanted to say died on his lips. He eyed you up and down; his gaze burned you. For a fleeting moment, he was left speechless. His lips parted in shock as he couldn’t fully process how stunning you looked. A smile broke across his face, as a faint flush crept up his neck, reaching his cheeks.
He stepped closer; his hand reached for you to rest it on your waist, his thumb swept over your skin above the dress.
“Wow,” he breathed out, his raspy tone sending a shiver down your spine. “You look wonderful.”
“It’s just an old dress,” you teased, looking away from his burning gaze.
“Well, you look breathtaking,” he reassured, a wide smile adorning his face.
Your eyes moved past his figure as he stepped behind away to led you up to the terrace, your breath caught in your throat. He had built a scene straight out of a dream. A dozen of candles flickered along, casting a romantic setting as the light casted on the glass. A few delicate fairy lights hung overhead like stars casting glimmer over the space.
Coco also trotted ahead of you, his tiny bow perfectly in place, while Harry stepped up right behind you, his hands rested on your waist as he leaned down.
“Do you like it?” he whispered in your ear. “I want tonight to be magical for you.”
His breath fanning over the skin of your neck caught your breath. “When…when did you make all of this?” you asked, clearly speechless.
Harry let out a soft chuckle; the sound vibrated on your back as he tightened his hold on your waist. He leaned his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the sky next to you.
“I had a bit of help, I have to admit,” he smiled, his voice warm. “I’ve been planning this since yesterday, and I begged Sophie to help me to set up the fairy lights and candles before you arrived.”
You turned around in his embrace, resting your hands against his chest as you looked up into his brown eyes. “You did all this just for our first date?”
“Just a first date?” He mocked, offended. “You’re not just any first date,” Harry murmured, his expression softened. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You deserve this and more. Tonight is just for us.”
He led you to the middle as soft music played in the background, filling the space that just the waves used to claim. He held out his hand with a smile. You took it without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to his chest as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You swayed together, a slow rhythm beneath the fairy lights. You shifted closer, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“You are a really good dancer,” you teased, looking up at him.
“I have my moments. I want to impress you.” He said, “I’m holding you.”
Instead of words, you just beamed at him as the song died in the background.
Harry led you to the comfortable cushioned area he had built over a blanket on the ground. You sat down close together. You leaned back, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked up at sky. Away from the bright glow of the fairy lights, the stars above shone with intensity. Harry’s fingers intertwined with yours, as his thumb traced his path on the back of your hand.
“I love sitting outside and seeing the stars every night,” you said, lifting the piece of sushi to your lips. “It brings me peace.”
“I believe you,” Harry said, pouring the wine into both of your glasses, “Now you have my company for it.”
You smiled. A quiet wave of happiness washed over you, knowing his words were entirely true and that his presence had truly become part of your daily life.
Harry smiled back at you. He already knew that kind of smile on your face. He was familiar with every single curve in your lips and the thousand words they could speak just by the shape of them. He brought the glass of wine and took a small sip, letting the warmth of it settle in the back of his throat.
“It’s good.”
“It is,” you replied, meeting his gaze from the narrow gap between both of you.
Harry’s eyes dipped down, noticing how your lips glistened from the wine. They looked completely inviting. You tried desperately to focus on the stars above you, praying in silence that he would do the same. You let out a light sigh of relief when Harry looked away from your lips.
But suddenly, you felt his fingertips on your chin, tilting your head up. You yielded when your lips met. Harry kept his hand cupping your face, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed your bottom lip, making you feel you were drowning.
Harry slid one of his hands down your back, pulling you close. Shivers ran down your spine as it arched, chasing the spark of fire Harry had ignited with his touch.
Your bodies blurred into each other, burning just one flame.
Harry caught your bottom lip, feeling the kiss with an agonizing need. You gasped, parting your lips, letting him slide his tongue past your teeth and having the first real taste of you.
You leaned forward, completely out of focus, and melted into all the sensations, sparking with his tongue intertwined with yours and his hands travelling up and down your body, making you crave the friction your body ached to reach. He tasted like the glass of wine you both had shared.
The innocent nature of the kiss grew heated. His hand slid up, interlocking his fingers through the strands of your hair to gently pull your head back.
“You’re a dream,” he whispered, his lips stained by the burgundy from the mix of the wine and kiss.
Your face flushed. Your blood rushed into your cheeks as you felt a sudden, intense heat radiating through every inch of your body.
You leaned forward, capturing his lips in yours once again. You didn’t know if it was because of the wine, but you had become addicted to the taste in them and how they felt over yours. You interlocked your fingers between the curls on his hair, gently pulling him to you until you melted into him.
Harry’s mouth felt warm on yours, as his fingertips sent sparks down your spine all over again as matches striking to light a fire. His lips left a path of heated kisses on your skin down the crook of your neck.
His gaze lifted to take a look at your face, and you tried to move. You pressed your hands against his chest to push him away.
“Harry,” you whimpered, completely breathless.
“Don’t talk now,” he replied, voice vibrating against the skin of your collarbone where his lips pressed down.
A part of you craved him so much it physically hurt. Whatever the spark between both of you was called, you knew you were breaking the rules of it. You shut your eyes, pressing your forehead on the fabric of his white shirt, now stained by the burgundy of your own lips.
The fire burst, and you were willing to get burned.
Harry pulled you closer, his mouth captured your lips in a breathless kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the rest of the world faded away. There was no hesitation left in him now.
Then, a wet nose nudged your elbow. Coco had wandered over from his rug, licking your bare arm and ruining the moment. A breathless laugh escaped your lips, breaking the tension.
“No,” Harry complained against your skin, refusing to let go. He looked down at the dog with a playful scowl. “No, tonight, buddy. She’s mine.”
Those words left you speechless, your heart clenched in your chest.
Harry pulled away, looking at you with lustful eyes you had never seen before. He slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip, biting it gently as he took in the sight of your flushed skin. Standing up without breaking eye contact, he reached down and offered you his hand. You took it without hesitation.
As Harry led you towards his room, the frantic beating of his heart perfectly matched your own.
Harry stopped just before crossing the door of his room. The moonlight mixed with the dim light from the living room made his eyes catch yours with intensity. He held your hands, but he noticed the tremble in your fingers. He tilted his head, searching your eyes.
“Harry…” you whispered, your voice wavering. “Wait. It’s…it’s been a really long time since I’ve been with anyone like this.”
For a moment you feared you might see disappointment in his expression, but Harry’s gaze only softened. He took a step closer, closing the distance until you could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice raspy.
Instead of using words, he let his fingers talk, sliding his hands up from your fingers to your shoulders, gently brushing a strand of hair out of the way. He leaned down and pressed his lips on the curve of your neck. The kiss was slow, firm, and filled with an adoration that took your nerves away. Feeling you relax against him, he trailed a line of soft kisses up your jawline until his lips reached and brushed your ear.
“There’s no rush,” he whispered on your skin; his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “It’s you and me. We’ll go exactly at your pace.”
Those words made every bit of hesitation vanish, replaced by the safety of his hands caressing your skin.
With delicacy, Harry slid the fabric of your dress down your back until it pooled around your feet. As you stood bare before him, his gaze darkened with intense appreciation. He took your hand, pressing your palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart.
“This is what you do to me,” he whispered.
His hands began to travel along your skin, his fingertips tracing every curve of your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, trailed his lips down your cheek, and finally found your mouth once more. The kiss was incredibly soft, so tender that a quiet moan escaped your lips.
Goosebumps rippled across your skin. You felt so drunk on his love that dying in his arms felt like a beautiful fate you could meet, if only he would hold you forever. Time slowed as his hand slid up your stomach. When his fingers brushed your breast, you gasped at the sensation.
He held your hand, his fingers laced through yours as he led you to his bed. The urgency of the kiss grew more desperate as it turned into soft moans escaping your lips. As the back of your knees touched the edge of the mattress, you sat on it. Harry looked at you with an intensity in his eyes you had never seen in there before. Your breath caught in the middle of your throat, his hands moving to cradle your neck with his fingertips.
As your eyes met, the lust consuming you both grew. He looked at you with those longing eyes of a man craving to taste an unusual flavor for the first time. When you held his gaze all the hesitation upon his shoulders lifted because he knew you would stay here with him. He claimed your lips once again; his touch suffocated you as you gasped for air at all the sensations tickling in your skin as his kisses travelled down your neck, sending a rush of adrenaline within you.
In a swift, yet gentle movement, he parted your legs, hovering over you. A low moan escaped your lips, pulling Harry closer, and he sank all his weight on you. He let out a low growl, pinning your wrists above your head as he began to move against you in a slow rhythm that set your skin on fire.
You arched your back in desperation for more friction, so your fingers found their way to his shirt, unbuttoning it with faster movements, refusing to break the kiss. You were desperate to feel his skin against yours; your hand reached for his belt, your finger worked on unbuttoning his pants as his lips seemed hungrier on you. Harry caught his breath as he felt your hand over his cock.
He opened his eyes to look down at you with surprise and absolute devotion in there; his chest rose.
“God,” he whispered, his voice completely raspy as your fingers stroked his cock up and down.
He buried his face back into your neck with desperation. Your breath hitched, and your moans grew heavier as his lips and tongue trailed down your chest, sending a jolt of electricity to your core.
“Oh god, Harry,” you whimpered, arching your back against him, consumed by the sensation.
He pressed more kisses down between your breasts, his mouth lowered with a torturous trail of kisses until it reached your stomach. You let out a soft gasp as his hands gripped your hips to hold you in place. He kept pressing kisses on your skin, his warm breath on your lower stomach, but your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away.
“Harry, wait. I don’t…I—”
“You don’t want me to taste you?” he asked softly, pausing his actions.”
“I…I just want to feel you inside me tonight,” you confessed, your voice trembled.
You feared you had ruined the moment, but Harry jus nodded, planting a last kiss on your stomach to relax you before sliding back up you body, claiming your lips again. He didn’t make you wait any longer, his eyes locked onto yours. Holding your hips, Harry positioned himself and pushed forward, filling you in slowly. You let out a gasp as your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” he breathed against your lips, his pace still slow but setting the room on fire.
You opened your eyes, meeting his intense darkened gaze as he started to move, sending waves of intense pleasure straight to your core.
Arching your back, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts. You felt desperate to feel all of him in you. Every touch of his fingers on your skin awakened sensations you had long forgotten, setting your entire world on fire.
His ragged moans filled in your ear. “That’s it, baby…you feel so good.”
Harry fastened his thrusts with heavenly deep thrusts. A broken gasp left your lips at the sensation. He pinned your hands up your head, intertwining his fingers with yours. He didn’t let you to rush him anymore. He wanted to give you all of him.
Your body trembled under his weight as the pace fastened and the room filled with moans and sweet.
“Harry, please…don’t stop,” you begged, your eyes blurred as you tried to look up at him as your hips chased the friction.
“I’m not,” he whimpered against your lips as he continued rocking his hips against yours, matching the rhythm with the friction that made you lose your mind.
“Harry, please,” you cried out, your fingers dug on his shoulders as the pleasure coiled down in your stomach.
“Do you want to come baby?” he broke down in a low raspy voice.
He fastened his movement, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you to positioned himself against you as he started to slam into you. You clung to him, fingernails digging into the muscle of his back. All the pleasure coiling together inside you turned into a rush of heat.
Your breath came in ragged breaths as the only sensation left was the friction of his skin against yours.
“Harry, I’m gonna—" you choked out, your vision blurred.
“With me,” he replied, his voice seemed strained.
And with a last deep push against you, a loud, breathless cry left your lips. Your muscles tightened around his cock as he buried himself inside you, letting out a groan against your neck.
There was nothing left but the sound of your ragged breaths filling the room and mixing with the smell of sweet and sloppy sex. Harry collapsed softly on your body, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, still trembling from the aftermath. He stayed buried inside you, letting his cock fill you up with his warmth.
After a few minutes of no speaking, he rolled onto his side, pulling you along with him, so you rested your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist. The skin of his chest was still hot and slick with the sweat from before, but the desperate hunger from before had vanished and turned into vulnerability. He buried his face in your disheveled hair, inhaling your scent and pressing a lingering kiss on your head.
“I—”
“I—”
You both let out a small chuckle, the fear melting.
“You go first,” he said, smiling.
“No, you.”
“Okay,” he accepted. “I…I think I’m falling in love with you in the most stupid way,” he confessed, pressing more kisses to the top of your head.
You froze for a second; your heart skipped a short beat at the confession. Those same tainted words in the back of your mind suddenly turned out into the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.
Your throat tightened. You shifted in his arms, turning your head to meet those brown eyes you had gotten so used to looking into.
A shy smile broke across your lips.
“I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you in that same stupid way.”
A smile broke on Harry’s face. His entire body relaxed under your gaze, and all the doubts melted away because he was meeting the sincerest eyes he had ever had the chance to know. He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck, as if he finally had the world in his arms.
“Please, never break my heart,” he begged, “I don’t want to live a life without you in mine.”
You planted a kiss on his chest, closing your eyes at his words. “I would never do that.” You promised.
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⟢ Summary: You share your thoughts on a painting to a stranger at an art gallery in Paris, unaware it was his.
Tags/warnings: none. meet-cute. fluff. maybe second-hand embarrassment. I don't know painting terms. no y/n. not beta-ed.
a/n: I'm done with assignments, but I'm still high from caffeine and I can't sleep so here goes nothing. Sorry if this is bad hehe, it's unplanned, and I wrote this within three hours. might delete once I wake up sober tomorrow. meanwhile, enjoy!!♡ update: didn't expect some of you to actually like this. Thank you sm! I guess it's staying then :>
You didn't even see him approaching at first, but his voice was the first part of him your senses registered. That gentle, and soothing voice.
"You've been staring at this one for quite a while."
Your head slowly turned to find a man in full white. The sleeves of a cashmere sweater with black stripes hung intentionally over his broad shoulders. It took you a second to realise he was talking to you.
Your eyes did a quick once over from his head to toe. Each part of him—his curls, mustache, plain white t-shirt that exposes his toned arms, white trousers, and black oxford—screamed perfection. A thought flashed through your mind,
He could replace the painting you were staring at, and you wouldn't complain.
"Mademoiselle?" His little head tilt and soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. He is not French. You knew that much, now.
"Sorry. You were saying?"
A tiny smile tugged at his lips and you were forced to witness those perfectly sculpted dips of his dimples and the creases around his eyes appear on his angelic face—all the while acting like he's not the most beautiful piece of art you had seen all day.
"This particular painting seems to have caught your eye. May I know what's in that beautiful mind of yours?" He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
"Well," You turned to look back at the painting. You had no idea who this stranger was, but he seemed just as passionate as you about art, so you decided to let him into your thoughts.
You talked, and talked, and you noticed the way he looked intently at you the whole time. It felt unnerving at first; until you understood that he was genuinely interested in what you were saying. That's when all hell broke loose, and you let your mouth run free.
"—though, I do think that it's a strange choice of colour."
You catch the raise of his eyebrows at your last statement, and for a second, you thought you had personally offended him.
"You think so?" He queried.
You stilled, mentally kicking yourself for talking too much. The expression on your face, however, wrote out your thoughts; and it brought a small chuckle out of the stranger.
"Don't worry. You can say it." He leaned closer, breath faintly brushing over your ear. "It'll be our little secret."
Heat crept up your cheeks and you timidly nodded. At the same time, a whiff of his cologne painted your sense of smell.
Gosh, he smells so good.
"I just think that.. a contrasting colour would do even better. Makes the little details pop." You said. "But I'm not a professional painter, so what do I know—"
"You're not wrong." He quickly said. You looked at him in surprise; but from the look of his face, you could tell that he was being genuine.
He smiled at you before looking at the painting again. "It would look nice with a contrasting colour." You took in the way his eyes roam over the delicate art. "but if I were to make a guess, I think the artist might have wanted to highlight the subject alone—hence the blend of complimenting colours and abstract details."
"Don't you think so?" He turned to you again, eyes twinkling with excitement. You had never seen someone get so excited over a painting in an art gallery. It usually ranges between taking mandatory pictures to show off that one had seen a piece of classics, and sketching a painting they admire.
"Sure." You nodded. For some strange reason, you didn't want your conversation with this stranger to end.
He straightened up and reached down the pocket of his pristine white trousers. It still amazed you that he hadn't gotten a fleck of stain on it.
"Hey. If you're free tomorrow, maybe you can come to his reception." He handed you a piece of rectangular card with an identical painting adorning the background.
"I got an extra. You'll get to meet him in person. Maybe then you can talk to him about your suggestion." He winked.
You hesitantly accepted the ticket, thanking him.
"Unfortunately, I have to go now. Lovely meeting you." He extended his hand and you took it with a smile.
"Likewise." You said as you shook his hand. "What's your name?"
"Reed Richards; but call me Reed." He said with a little polite bow. "Hope to see you again, mademoiselle."
You watched him leave, unaware of the huge smile carved on your face and the intense pounding of your heart. But as you looked down at the ticket in your hand, your smile gradually faded.
Meet the Artist
REED RICHARDS
Oh.
So his voice wasn't the first part of him that you knew. You glanced at the painting hung against the plain white wall.
It was his mind.
Thank you for reading!! Hope this made your day/night :) reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I would love to know your thoughts <3
taglist: @shadowqueen2024 @harriedandharassed (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)
this is such a sweet story. I could totally feel the sweetness that comes with reed and how he explores his own creativity. Such a nice reading i just had on here 🩷
Summary: Your husband is unfaithful, and your contractor is hot.
Pairing: Contractor!Joel Miller x Married!Reader
Warnings: Porn with some Plot?, piv, cunnilingus, fingering, massage, Joel works for reader, adultery, but reader's husband cheated first so it doesn't count and i stand by that, divorce, Joel has a big dick, Tommy Miller, shitty marriage
WC: 8.2k
A/N: This really got away from me im so sorry. but low key lmk if i should make a part 2. Love to hear your thoughts :)
You didn’t set out to hire a contractor with the sole purpose of cheating on your husband. It just happened.
In all fairness, he cheated first. Consistently and repeatedly. His ongoing affairs are the reason you’ve found yourself in this situation in the first place.
In truth, it started long before his infidelity had. You knew marrying him was a mistake the moment he showed just how little he cared for you and your needs, miniscule as they may be, in your opinion.
You married Jeremy straight out of college, which was your first miscalculation. Guys your age never quite met your standards of what a healthy and loving relationship should be. But you married him anyway because you thought it’s what you had to do.
His job in finance allowed you to buy the house of your dreams, though it definitely needed some work. He promised you – insisted – that he could take care of the repairs himself despite having the financial means to hire someone else to do it and zero experience doing any sort of manual labor. Your career was just as lucrative as his, so between the two of you, there was no reason you couldn’t afford to hire someone to do the job. You lost track of the amount of times you’d fought him on the topic.
Just hire someone! No, I can do it myself! When? I’ll start soon, I swear!
He never started soon. And now, it’s been five years
The home itself was perfect – full of mid-century modern charm, large, bright windows, sleek, low-pitched roof, open floor plan. You loved it. You did not love the orange shag carpet or the lime green cabinets in the kitchen, nor were you a fan of the square teal tiling covering every inch of both bathrooms. But those problems could be easily resolved.
Your husband, cheating, vile, misogynistic scumbag that he is, was considerably less simple to deal with.
When you discovered his habitual adultery, you were surprised to feel nothing but anger. Not hurt. Not betrayal. Just pure, unbridled anger. You hadn’t been happy in years, and quite frankly, you weren’t sure you ever were.
It sparked a thirst for retaliation in you that couldn’t be quenched without taking full and total control of your life again.
First on your to-do list was filing for a divorce. You had all the proof you needed to back up your claims of his infidelity – texts, phone calls, receipts for motels – Jeremy was not smart, nor was he careful, which made the task incredibly simple. Seeing as he fucked anything with a pulse, you had plenty of evidence to go on. Your lawyer was astonished, either at his stupidity or the sheer amount of women Jeremy has been caught with, you weren’t sure.
Next, you gathered the funds you needed in order to complete the renovation to your home, and luckily, you’d been saving for that specific task. You wanted him to be dumbstruck when he saw the final product, and then you would hand him the divorce papers and tell him to get the hell out.
Finally, you had to hire the right contractors to get the job done. This proved to be your most ardent task yet.
It took you weeks to find a suitable contractor to take on your project. You vetted and price checked and examined their work with a scrutiny that would impress even the most seasoned detectives. You took recommendations, avoided certain ones entirely, and finally landed on Miller & Miller Construction.
Their website had no flair. No pizazz. No gimmicks. It was plain, clean, and it showcased their work in stunning clarity. You were impressed. The custom cabinetry was just what you’d been looking for, the craftsmanship simple, but precise. Their eye for design, their workmanship, everything spoke to you. You set up a consultation and met with them as soon as you could.
Joel and Tommy were two completely opposing entities that you weren’t quite sure how to read. Tommy did most of the talking, his smile easy and bright, immediately likable, while Joel sat quietly, eyes trained on you, not exactly frowning, but there was no smile to be had on his face either. You liked them, despite how quiet the elder Miller was, grizzled hair, trimmed scruff on his jaw and chin, mustache flecked with grey.
Something about him made you squirm.
You could tell immediately how their dynamic worked. Tommy was the salesman, the entrepreneur, the frontman. And Joel was the brawn, the craftsman – it showed in the rough edges of his features, his hands, his discerning eyes. Though, you’re sure they both put in their fair share of hard labor.
Tommy had a tablet in front of him, typing out the details of your project. Joel paced the kitchen, measuring, examining, testing. You watched him, admiring the slope of his broad shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw, the faint hints of grey in his beard, rippling muscles hidden under a flannel and a t-shirt.
You blinked out of your haze when Tommy spoke.
“Full-scale kitchen remodel. Custom cabinetry. Updated appliances. Marble counters – that won’t be cheap,” Tommy muttered, but you waved your hand.
“It’s covered. I’ve been saving for years.”
His grin flashed, warm and friendly, “Don’t worry, we won’t drain it all.” He types something else out, muttering, “Hardwood floors, new trim, drywalling, tiling..” he trailed off, listing out everything the two of you had discussed for the entirety of the house. When he was done, he looked across at you with a smile, “I’ll get you an estimate in about a week or so.”
You almost bounced in your seat, giddy with the prospect of your home finally coming to life. You were so ecstatic you almost forgot about the wreckage of your marriage.
“We’ll have our design team set up a consultation, pick materials, colors and such, and then we can get you a fixed timeline. Do you have any questions for us?”
Your eyes darted between him and his stoic older brother before shaking your head, “No, thank you so much.”
In all of your searches and meetings with various contractors in the area, it was the first time you felt seen. They didn’t ask if you needed your husband’s approval. They didn’t ask if he wanted input in the project. Didn’t even ask if you had a husband. But it was clear in your surroundings – the framed picture of you two on your wedding day situated right behind you on the china cabinet, the men’s tennis shoes discarded by the door, the ugly recliner just visible in the living room. Your wedding ring.
Your meeting with their design team went even better – though team was a bit of an overstatement. A woman your age, friendly, bright, excited to help you design your kitchen. Her name was Winona, and she was bubbly without being obnoxious, smart without being a knowitall. And best of all, she took your design ideas and turned them into something spectacular. You loved her.
Jeremy was on a business trip, probably fucking anything that moved, when you signed the final contract to get the house started. And the progress was swift. Efficient for two guys who did all the work themselves. You wondered, briefly, how many projects they normally took on. If they had a crew doing work elsewhere. But it didn’t matter. They were working on your house.
And Tommy was right. The estimate he provided didn’t drain all you’d saved for the project. You had just enough left over to tuck away for your lawyer fees for your inevitable divorce. Something you were wildly ecstatic about.
Over the course of two weeks, Tommy and Joel arrived at seven am on the dot, ripping apart your house piece by piece, hauling things away, cleaning up the site, and working at a scarily efficient tempo.
By the end of the first week, they’d had the upper level of your home completely bare, painted in the soft, off-white color you’d chosen for the hallways, and the corresponding colors you’d chosen for your office, bedroom, and guest room. You slept on the couch while the upstairs was under construction, and by the end of the second week, you were back in your bedroom, adding the decorative touches you’d been working on while they did the hard labor.
Now that your primary living space was completed, they’d moved on to the rest of the house, spending two weeks alone on the bathrooms, and another full day hauling debris from your house.
You enjoyed seeing them bright and early every day. Tommy’s friendly smile, Joel’s gruff nod. After just under a month, you’d grown accustomed to them. You offered them coffee, brewed in your home office instead of the kitchen, and had bagels and fruit out on the kitchen table for them to enjoy at their leisure. Tommy ate the bagels and fruit. Joel guzzled coffee like it would cure whatever had him looking so grumpy all the time.
You chatted with Tommy during your lunch breaks, and you were surprised to find that you enjoyed his company. He was charming and friendly and sweet and nothing like his quietly cantankerous brother. You were lucky if you got more than two words out of Joel in a day, but Tommy was quickly becoming the highlight of the entire project.
You learned a lot about him, and incidentally Joel, every time the two of you sat down for lunch. He told you about their construction company, the scale of their work, and how business has really picked up over the last couple of months. He told you about his wife, Maria, and how she was due to give birth any day now. He expressed his excitement, his trepidation, and joy at becoming a father. He’d had a lot of practice with Joel’s daughter, but she was grown now. That surprised you.
You couldn’t picture Joel getting close enough to someone to have a child with them.
While Joel cut lumber on your back patio, you lowered your voice and asked, “He’s married?”
Tommy took a heaping bite of his sandwich and shook his head, “Nah, wife ran off a couple months after Sarah was born. ‘S just him now that Sarah’s gone off to school in Washington.”
You could see Joel through the patio door, hunched over a piece of lumber, marking it with a pencil, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes focused. You hadn’t let yourself examine him very closely, but watching him work, you were struck by how handsome he was. You’d thought so when you first met the pair of them, but you were so focused on getting the project off the ground, you paid little attention.
His green flannel drew tight over his shoulders and biceps, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He tucked the pencil behind his ear as he maneuvered the piece of wood into place and ripped it through the saw. His forearms tensed, fingers deft and precise as he pulled the wood through. His jaw clenched as he examined it, flicked away the sawdust, eyes singularly focused on his task.
“Easy, sugar,” Tommy drawled, snapping you out of your trance, “He’s a surly old bastard. Don’t wanna get mixed up with that.”
You gaped at him, cheeks coloring, pressing a hand to your chest, “Excuse me? That would be highly inappropriate.” You tried to sound glib, but Tommy was right. You were attracted to Joel. And you were aching for someone to touch you.
You hadn’t had sex in nearly a year thanks to Jeremy’s exploits. You were not interested in contracting an STD from him, and you were so disgusted by him, the thought of having sex with him turned your stomach.
In the month since the project began, Jeremy had only been home twice, complaining about the mess and the dust and screaming at you for going through with the renovation when he’s perfectly capable of doing it all himself.
“Who’s paying for all of this anyway?” He asked derisively. You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him. Joel and Tommy were downstairs, completing the tile work for the guest bathroom, and you knew they could hear every word. “I bet they’re taking you for a ride. Women always get scammed by contractors, are you stupid?”
“Shut the fuck up, Jeremy!” You shouted at him, unable to contain your fury. “Why don’t you just go back to fucking your assistant and keep your shitty opinions to yourself!” You stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his face and retreating to the back patio where Joel was hunched over a wet saw, lining up a tile to cut with with the precision you’d come to expect from him.
He looked up at you, his face neutral, lips set in a firm line, dark eyes assessing.
“Everying alright?”
Stunned by his gentle voice, you’d been unable to speak, simply nodding your head and watching as he nodded back and hunched over the saw again.
Jeremy left, and hadn’t been back since.
Between your frustration at your husband, and Tommy’s comment about Joel, a spark of determination lit inside you like dry shrub in a wild fire. Your previously controlled, distant admiration of Joel transformed into a cloying, desperate urge, and he was the one and only thing on your mind.
But that didn’t mean anything would happen. Not with Joel’s sour disposition and gruff exterior. Talking to Tommy was easy. Talking to Joel – well, there was very little that came out of his mouth, so you weren’t sure it could be qualified as talking. Which is why it was so shocking to you that he’d spoken to you in the first place.
You tried. You really did. Every time he came to your office for a coffee refill, you immediately dropped what you were doing in order to strike up a conversation with him. But he never budged. Just grunted, gave one word answers, sometimes even just stared at you like you hadn’t spoken at all. You wondered why he even bothered coming into your office in the first place. Why not just send Tommy to get his refills if it was such a burden to talk to you?
His silence perturbed you. And you were determined to get his attention.
You were so desperate, you started wearing less. Instead of yoga pants and a conservative pull over sweater, you switched to shorts and loose t-shirts that hung off your shoulder. It was an easy switch to make as the last remnants of chilly spring weather finally succumbed to the prickling heat of summer.
If Joel noticed your slowly deteriorating selection of moderate clothing, he didn’t let on. And the more he ignored you, the more you wanted him.
Instead of letting him come to you for coffee, you brought the pot out to him, low cut, form fitting, spaghetti strap top displaying your perky breasts. Your shorts barely covered your ass. And he didn’t even blink.
“Coffee?” You ask coquettishly, lifting your chest just a touch. His eyes stayed on yours, steadfast, hard, and determined, as he held his mug out for you to fill.
“Thanks,” he grunted, taking a large gulp.
“Hot today,” you point out, the beginning of summer making its presence known. “You sure you don’t wanna come inside? Take a break?”
His eyes never strayed. Not once. He shook his head, “Tommy should be back with more lumber any minute.”
It’s the most words you've heard leave his mouth in a consecutive string. It emboldens you.
You nod at the comfortable, air conditioned living room just on the other side of the French doors, “Just a quick break. I can get you something cold to drink. Lemonade? A beer?”
You were pushing, and he wasn’t conceding, turning back to the makeshift work table he had set up under the shade of your patio; three saw horses with a large piece of plywood acting as the tabletop, “‘M alright, darlin’. Why don’t you go cool off?”
Darlin’. That subtle Texas drawl, syrupy smooth, deep and rich like honey. He’d called you Darlin’.
You shouldn’t devote too much thought to it. Tommy calls you ‘Sugar’ all the time. Even goes as far as ‘Sweetheart’ on some occasions. But it was natural coming from him. Harmless and utterly platonic. He’s a smooth talker and a schmoozer. From Joel, it was so foreign, so out of character, you didn’t know what to do. He’d hardly said two words to you in the past, and now he’s giving you sweet nicknames. Calling you Darlin’ was just as harmless as Tommy calling you Sugar, but it did something to you.
You left him on the patio and shuffled back to your office, dazed.
You liked it, you realized, skin flushed and heat simmering low in your belly. You wanted him to do it again. Call you by more endearing pet names. Even in your five years of marriage to Jeremy, he’d only ever addressed you by your name or a condescending ‘babe’. You hadn’t realized how pathetically you’d been yearning for more. Something softer, sweeter, kinder. Not until Joel.
But he didn’t seem interested. Should you be more direct? Ask him, outright, if he was attracted to you? Should you strip naked and throw yourself at him? No, no. That was too direct. You had more self respect than that. Maybe. Probably not.
Jeremy had neglected you for so long, your mind was spinning out of control. You want to be wanted. You want to be touched. And you want Joel.
When Tommy returned with the lumber, you watched them unload it from his pickup truck. Joel shed his flannel and was now clad in a white t-shirt that hugged his biceps, his back spotted with sweat and his muscles bulging with the effort of lugging wood into your home. Fuck, you couldn’t stand it.
You have to do something about this ache between your legs. The sudden, unquenchable thirst you feel for him. If skimpy outfits and shy invitations to join you for coffee don’t do it, you know what will. And it’s just about as close to stripping naked as you could get.
When Joel arrives the next day, without Tommy, you greet him with a smile, a fresh pot of coffee, and a question in your gaze that asks where his brother is.
“Wife went into labor late last night. I’ll be finishin’ up without him,” he grunts, though without any of the typical irritability that comes with the need to socialize. Maybe the birth of his nephew had softened him.
You’re a little sad you won’t get to see Tommy, but thrilled to have Joel all to yourself.
As you step aside to let him in, you don’t miss the way his eyes flit down your bare legs. You hadn’t bothered getting dressed, still clad in your oversized sleep shirt that barely hangs down past your ass.
As he sets about getting his bearings from where he left off the previous day, you pour him a cup of coffee and toast and butter a bagel for him, knowing he doesn’t much care for the indulgence of cream cheese or jelly. He thanks you with a grunt and shuffles his way onto the patio to get started. Your eyes linger on the way his navy t-shirt stretches across his broad, muscular back.
After you change into a revealing tank top and the shortest shorts you own, you coop yourself up in your office to get some work done. But when you’re done for the day, you can’t help yourself. You check in on him, peering through the back doors and asking if he wants something to eat. You expect him to decline, but when he graciously accepts, you bounce giddily to the kitchen to make him a sandwich.
Today is different. You can feel it.
When you present him with the sandwich, he dusts his hands on his jeans and nods at you in thanks, but doesn’t say anything. He only watches you, eyes flitting to your cleavage so quickly, you think you imagine it. But then he looks you dead in the eyes as he takes a bite of the sandwich and chews it slowly.
Something in you snaps and your blood heats, making your skin flush. You rush away from him, and as you retreat inside, you swear you hear him chuckle.
With your heart racing and an idea bubbling to life in your mind, you race upstairs and start digging through your closet until you find exactly what you’re searching for. If he wants to tease you, you’re going to tease him right back.
You pull on a white and blue bikini with strings that tie at the hips, around the base of your neck, and at the middle of your back. After applying a nude gloss to your lips and dabbing a light amount of makeup across your cheeks, you pull on a black sheer coverup, that flows down past your ankles, leaving it open. It does little to hide your scantily clad body as you tiptoe back downstairs with a book and a bottle of tanning oil in your grip.
You walk past the back door as deliberately as you can, making sure to catch his attention as you carefully maneuver your way through your deconstructed kitchen to fill a glass with ice water and lemon slices. With your sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, you finally step onto the patio, your tits on display, legs bare and gleaming, and smile coy and searching.
”I’m going to lay out by the pool for a bit. If you get hungry or thirsty, help yourself to anything you like,” you tell him, feigning disinterest. Acting like you don’t see the way his throat bobs and his eyes greedily drink you in. He doesn’t say anything to you as you take the three short steps down to your yard and traipse over to your pool.
The early summer sun is blazing hot, and sweat prickles your skin the moment you lay out on your teakwood lounger, the white cushion comfortable but warm from the heat of the day. Your eyes dart toward Joel to make sure he’s watching, and you slowly slip out of your coverup, intentionally dropping it and bending at the waist to pluck it off the stone pavers surrounding your pool.
It feels almost comically pornographic to resort to this type of temptation, but with the blatant way he watches you, it’s worth it.
You lean back on the lounger, snatching up your book and flipping to the page you’d left off on. It’s some tawdry romance novel with a shirtless cowboy on the front. Painfully transparent with little to no plot, but you’re not reading it for the plot, anyway.
Your skin prickles with awareness, your eyes darting toward Joel every few minutes to catch him watching you for the briefest moment before he returns to the meticulous work of assembling your cabinetry.
When your ice water is half gone and too warm to enjoy, you decide to take a brief dip into the pool. You stand, adjusting your bottoms, pulling them up just a touch, before wading slowly into the rippling water. The effect is instant, the water immediately cooling you and making goosebumps pebble across your skin, tightening your nipples.
You’re careful not to get your hair wet, brushing it aside as you drift further in, then back toward the shallow end. A quick glance in his direction makes you frown. His back is to you, broad shoulders leaned over his plywood table.
The power saw buzzes to life, then quiets. He blows away the sawdust, t-shirt damp with sweat. Biceps straining as he joins two pieces of wood together, fastening them with a clamp. You’re enraptured by his focus. Envious of your very own cabinets and wishing he’d look at you with such deliberate intent and concentration. House be damned.
When you can tell he’s about to turn in your direction, you climb out of the pool, allowing the water to trickle off your frame and slick down your body. You run a hand down your stomach, briefly toying with the pink jewel at your naval, then adjust your bottoms again as you strut back to the lounger.
Under the dark, impenetrable lenses of your sunglasses, your eyes dart to him. He’s staring, his throat bobbing, hands tight around the clamps he’s using to fasten the cabinets together.
You hide your smile, laying out on your towel to let the sun soak up the water from your skin. You feel his eyes on you more prominently than the moisture coating your body. With a sly smile, you push your sunglasses down your nose to look at him.
“Hey, Joel?” Voice dripping with honey and mischief.
“Yeah, darlin’?” He calls back, still watching. Not even bothering to pretend anymore. And he calls you that name again. Darlin’. Your core clenches.
Biting your lip, you give him a coquettish look that’s all sin and wicked intention, “Will you help me put on some sunscreen?”
Straight out of a porno. The oldest trick in the book. Painfully, achingly transparent. You’re inviting him to touch you. And even from afar, you can see his resolve snap. Eyes darkening, posture going rigid.
“You sure about that?” He asks, voice tight and rough.
You nod, biting your lip for good measure, “Uh huh.”
He shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s about to do, and a devilish smile spreads across your face, triumphant. Joel dusts his hands off on his jeans, trudges down the patio steps, and prowls over to your lounger. His tall, broad frame eclipses the sun, casting shade over you. You grin and roll onto your stomach, acutely aware of the way your ass looks in your tiny bikini.
“Sunscreen, there,” you point to the bottle of tanning lotion on the teakwood table next to you. It’s more of an oil with UV protection, but the idea is the same: you want him to rub it all over your body, and then fuck you senseless.
The scent of pine and leather wraps around you as he sits on the edge of the lounger, careful not to touch you. He grabs the oil and huffs a laugh, “This ain’t sunscreen.”
“It has UV protection!” You argue.
“This is nothin’ more than body oil.”
“Still. Please?” You ask, looking back at him and resting your cheek on your arms. He shakes his head, cheeks dimpling against the smile he’s trying to fight off.
“Ain’t payin’ me to lather you up, honey,” he says under his breath, flicking the cap of the oil open and drizzling it along your back.
“That’s okay. You need a break.”
He hums, setting the bottle aside. Your entire body tingles with anticipation, waiting for his skin on yours. You wait and wait, feeling the oil drip along your spine, your shoulders. Then, finally, the coarse surface of his work roughed hand meets your skin and you shiver.
“S’it okay if I untie this?” He asks, voice so low, so smooth, you’re sure you imagined it. But then you feel his fingers playing with the ties at your neck and you nod, frantically, too eager. “Of course it is.”
You almost giggle. He knows what you’re doing and he’s still placating you. You wiggle a little when he unties the neck, then the back, leaving you bare from the waist up. The moment his hands are back on you, you gasp. Pressure firm, but gentle. Sure and thorough as he spreads the oil around your skin. Brushing your hair aside, he massages the oil into your neck. You peek at him to see that concentrated look on his face. Like tearing him away from his task would undo him.
Then, both of his palms press into your back, eliciting a moan straight from your lips. You clamp your mouth shut, but the pressure is so divine, you almost do it again.
“Feels okay?” He mutters, hands skimming down your body, your waist, your lower back, and then up again. His fingers graze the sides of your breasts and you nod again. God, if he stopped now, you think you’d cry.
Every pass of his hands turns you to jelly, and soon, he moves down to your legs, first starting at your ankles, then up your calves, careful not to go much further than the bend in your knee. You’re soaked. Skin humming with the effects of his firm, soothing touch, heated by the sun, and glowing faintly with the sheen of oil.
When you feel his hand inch up the inside of your thigh, you suck in a breath.
”Relax,” he coaxes, moving from the top of your thigh down to your knee and back up again. Over and over and over, pressing a little firmer on the way up, and stopping just short of the gusset of your skimpy bikini. “You told me to help myself to anything I liked.”
You did say that. And then you called him over to you to touch you freely. You grin, peeking up at him, cheek resting against your arms, “And you like me?”
His cheeks dimple, his smile so soft, so sexy, you almost say to hell with your little ruse. Something between a grunt and a laugh escapes him, “Darlin’, you got no idea.”
Darlin’. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it. You feel yourself grow damp as he moves his hands to your other thigh, repeating the same, torturous ministrations. But this time, he goes so much higher, you think he’s going to graze the covered, soaked apex of your desperately neglected pussy. He never does. Massages right below it. There’s no reason to put oil there, but he does it anyway. His thumbs get closer, massaging circles into your skin, very nearly grazing you, teasing, refusing to give you what you want.
When his hands leave you, you almost cry out in protest, but then he’s nudging your hip, “Turn over for me, sweetheart.”
As you lift up to turn, you toss your bikini top aside, having no desire to feign modesty any longer. He knows it, and you know it. You want him to fuck you.
His eyes spark with interest as they land on your breasts, perky and waiting, nipples tight from your dip in the pool. You lie back, making yourself comfortable as he stares.
He chuckles, deep and smooth, “Not bein’ shy no more, are you?”
You grin in response as he grabs the oil and drizzles it over your chest, your stomach, and along your arms. He starts at your hands, making sure you’re fully covered, his large ones engulfing them completely in his grasp. The texture of his fingers is rough, but you like it as he moves his way up your wrists, your forearms, and then toward your shoulders, massaging along the way.
“Mm, Joel,” you sigh, his hands rubbing the oil into you completely before moving on. He presses his thumbs into your shoulders, then your collar bones, then the tops of your breasts. He still doesn’t touch you there, but then one hand wraps around your throat, resting, thumbing your pulse point where it hammers rapidly against your skin.
“Lookin’ so pretty,” he says quietly, keeping one hand on your neck while the other finally finally covers your breast. The initial touch is feather light, thumb grazing your nipple. Then, he presses firmer, his entire hand covering you with his palm while he kneads and massages. His hand leaves your neck only to cover your other breast, and you’re giddy with need as he works you into a whimpering, keening mess. “That feel good, darlin’?”
“So good,” you nod, grabbing his wrist to keep him there, demanding more.
He hums, keeping the hand you’ve now possessed on your breast, while the other moves down to rub oil into your tummy. His hands are a work of art, skilled in so many ways. You’re trembling by the time he reaches the top of your bikini bottoms. His pinky slips under the hem, making you gasp. He withdraws and does it again, rubbing back and forth until your hips move up to seek his touch.
“Want me to take these off?” He asks, tugging at the strings, already knowing your answer before you nod rapidly.
“Off, please. Take them off.”
His reply is a deep grunt, and you think that must be his grumpy little way of teasing you, “Needy little thing.”
The bottoms come off, and you’re bared to him, your center slick with need and ready to be fucked. But you just know he’s going to take his time. Simultaneously, you can’t stand it, but you also yearn for it. Being teased and molded into a whimpering mess, desperate for his touch. Your husband has never made you feel like this. Sexy. Desirable. Loved.
“Fuck, look at that pussy, baby,” he groans, still not touching you where you really, really need it. He’s massaging your hips now, leaning over you in a way that’s almost obscene as he gets closer to your slick heat. His thumbs press into your hips, then down your thighs until he’s rubbing oil into your legs, still neglecting you, even though every pretense of professionalism has all but burned up in the wake of your arousal.
“Joel,” you whine, arching your hips.
“Patience,” he answers sternly. And that’s that. Nothing more.
Every stroke up and down your leg is torture as he repeats the same teasing he’d done to the backs of your legs. Getting closer and closer to your pussy, but never fully touching. You’re so eager, your slick coats your thighs, and on a final pass, he rubs it into your skin before his fingers finally graze your clit. You suck in a sharp breath, your hand shooting out to grab him again. To keep him there. Because if he stops now, you think you’ll actually die.
You look up at him, his eyes dark, his grin wide. You’ve never seen him smile like that, and it’s blinding, warm, and teasing. He rubs circles over your clit delicately, not pressing too hard, not too light. It’s so perfect and you’re so on edge that it has you on the precipice of your orgasm faster than you can blink.
And then he eases up, halting your peak so quickly, your hips buck, making you moan in protest, “No, no, no, don’t stop, please, Joel.”
“Ain’t plannin’ on stoppin’, baby,” he says softly, “Just need to get a better look at you.”
And then he shifts, gently lowering himself to the ground, knees probably screaming in protest, and grabbing you by the hips to pull you to the edge of the lounger, slightly askew on the cushion, but still comfortable. He lowers his head, making you squirm, lips brushing against your hip, across your tummy, briefly pausing to kiss around the pink belly button piercing. You arch your hips, enticing him.
“So eager,” he grumbles, one hand spreading your thigh, hooking it onto his shoulder, the other running up your opposite leg, kneading and massaging you into a puddle.
“I need — I need—“ you breathe, one hand clutching the teakwood, the other reaching for him, digging into the muscles of his shoulder.
“What do you need, baby?”
Your chest is heaving as he plants another kiss below your bellybutton, still massaging your leg while his other hand keeps your thigh firmly planted over his shoulder.
“Fuck, you smell so sweet,” he sighs, inching down. It’s torture. It’s pure, unbridled torture — waiting for him. You’re a slick mess, oiled up, pussy wet, walls fluttering around nothing. “Tell me what you need,” he repeats.
“I need your tongue,” you gasp, the prickle of his beard on your skin driving you insane. You never would have guessed this. That Joel Miller is a fucking tease. That he’s slow and methodical. That he enjoys making you squirm. But here he is, peppering kisses all across your body, everywhere except your aching core, “Please, make me cum. Please, Joel.”
His chuckle is deep, a hint of red coloring his cheeks and neck, either from the sun or arousal, you don’t care.
“Since you asked nicely.”
And then his mouth is on you, hands spreading your thighs wide, keeping you open for him as he drags his tongue from your weeping cunt to your clit where he sucks, teasing you, making you gasp for air, arching your back off the lounger.
Your burrow a hand into his hair — it’s damp with sweat, but that doesn’t bother you in the slightest.
His mouth is devastating against you, licking stripe after stripe up your slit, pausing briefly to suck and nibble at your clit until you’re sobbing with need. And then, just when you think it can’t get any better, he pushes one, thick finger into you, stretching you. The burn makes you cry out, the slow drag sending prickles of lightning up your spine.
“This is what you wanted, right, darlin’?” He asks, voice rough with arousal, eyes nearly black as he slowly pumps his finger into you. “It’s why you’ve been walkin’ around lookin’ like that. No pants on. Shorts barely coverin’ you, askin’ me to touch you. Askin’ to get fucked.”
You can’t answer. Your voice stalls in your throat. You can only nod, frantically. He adds a second finger and it almost undoes you. You’re so fucking close. He pushes them deep, leaning down to tease your clit again with his mouth, sucking hard, groaning.
“How do you think your husband would feel if he knew his pretty little wife was gettin’ fucked by the help?”
He twists his fingers, curling them just so. He prods at the sensitive, soft spot inside you, making your arch.
“Ex. Ex — husband. Soon.”
He hums, “Judging by that ring, he’s no ex.”
It takes every ounce of will power you have to rip your hand away from him and tear the ring off your finger. It glints in the sun and clatters on the table next to you when you slam it down. Then your hand is back in his hair, urging him back to your cunt where he grins and licks you again, this time not pausing, not slowing.
Your orgasm is volcanic, blinding. You think you scream. You know your fingers clench around his hair so tight, you’re in danger of pulling it out of his scalp. And he just keeps going. Finger fucking you into oblivion, tasting your release on his tongue, moaning against you as you ride the waves of your climax into bliss.
You’re trembling when he lifts himself off the ground, fingers still probing deep, hunting for another orgasm. He leans over you, bracing his other hand next to your head, and kisses you. You whimper into his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips, tongues stroking and breaths mingling.
“Joel,” you moan when he removes his fingers, leaving you empty and limp. But he’s not pulling away. He’s kissing down your neck, sucking a spot just below your ear that drives you crazy that your husband always neglects, and undoing his belt.
“Tell me what you need,” he says into your neck. But he already knows. You know he knows. You’ve been begging for it this entire time.
“Fuck me, Joel,” you whine, hands searching for the end of his shirt. They slip underneath, and you moan at the way his muscles feel under your fingertips. He’s warm and rough and you want to see him. “Off.”
He hums, leaning up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere among your discarded bikini. He comes back to you, lips hot on yours while you concentrate your efforts on getting his jeans undone. He’s hard against your hand as you pull the zipper down, aching and needy.
Once his cock is freed, you break away to take him in, and you almost shrink. He is huge, leaking from the tip, resting heavy against your thigh. Even with how wet you are, you don’t know if he’ll fit. But God you want to try.
“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he grunts, shoving his jeans and boxers off. He straightens you on the lounger, making room for himself as he climbs over you. He’s golden and glistening in the sun, slick with sweat and your arousal shimmering on his chin.
The sight of his broad, hard form over you almost makes you cum again.
He catches you gawking and you could swear he’s trying to fight off a smug smile, but his lips only twitch in amusement instead. Taking his cock in hand, he drags the tip through your folds, making you shudder and reach for his hips, holding him as he hovers, nails pressing a little harder than you intend. He doesn’t seem to mind.
As his tip catches your entrance, he groans, “Nice and wet for me, aren’t you?”
You can only nod, speech evading you as he slowly, cautiously sinks into you. The stretch is everything. You’re so full, so wet, and inconsolable, it makes you mewl in delight.
“What’s that, darlin’?”
”So — so big. Your cock is so big, Joel,” you sigh, shifting your hips, taking him deeper. The burn is exquisite, but you need him to move. Need him to fuck you into another reality. ”Please..”
”Such pretty little manners,” he tells you, withdrawing slowly.
The first thrust is devastating. The second is mind numbing. And after the third, you’re holding onto him for dear life. It doesn’t take long for you to melt underneath him, arching your hips so he hits at just the right angle.
“Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, baby,” he pants, leaning down to mutter profanities into your ear, nibbling and kissing your neck, “That husband doesn’t take care of you at all does he?”
”No, no, no, never,” you chant, every part of you ready to snap.
“Bet he hasn’t fucked you proper in years,” he grunts, the sound of your skin slapping together downright obscene. “That’s all you needed, huh, darlin’?”
“Uh huh,” you yelp, almost a broken sob leaving you as he drives into you, “Fuck me, Joel..”
“Nothin’ to worry about now, I’ll take real good care of you.”
You could cry from the relief of it. The way his hips slam into you, how deep he is, how attentive. Even at the strongest point in your marriage, it’s never been like this, and it’s ecstasy.
Pleasure pools low in your belly, his cock hitting that sweet, sensitive spot inside you so perfectly, the precipice of your orgasm is on you in an instant. Just as you’re about to cum, he stills, breath heaving, your walls trembling, clenching around him.
“Joel,” you whine, breathless and wanting.
“Not yet, baby,” he tells you, voice syrupy and thick. Pressing a kiss to your neck, then your lips, he sits up on his knees, takes you by the thighs and lifts your hips to grind against him. The position is utterly indecent, back arched, him holding your thighs for leverage while he begins snapping his hips against you. And it’s like he never stopped in the first place.
Your orgasm crashes into you, hands reaching for his wrists to hold on as he towers over you, giving you everything he’s got. The power of his thrusts knocks the breath out of you.
“Take it, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he grounds out, sweat slicking his muscled chest, dripping down his temple. “You got me so wound up, darlin’, prancin’ around looking sexy as sin. Now I’ve got you all to myself.”
“Don’t stop, please,” you keen, desperately grasping for air, your climax driving away all rational thought and composure. “It’s so good, please, don’t stop.”
“Gonna make me cum, sayin’ things like that.”
You think, then, that you’d be fine with it. Letting him cum inside you, or paint your oiled up body with his seed. Mark you, stake his claim on you. He can cum wherever he wants, you decide, as long as he promises to do it again.
“Ain’t gonna let that piece of shit husband touch you again,” he declares, pinning you with a solid, steady stare, “You’re mine now, darlin’.”
You tell him, then, “Cum inside me, Joel,” nearly sobbing as his powerful thrusts drive you toward another orgasm with blinding speed. His movements are precise and deliberate, his eyes going dark at your words.
You know he wants to do it, that he can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. Even if you weren’t begging for it.
“Yeah?” He huffs, hooking his arms a little higher around your thighs to gain better leverage. You shift your hips, cry out as his cock goes deeper, spearing into you so completely you never want him to leave.
You’re almost sobbing with the approach of another orgasm, one that will undo you and wreck you for the rest of your life. All you can do is nod and gasp and hold onto him as he fucks you deeper. Your neighbors are going to hate you.
“Shit, darlin’,” he grunts, the buck of his hips frantic as he chases his release. When your nails bite into his forearm, the tight coil of his control snaps like a cable and you feel warm ropes of cum fill you. A final orgasm paints stars across your vision, and you faintly hear a guttural moan leave him as you tighten around him once more. He doesn’t stop fucking you until you’re both spent, your muscles aching and fingers sore from how tightly you have them wound around his wrists.
He collapses on top of you in a heap, your bodies slippery with sweat and oil. His hot breath fans over your neck, the weight of him both grounding and comforting. The scruff of his beard prickles your skin as he peppers kisses along your chin, down the column of your throat.
”Ain’t gonna be able to finish those cabinets today,” he grunts.
A slow smile spreads across your lips, ”Why not?”
He lifts his head to gift you with a warm smile of his own, captivated, even after the way he’d fucked you. Surprised that he gives it so willingly now that you’ve had each other in the most physical and intimate manner possible.
”Wanna take you out. Dinner. Will you let me?”
His offer stuns you into silence.
Yes, you’d practically begged for him to fuck you. Asked him to cum inside you. Told him you were as good as divorced. And yeah, you have every intention of having sex with him again.
But a date? That says something. It speaks volumes to his intentions. Which both frightens and thrills you.
Despite you throwing yourself at him for weeks on end and finally getting what you want, he wants more. And not just your body.
Your hesitation draws his eyebrows down, “We don’t have to ––“
”I want to,” you answer quickly. But there’s still that lingering sense of doubt. Of trusting someone with yourself only to be stabbed in the back. Betrayed in the most visceral sense. You didn’t have sex with him because you wanted to move on from Jeremy right into another twisted, sickly excuse for a relationship. You just needed attention. And Joel gave it.
He lifts himself off of you and pulls on his jeans, “It’s fine if you don’t wanna ––“
”Joel.”
”I’m too old to be playin’ games, darlin’. If I wasn’t clear before — I like you. More than I should. And I know you’re married, but that didn’t stop us, did it? So if you want this, I’m here. If not, no hard feelin’s.”
He’s half dressed now, jeans buttoned, belt still hanging loose, t-shirt hanging over his broad shoulder. His wide frame blocks the sun, allowing you to see him clearly. No man has ever been as direct and straightforward with his needs. Not like that. It’s… different. Refreshing. Almost unheard of.
You almost want to pull him back down and let him have his way with you again, but you’re a woman of control and poise. You can articulate your needs just as clearly as he has. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit interested in seeing what manifests.
”Dinner would be lovely,” you begin, keeping your expression controlled, “When Jeremy gets back from whatever trip he’s on, I’m serving him the divorce papers.”
You can see the moment when your words sink in, the pleasant twitch of his lips, the way he leans over you and brushes his lips against yours. This kiss is tender and sweet in a way you haven’t experienced from your own husband in years. But it’s what he says next that turns your body into mush and your mind pliant and docile.
Take my hand where you want it - boss!Joel Miller x married!f!reader
Rating: Explicit, MDNI
WC: 2,6k
Summary: After you discover that your husband is cheating on you with Joel's secretary, Joel becomes your confidant.
One night, after your husband comes home late yet again, you rush to Joel for comfort. And Joel makes sure you get everything you deserve.
Tags: no outbreak, smut with a little plot, infidelity, reader is the wife of one of Joel's employees, kissing, reader gives instructions to Joel, consent king!Joel, soft!Joel, unprotected p in v, cream pie, nipple play, tits biting, sex on a table, hubby cheated first so fuck him, dirty talking, praising, Joel and his huge cock (heheheh), Joel keeps reader panties, pussy pronouns,mention of a vibe and masturbation, no description of reader besides having pussy and breasts and wearing a dress.
A/N: This one won the poll I made for the latest WIP Wednesday. I don't know why infidelity has become a recurring trope for me, I would never do that in real life, but here we are 😂 (I'm also single af sooo). English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you like it, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
dividers by: @/saradika-graphics
You don’t know what drove you to do it. Or rather, you do know. All too well.
You snuck out at night, like a thief, leaving your husband in bed.
How ironic. Until recently, you were responsible, a devoted wife, someone who tried her best to make the relationship work.
Of course, that was before you found out your husband was systematically cheating on you. Every sudden meeting, every urgent deadline, every project he had to work on late into the night—it was actually his boss secretary riding his cock in a seedy motel.
So what was the point of struggling to hold together the shards of something that was shattering right before your eyes?
What was the point of settling for your vibrator, masturbating silently in the bathroom, biting your lips and stifling your desperate need for someone to make you come the way your husband hadn’t even dreamed of doing for so long—far too long—while he had no qualms about shoving his cock into another woman’s pussy?
One day you stopped by the construction site where you thought you’d find your husband to bring him his favorite sandwich.
You didn’t find him. But you found Joel, his boss.
He was nice. He told you your husband was out to lunch. “Actually, he’s running late—he was supposed to be back half an hour ago.”
You looked at him. You looked at the desk next to his, and then back at him.
“Where’s Joanne?”
“At lunch,” he told you.
“They always disappear at the same time, right?”
You saw the exact moment when something clicked in his brain, when he connected the dots and his eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip trembling.
“Shit,” he whispered, his hands on his hips.
He didn’t dare look at you anymore, his eyes fixed on Joanne’s empty chair.
You didn’t want to cry, but you felt your cheeks streaked and wet.
Joel looked embarrassed, sorry, still confused as to how something like that had slipped his mind.
“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” he tried to explain.
“It’s not your fault, you know. A wife notices that kind of thing…” you said, quickly wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand.
Joel hugged you.
Driving home, you spent the whole time thinking about why you’d chosen a man like your husband instead of someone like Joel.
Why did you always fall in love with jerks? Why did you always let them treat you that way?
Your husband was late again. By now, you’d given up hope that he’d change. You pretended to be asleep, waited for him to get into bed and hear him snoring, and then you slipped out from under the covers.
Fuck it. Fuck him and the way he never knew how to satisfy you. Or take you into consideration. He’d been taking you for granted for at least a year.
At that point, you’d had enough of having dinner ready for him, the house clean, and his clothes washed and perfectly ironed.
Fuck it.
You threw on a dress in a hurry, fixed your hair, grabbed your bike, and started pedaling into the night. You weren’t even thinking about where you were going as the wind whipped against your face and your bike’s light cut through the darkness.
You arrived in front of Joel’s house. You left your bike in his driveway and knocked on the door.
The light was on in his bedroom. You heard his footsteps approaching as you waited under his porch in total silence.
The neighborhood was asleep.
“What are you doing here? Did something happen?” Joel asked you. He seemed surprised but stepped aside to let you in.
“Sorry for showing up here at this hour,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling the weight of what you were doing. “Joel, he…”
“Did he do it again?” he interrupted, looking at you with concern.
You instinctively buried your face in his chest. Joel didn’t touch you, but he let you do it.
“I’m so tired, so tired,” you cried, soaking his shirt.
You looked at him through your tears, asking the one question you were truly afraid to ask.
“I have to file for divorce, don’t I?”
“I mean…not my business but he’s a jerk. He doesn’t deserve you,” Joel nodded.
You knew that.
Joel had become your confidant by chance, but he’d been a good friend.
You’d been talking for a few weeks, ever since the first time he’d comforted you.
It was nice. He was nice.
You didn't have the courage, and you'd never been the vengeful type, but a few times you were on the verge of asking him to fire your husband.
Joel’s hands rested on your shoulders, then on your back, holding you close. “Cry,” he said simply, in a gentle voice, “let it all out.”
Joel was warm. He was gentle, reassuring, affectionate. And you needed that.
Your tear-filled eyes met his again, his knuckles brushed your cheek in a barely perceptible caress.
You took his hand. Clasping it tightly in yours, you pressed your lips to the back of his hand, whispering, “Thank you, Joel.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied, smiling at you “You can stay here for a while if you want. I'll go to my room, but call me if you need anything.”
“No, please, don’t leave me alone…” you begged him, unable to let go of his hand.
You hadn’t held a man’s hand in a long time, and Joel’s fingers intertwined with yours felt wonderful.
A feeling you’d been missing.
“What can I do for you?” he asked you. No one had asked you anything like that in years.
No one had paid you any attention in months.
Your husband fucked you lazily a couple of times recently, just quick thrusts, without any care or feeling, just out of marital duty. It was as if he were having sex with an inflatable doll.
It made you feel stupid and inadequate, without any charm or allure.
You didn’t know what to say.
“I…” You were afraid. Afraid to express what you were feeling, to say what you were going through, to put a name to what Joel was making you feel.
You realized you were trembling in his arms. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t fear—it was desire.
And when your brain registered it, sending the message to the lower part of your body, you felt a warmth rising from your stomach. A sensation similar to when you let yourself go in the privacy of your bathroom, slipping the vibrator into your panties.
So screw it.
“I just want to feel alive again, I want passion… I want…”
“Sex?” He interrupted you. Straight to the point.
“I…yeah” you lowered your gaze, looking at the tips of your shoes.
“With me?” He asked, gently taking your chin with two fingers and bringing your gaze back to his.
“P-Please…” you muttered.
You couldn't have thought of anyone else. No one who made you feel as safe as Joel.
“Take my hand where you want it,” he invited you. He was calm, reading your eyes, sensing your need.
“Take my hand where you want it”
Holding him by the wrist, you lifted your dress with your other hand, placing Joel’s hand on your hip, just above the waistband of your panties. Joel’s hand was relaxed; he let you guide it.
That was all it took.
You were standing in his living room, and the way Joel’s eyes were looking at you made you think you deserved more. You deserved someone who would look at you as intensely as he was. You deserved him.
Joel held you gently, respectfully; his fingers lingered at the hem of your panties, waiting for your consent. He didn’t go any further, letting you enjoy the weight of his hand on you, his warmth, and his long, calloused fingers resting on your bare skin.
You basked in that sensation, feeling your body come back to life, ignite, and burn.
Joel had never allowed himself to cross the line; he’d always acted like a friend up until that moment—never an inappropriate joke, never a mean remark, never trying to dominate you or force you to do anything you weren’t ready for.
But now, this unexpected closeness was telling you everything you needed to know. His gaze spoke for him, as did his hands and his hips, which moved involuntarily against yours, like a reflex he couldn’t control. He lowered his gaze, you even thought you saw him blush.
You were ready to allow yourself to think about yourself—and only yourself—as you hadn't done in far too long.
You let his hand slide down onto your panties.
His fingers moved cautiously, sliding down at the side, as if he were afraid to get too close to your center.
“Joel…”
“What do you want, baby?”
“I want you” you hesitated for a second before adding, “I want you to remind me what it feels like… touch me, Joel.” Your voice was shaky as you looked into his eyes. But you were certain, more certain than you’d ever been about anything.
“Guide me, then. Use your words, sweetheart, tell me exactly how you want me to touch you.”
And you did.
His hand slid down over your mound, while his mouth was on your neck, kissing and sucking on you tender skin.
His index and middle fingers found your wetness, plunging into it, gathering it up, and guiding it toward your clit.
You moaned, and when he began to trace tight concentric circles on your nerve bundle, you praised him, “Like that… just like that, don’t stop.”
Joel tried to take it slow and steady; whenever he applied too much pressure, you gently corrected him, and he caught on immediately, learning to read your body’s reactions.
His other hand clasped your breast again, and you found enough strength to whisper, “Play with my nipples.”
Two of his fingers closed around it, twisting it, pulling gently, making it harden. A shiver ran down your spine, and a guttural sound escaped your throat: “God… yes.”
He was completely focused on you; his clothed erection was pressing against your thigh, but he didn't seem bothered by it.
Your dress slipped over your head shortly after, he pulled down your bra, and his fingers were around your button again.
He leaned down, his fingers still tracing circles over your clit as your nipple slipped between his lips. He began to suck slowly, his tongue darting over the tip, his hand cupping the underside of your breast, testing your softness.
“Bite it…” you moaned, your hand tugging his hair at the base of his neck.
He did it, softly, holding his bite ever so gently but squeezing enough to make your knees buckle.
He smiled on your skin, watching you slowly fall apart for him.
“You like that, huh? Want more?”
“Yes” you replied under your breath, clutching your other hand on his bicep.
“This pussy’s been neglected for too long, babe, you want me to take care of her?” He whispered.
“Please…that’s all I want” you whined.
“Table, couch, bed… choose” he growled.
“Table” You didn't know how long it had been since your husband had slammed you onto your kitchen table to fuck you. He'd done it when you were newlyweds. Now it was a faint memory.
God, you missed that type of passion so badly.
Joel took you in his arms, your legs around his waist. He pushed you on the table, took off your shoes and slid your panties down.
“Taking this a little souvenir, okay?” He said, pushed them down the pocket of his jeans.
You giggled “yeah, why not”
He looked at you, all spread and open for him.
“You look amazing like that”
You felt your cheeks heat up as you begged him, “Fuck me, Joel, please.”
“How do you want it?” he asked. He was calm and composed, waiting for your instructions, despite the bulge growing in his pants.
“Rough,” you replied, “and raw.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Joel.” You smiled at him. You had a IUD and you trusted him more than any man you knew.
Joel wasn’t a womanizer. He raised his daughter on his own, built a company from scratch, he didn't have time to screw around.
But boy, he fucked you like crazy that night.
He leaned down over you, kissed a trail down your neck, along your collarbone, and down your arm until he took your fingers into his mouth.
He coated them with his saliva, his tongue gliding skillfully over them. He released them, smirking.
“Do me a favor, okay? Use them on your clit while I fuck you. I'd really love to see it”
You nodded, feeling your whole body aching for him..
He took off his shirt, revealing his freckled, tanned chest. Your mouth watered at the sight. He was so handsome. Muscular, but not too much. Your eyes took in his broad shoulders, his biceps, and drifted down to the happy trail that disappeared into his jeans. He pulled them down, kicking them off. When his boxers joined his jeans on the floor, you were left breathless.
He was huge. He wrapped one hand around it, moving closer.
“I know what you’re thinking. It’s okay, it’ll fit.”
You were soaking wet. With every centimeter he entered you, you felt his veins sliding against your walls, his girth stretching you, as you eagerly sucked his cocked in.
Joel was praising you, whispering in your ear, “Good girl. All nice and wet for me. You’re taking it so well.”
Every word that slipped into your ears sounded like honey—or perhaps like a poison that was hypnotizing you. You liked it. You wanted more. Moans rose from your throat uncontrollably.
“All the w-way in,” you managed to stammer, “give it to m-me. . . all of it, Joel.”
When he reached the bottom, you felt his balls press against your butt.
“Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.” You were filled to the brim. Craig, your husband, couldn't even come close to competing. He had a nice cock, sure, but Joel...
He grabbed your legs, holding them slightly raised with his arms, and started moving.
You were bouncing on the table as if you weighed nothing, while he thrust into you.
One of his hands reached for your breast, the other held you by the hips.
“That's what you needed, right? For me to stuff you like this? To stretch out this pretty little pussy, huh?” He grunted.
“Yes. Yes Joel”
He lifted you up to sit on the table, sliding you along the edge—still inside you—while holding one of your legs.
The change in position allowed him to reach that special spot inside you.
You slid your hand down between the two of you, reaching your clit.
“Yeah, baby, touch yourself.”
It was intoxicating. As soon as you started drawing circles on your bundle of nerves, you started moaning his name, over and over. So loud that you thought the whole neighborhood would hear you.
Your breasts were pressed against his sweat-beaded chest, your nipples rubbing against it with every thrust.
Your other hand slid through his hair, tugging at his curls.
“That’s it, gorgeous, Don’t stop stroking that pretty clit for me”
That idiot Craig never let you do it, every time you tried, he complained that he wasn't enough for you.
Joel was urging you on, “Come on, baby, I know you’re close, I can feel the way you’re clenching around me” speeding up the pace.
You did, your cunt was literally spasming around the huge thickness of his cock, crying all over, juices dripping on your inner thighs.
You came, quivering in his arms, your whole body shaking, overstimulated and exhausted.
He came right after you with a convulsive thrust of his hips, unloading his cum inside you in long, thick spurts.
“Everything okay?” he asked you, as soon as he caught his breath.
He gently kissed your lips, cupping your cheek.
You smiled. You hadn't smiled like that in so long you couldn't even remember when.
“It was amazing. Everything I could have wanted, and more.” You returned his kiss, lingering on the taste of him.
Craig was no longer even in the back of your mind. He and his lover could have a happy life—you didn't care.
Summary: The one with you and Harry having your first date.
w.c: 5,4 k
warnings: age gap (harry is 45 and reader is in her early 30s) poorly written smut and fluff (yes, no angst for one chapter)
A/N: Ignore the chapter i posted yesterday because i din't put the whole chapter on here 😭 that didn't happen. It's finally here. I'm sorry for taking so long to post this. I'm not gonna write anything else besides this until i finish this as said in a recent post you can find here, and perhaps I get my creativity back, but we still have more of these two. I hope you enjoy this fluffy chapter because the next one brings the angst back. Take care and i'm sending you kisses.
PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK
dividers by @/strangergraphics
Harry woke first this morning. Sunlight filled the room with its radiant golden light, cutting through the traces left behind by last night’s storm. He looked over at you. Your face was peaceful in the early light of day, finally free from the tension the rain had brought to you. For the first time in days, the heavy weight on his shoulder was gone.
The light warmed up his skin, and the distant crash of waves filled the silence from the first hours in the early morning. A smile broke across his face as he looked beside him; there you were, curled up against his chest, one arm tucked beneath your cheek, your morning hair messy over the pillow. He felt a sudden, achy affection in his chest, a quiet certainty that he would remember this exact picture for the rest of his days. He just wanted to stay still so he wouldn’t ruin the moment.
He got the feeling his wounds were healing, and an overwhelming sensation took over because now he thought he would never want anybody else but you.
Harry moved his eyes past you, leaving out a soft laugh at the sight of Coco sprawled flat on his back, taking up a ridiculous amount of space for such a tiny dog. Still smiling, Harry reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. But the instant his lips touched your skin, the warmth radiating there shot a spike of anxiety through his body, instantly ruining the moment. His brows furrowed. You weren’t burning up, but you were warm. Frowning, he pulled back and pressed his palm on your forehead, trying to check the temperature.
You made a sleepy sound, tucking yourself closer to him.
Harry smiled. “Baby…”
He got nothing but silence in return, so he began rubbing circles on your back. “Come on, wake up.”
Another murmur escaped your lips, but you only moved closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Harry chuckled and kissed your temple. “Gorgeous…”
Again, nothing but silence.
With a frown of protest, you wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling his down before he could move away.
“Shhh…” you murmured; your voice thick with sleep. “Don’t.”
Harry laughed. “I’m trying to wake you up.”
“No,” you shook your head, tightening your embrace around his neck. “You’re talking too much.”
His smile widened. “I’m worried about you.”
You sighed without opening your eyes. “So, worry later.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think that’s how worrying works.”
“Mmmm…” You nuzzled closer until your forehead rested beneath his chin. “Five more minutes.”
He looked down at you with amusement and tenderness, a soft laugh vibrating against your ear.
“You have no idea how cute you are.”
A tiny smile tugged at your lips. “I know.”
“Oh, so you know.”
“Mhmm.” You yawned. “And I like my pillow.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
You nodded lazily on his chest. “This warm one.”
His heart melted. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your hair. “You know,” he whispered, “I’m beginning to think you’re only using me because I’m comfortable for your sleep.”
You finally cracked one eye open, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “Maybe.”
“Coco, did you hear that?” Harry gasped.
The puppy lifted one ear and decided the conversation wasn’t important enough, so he went right back to sleep.
Harry looked back down, meeting your eyes as your smile widened. Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his cheek. “Good morning.”
He leaned into your touch for a brief second, but the reminder of the heat made him pull back a bit. He brushed his thumb over your forehead again. “You feel a little warm.”
You frowned sleepily. “Do I?”
“A little.” He nodded, no erasing the smile from his face.
You hummed, completely unconcerned.
Harry, however, wasn’t letting go. “I think breakfast in bed might be today’s plan.”
You groaned into his chest. “I have to work.”
“Take the day off.”
“I have responsibilities.”
“Yes, but if you go, you’re only going to get sicker,” he said. He kept stroking your hair, his fingers slipping among the soft strands while you stayed tucked against him.
Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. There was no need to, not when the silence felt this comfortable. Harry looked down at you again, noticing your eyelids were still heavy.
His thumb brushed over your temple. “Are you hungry?”
You hummed quietly. “Maybe.”
Harry teased, “Maybe?”
“I’m still deciding,” you murmured. “It depends on what you have to offer.”
He chuckled, leaning down slightly. “Well, I can help you decide. What are you craving?”
It was such an ordinary question, but it carried the quiet weight of the secret language two lovers learned to speak before falling. It caught you completely off guard because you had never had this before. This man had stumbled into your life and turned everything bright, completely driving away the cold gloom of your bluest days. And now, here he was, kissing your temple in the morning and asking you what you wanted for breakfast.
You searched his face for a moment.
Harry notices the way your expression softened. “What?”
You shook your head faintly. “Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow, his fingers tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. “What would you like?”
You pretended to think very seriously. “Hmmm…”
Harry waited patiently. “Pancakes?”
You looked guilty. “Asking me like that makes me think you’re expecting me to say no. I don’t even know how stocked your kitchen is.”
Harry smiled, playfully. “I’ll make pancakes.”
“Can you even make pancakes?” you asked, skeptical of his cooking abilities.
“Cooking happens to be one of my talents, gorgeous,” he replied, flashing a smile that felt as bright as the sun.
You laughed quietly. Harry felt a sudden, sharp tug in his chest at the sound. “There she is.”
You groaned. “You really need a new line.”
“It keeps working.” Harry smiled to himself, brushing his knuckles lightly across your cheek. “But first…I want you to stay right here.”
“I’m not five.”
“I know.”
“But you keep talking to me like I am.”
“I’m talking to you like someone who spent hours wandering around in the rain yesterday and is a bit sick now.”
You opened your mouth to protest.
“Don’t.” Harry interrupted, pointing a warning finger at you.
“I wasn’t going to argue.” You said, faking innocence.
He laughed, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
As Harry carefully slipped out the bed, you reached for his hand before he could get too far. He stopped, looking back at you.
Your fingers curled gently around his. “Thank you.”
He looked at you as if the answer were completely obvious. “As long as you’ll let me,” he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles gently. “I don’t think I’ll get tired of it.”
Then, with a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, he disappeared toward the kitchen. He left you wrapped in the warm sheets beside a sleepy Coco, feeling cared for in a way you never were.
The days passed with agonizing speed. The kind that makes you homesick for a moment ever when you’re still living it, watching it slip through your fingers like sand. You didn’t want it to end. These days were happy; they gave your life meaning again, turning everything, you had experienced into memories that would echo in your mind for years.
Ever since Harry knocked on your door that night, your world had shifted. It was as if your life had been painted over in shades of crimson and gold, like a beach sunset you couldn’t quire define but desperately wanted to look at every single evening. It became something you looked forward to, something so stable and present it was easy to take for granted.
For years your life had been a comfortable, predictable routine under a dull, gray sky. You woke you, worked and went to bed that the fierce, fiery love people wrote about in books was just a myth. Something you would never be able to touch. But this new warmth wrapping around you had become the very reality of your routine, starting every time you looked into the kitchen and found Harry making coffee and quiet.
Your ordinary quiet life flooded with colors, each shifting into your routine.
They were in the pigments of afternoons spent walking along the shore, with Coco sprinting ahead to chase the seagulls. They were the shades of those evenings when the café closed and Harry was already waiting outside, leaning against the wooden railing with his hands in his pockets, his face lighting up the second you stepped through the door.
You were falling.
The was the exact moment you realized it. For the first time in your life, the sky was bleeding into shades of rose and gold, but this time, the brightness didn’t hurt. You were standing right in the middle of your ordinary life, breathless, watching a new world bloom around you.
All because of him.
Because of Harry.
Yes, you were completely falling.
Some days he worked from your house, his laptop balance on the dining table while he kept himself busy with conference calls filling his days. Other days, he abandoned his job because you convinced him the sunset was too beautiful to miss.
He would complain at first, but seeing you smile was enough for him to follow you anyway.
Anywhere.
Always.
As long as you allowed him.
You had found out Harry loved to sing under his breath whenever he cooked and that he had started to love stealing bites from your plate after insisting he wasn’t hungry, shrugging shamelessly every time you shot him a look.
“It tastes better from yours.”
Everything he was, and everything he had done ever since he came to this place, had blended seamlessly into your own.
A few days later, as you walked towards Harry’s house, your phone suddenly rang with a notification.
Harry:
Don’t come for Coco. I’ll bring him to you.
Your eyebrows furrowed. You knew you didn’t have to worry about Coco if he was with him because at this point, they had become thick as thieves.
You:
Is he behaving?
Harry:
What do you mean?He is the best boy ever.
You:
????I have a suspicion this is actually Coco typing.
Harry:
Oh, shut up.
You:
Dog.
Harry:
Go home.
You stepped inside your house as you kept the smile on your face. You walked towards the kitchen, leaving a bouquet of flowers you had bought from the sweet florist selling on your way home and place them on the counter. You were hungry, so you went to the fridge studying at the food inside as if you could develop a new recipe by taking a look of them. You were about to prepare a sandwich with a knock on your door stopped your actions. Followed by your phone ringing.
You frowned, looking at the door as you ran to grab your phone from the table.
“I’m coming!” you shouted, grabbing your phone and pressing it against your ear.
“Just open the door already,” harry spoke through the phone, by the tone you could picture the smile on his face.
At the other side of the door, there was Harry standing there, and in fact wearing that deadly smile on his face.
You unlocked the door and swung it open. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, and your smile froze in pure shock. Harry looked breathtaking, gorgeous, and effortlessly pulling off a classic black suit and tie matching his own. But that wasn’t all; he was also holding Coco. Your small dog looked like a gentleman in a tiny matching tie of his own.
Harry looked down at Coco, then back up at you with a smirk. “Can I take you on a date now? We both dressed up just for you.”
You let out a gasp, hands flying to your mouth.
“What’s all of this?” You asked, your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.
“I’ve been thinking about the perfect moment to ask you out,” he began, smiling timidly at you. “But then, I realized any moment would be perfect as long as you would be there.”
You beamed at his words; your eyes wrinkled. Harry smiled back with the same intensity. You felt your eyes watering as they drifted to Coco in his arms, wagging his tail at you from his position.
You stepped forward, cradling his face in your hands. “Oh my God, my baby.” You exclaimed.
“How did you do this, Harry?”
“Well…he likes me, what can I say?” she laughed, meeting your gaze when you lifted your gaze.
“So?” he wondered, “Would you go out with me?
You straighten up, not breaking your contact with Coco, but looking at Harry deep in the eyes.
“I’ll wait for you at my boring house with a surprise for you and Coco,” he added.
“Right now?” you asked.
“Right now.” He smiled, looking up and down your body, at your white sneakers and the long denim dress you wore. “You can absolutely keep this dress; you look beautiful.”
“No,” you said, smiling at him, “I want to change into a nice dress for you.” You lifted your hand to grab his free one, squeezing it.
“And just so you know, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You confessed, pulling your hand away.
A wide smile broke across his face. “I’ll wait for you, then, darling.”
The moment you stepped through his front door, Harry turned around; the words he wanted to say died on his lips. He eyed you up and down; his gaze burned you. For a fleeting moment, he was left speechless. His lips parted in shock as he couldn’t fully process how stunning you looked. A smile broke across his face, as a faint flush crept up his neck, reaching his cheeks.
He stepped closer; his hand reached for you to rest it on your waist, his thumb swept over your skin above the dress.
“Wow,” he breathed out, his raspy tone sending a shiver down your spine. “You look wonderful.”
“It’s just an old dress,” you teased, looking away from his burning gaze.
“Well, you look breathtaking,” he reassured, a wide smile adorning his face.
Your eyes moved past his figure as he stepped behind away to led you up to the terrace, your breath caught in your throat. He had built a scene straight out of a dream. A dozen of candles flickered along, casting a romantic setting as the light casted on the glass. A few delicate fairy lights hung overhead like stars casting glimmer over the space.
Coco also trotted ahead of you, his tiny bow perfectly in place, while Harry stepped up right behind you, his hands rested on your waist as he leaned down.
“Do you like it?” he whispered in your ear. “I want tonight to be magical for you.”
His breath fanning over the skin of your neck caught your breath. “When…when did you make all of this?” you asked, clearly speechless.
Harry let out a soft chuckle; the sound vibrated on your back as he tightened his hold on your waist. He leaned his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the sky next to you.
“I had a bit of help, I have to admit,” he smiled, his voice warm. “I’ve been planning this since yesterday, and I begged Sophie to help me to set up the fairy lights and candles before you arrived.”
You turned around in his embrace, resting your hands against his chest as you looked up into his brown eyes. “You did all this just for our first date?”
“Just a first date?” He mocked, offended. “You’re not just any first date,” Harry murmured, his expression softened. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You deserve this and more. Tonight is just for us.”
He led you to the middle as soft music played in the background, filling the space that just the waves used to claim. He held out his hand with a smile. You took it without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to his chest as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You swayed together, a slow rhythm beneath the fairy lights. You shifted closer, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“You are a really good dancer,” you teased, looking up at him.
“I have my moments. I want to impress you.” He said, “I’m holding you.”
Instead of words, you just beamed at him as the song died in the background.
Harry led you to the comfortable cushioned area he had built over a blanket on the ground. You sat down close together. You leaned back, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked up at sky. Away from the bright glow of the fairy lights, the stars above shone with intensity. Harry’s fingers intertwined with yours, as his thumb traced his path on the back of your hand.
“I love sitting outside and seeing the stars every night,” you said, lifting the piece of sushi to your lips. “It brings me peace.”
“I believe you,” Harry said, pouring the wine into both of your glasses, “Now you have my company for it.”
You smiled. A quiet wave of happiness washed over you, knowing his words were entirely true and that his presence had truly become part of your daily life.
Harry smiled back at you. He already knew that kind of smile on your face. He was familiar with every single curve in your lips and the thousand words they could speak just by the shape of them. He brought the glass of wine and took a small sip, letting the warmth of it settle in the back of his throat.
“It’s good.”
“It is,” you replied, meeting his gaze from the narrow gap between both of you.
Harry’s eyes dipped down, noticing how your lips glistened from the wine. They looked completely inviting. You tried desperately to focus on the stars above you, praying in silence that he would do the same. You let out a light sigh of relief when Harry looked away from your lips.
But suddenly, you felt his fingertips on your chin, tilting your head up. You yielded when your lips met. Harry kept his hand cupping your face, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed your bottom lip, making you feel you were drowning.
Harry slid one of his hands down your back, pulling you close. Shivers ran down your spine as it arched, chasing the spark of fire Harry had ignited with his touch.
Your bodies blurred into each other, burning just one flame.
Harry caught your bottom lip, feeling the kiss with an agonizing need. You gasped, parting your lips, letting him slide his tongue past your teeth and having the first real taste of you.
You leaned forward, completely out of focus, and melted into all the sensations, sparking with his tongue intertwined with yours and his hands travelling up and down your body, making you crave the friction your body ached to reach. He tasted like the glass of wine you both had shared.
The innocent nature of the kiss grew heated. His hand slid up, interlocking his fingers through the strands of your hair to gently pull your head back.
“You’re a dream,” he whispered, his lips stained by the burgundy from the mix of the wine and kiss.
Your face flushed. Your blood rushed into your cheeks as you felt a sudden, intense heat radiating through every inch of your body.
You leaned forward, capturing his lips in yours once again. You didn’t know if it was because of the wine, but you had become addicted to the taste in them and how they felt over yours. You interlocked your fingers between the curls on his hair, gently pulling him to you until you melted into him.
Harry’s mouth felt warm on yours, as his fingertips sent sparks down your spine all over again as matches striking to light a fire. His lips left a path of heated kisses on your skin down the crook of your neck.
His gaze lifted to take a look at your face, and you tried to move. You pressed your hands against his chest to push him away.
“Harry,” you whimpered, completely breathless.
“Don’t talk now,” he replied, voice vibrating against the skin of your collarbone where his lips pressed down.
A part of you craved him so much it physically hurt. Whatever the spark between both of you was called, you knew you were breaking the rules of it. You shut your eyes, pressing your forehead on the fabric of his white shirt, now stained by the burgundy of your own lips.
The fire burst, and you were willing to get burned.
Harry pulled you closer, his mouth captured your lips in a breathless kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the rest of the world faded away. There was no hesitation left in him now.
Then, a wet nose nudged your elbow. Coco had wandered over from his rug, licking your bare arm and ruining the moment. A breathless laugh escaped your lips, breaking the tension.
“No,” Harry complained against your skin, refusing to let go. He looked down at the dog with a playful scowl. “No, tonight, buddy. She’s mine.”
Those words left you speechless, your heart clenched in your chest.
Harry pulled away, looking at you with lustful eyes you had never seen before. He slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip, biting it gently as he took in the sight of your flushed skin. Standing up without breaking eye contact, he reached down and offered you his hand. You took it without hesitation.
As Harry led you towards his room, the frantic beating of his heart perfectly matched your own.
Harry stopped just before crossing the door of his room. The moonlight mixed with the dim light from the living room made his eyes catch yours with intensity. He held your hands, but he noticed the tremble in your fingers. He tilted his head, searching your eyes.
“Harry…” you whispered, your voice wavering. “Wait. It’s…it’s been a really long time since I’ve been with anyone like this.”
For a moment you feared you might see disappointment in his expression, but Harry’s gaze only softened. He took a step closer, closing the distance until you could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice raspy.
Instead of using words, he let his fingers talk, sliding his hands up from your fingers to your shoulders, gently brushing a strand of hair out of the way. He leaned down and pressed his lips on the curve of your neck. The kiss was slow, firm, and filled with an adoration that took your nerves away. Feeling you relax against him, he trailed a line of soft kisses up your jawline until his lips reached and brushed your ear.
“There’s no rush,” he whispered on your skin; his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “It’s you and me. We’ll go exactly at your pace.”
Those words made every bit of hesitation vanish, replaced by the safety of his hands caressing your skin.
With delicacy, Harry slid the fabric of your dress down your back until it pooled around your feet. As you stood bare before him, his gaze darkened with intense appreciation. He took your hand, pressing your palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart.
“This is what you do to me,” he whispered.
His hands began to travel along your skin, his fingertips tracing every curve of your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, trailed his lips down your cheek, and finally found your mouth once more. The kiss was incredibly soft, so tender that a quiet moan escaped your lips.
Goosebumps rippled across your skin. You felt so drunk on his love that dying in his arms felt like a beautiful fate you could meet, if only he would hold you forever. Time slowed as his hand slid up your stomach. When his fingers brushed your breast, you gasped at the sensation.
He held your hand, his fingers laced through yours as he led you to his bed. The urgency of the kiss grew more desperate as it turned into soft moans escaping your lips. As the back of your knees touched the edge of the mattress, you sat on it. Harry looked at you with an intensity in his eyes you had never seen in there before. Your breath caught in the middle of your throat, his hands moving to cradle your neck with his fingertips.
As your eyes met, the lust consuming you both grew. He looked at you with those longing eyes of a man craving to taste an unusual flavor for the first time. When you held his gaze all the hesitation upon his shoulders lifted because he knew you would stay here with him. He claimed your lips once again; his touch suffocated you as you gasped for air at all the sensations tickling in your skin as his kisses travelled down your neck, sending a rush of adrenaline within you.
In a swift, yet gentle movement, he parted your legs, hovering over you. A low moan escaped your lips, pulling Harry closer, and he sank all his weight on you. He let out a low growl, pinning your wrists above your head as he began to move against you in a slow rhythm that set your skin on fire.
You arched your back in desperation for more friction, so your fingers found their way to his shirt, unbuttoning it with faster movements, refusing to break the kiss. You were desperate to feel his skin against yours; your hand reached for his belt, your finger worked on unbuttoning his pants as his lips seemed hungrier on you. Harry caught his breath as he felt your hand over his cock.
He opened his eyes to look down at you with surprise and absolute devotion in there; his chest rose.
“God,” he whispered, his voice completely raspy as your fingers stroked his cock up and down.
He buried his face back into your neck with desperation. Your breath hitched, and your moans grew heavier as his lips and tongue trailed down your chest, sending a jolt of electricity to your core.
“Oh god, Harry,” you whimpered, arching your back against him, consumed by the sensation.
He pressed more kisses down between your breasts, his mouth lowered with a torturous trail of kisses until it reached your stomach. You let out a soft gasp as his hands gripped your hips to hold you in place. He kept pressing kisses on your skin, his warm breath on your lower stomach, but your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him away.
“Harry, wait. I don’t…I—”
“You don’t want me to taste you?” he asked softly, pausing his actions.”
“I…I just want to feel you inside me tonight,” you confessed, your voice trembled.
You feared you had ruined the moment, but Harry jus nodded, planting a last kiss on your stomach to relax you before sliding back up you body, claiming your lips again. He didn’t make you wait any longer, his eyes locked onto yours. Holding your hips, Harry positioned himself and pushed forward, filling you in slowly. You let out a gasp as your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” he breathed against your lips, his pace still slow but setting the room on fire.
You opened your eyes, meeting his intense darkened gaze as he started to move, sending waves of intense pleasure straight to your core.
Arching your back, you raised your hips to meet his thrusts. You felt desperate to feel all of him in you. Every touch of his fingers on your skin awakened sensations you had long forgotten, setting your entire world on fire.
His ragged moans filled in your ear. “That’s it, baby…you feel so good.”
Harry fastened his thrusts with heavenly deep thrusts. A broken gasp left your lips at the sensation. He pinned your hands up your head, intertwining his fingers with yours. He didn’t let you to rush him anymore. He wanted to give you all of him.
Your body trembled under his weight as the pace fastened and the room filled with moans and sweet.
“Harry, please…don’t stop,” you begged, your eyes blurred as you tried to look up at him as your hips chased the friction.
“I’m not,” he whimpered against your lips as he continued rocking his hips against yours, matching the rhythm with the friction that made you lose your mind.
“Harry, please,” you cried out, your fingers dug on his shoulders as the pleasure coiled down in your stomach.
“Do you want to come baby?” he broke down in a low raspy voice.
He fastened his movement, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you to positioned himself against you as he started to slam into you. You clung to him, fingernails digging into the muscle of his back. All the pleasure coiling together inside you turned into a rush of heat.
Your breath came in ragged breaths as the only sensation left was the friction of his skin against yours.
“Harry, I’m gonna—" you choked out, your vision blurred.
“With me,” he replied, his voice seemed strained.
And with a last deep push against you, a loud, breathless cry left your lips. Your muscles tightened around his cock as he buried himself inside you, letting out a groan against your neck.
There was nothing left but the sound of your ragged breaths filling the room and mixing with the smell of sweet and sloppy sex. Harry collapsed softly on your body, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, still trembling from the aftermath. He stayed buried inside you, letting his cock fill you up with his warmth.
After a few minutes of no speaking, he rolled onto his side, pulling you along with him, so you rested your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist. The skin of his chest was still hot and slick with the sweat from before, but the desperate hunger from before had vanished and turned into vulnerability. He buried his face in your disheveled hair, inhaling your scent and pressing a lingering kiss on your head.
“I—”
“I—”
You both let out a small chuckle, the fear melting.
“You go first,” he said, smiling.
“No, you.”
“Okay,” he accepted. “I…I think I’m falling in love with you in the most stupid way,” he confessed, pressing more kisses to the top of your head.
You froze for a second; your heart skipped a short beat at the confession. Those same tainted words in the back of your mind suddenly turned out into the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.
Your throat tightened. You shifted in his arms, turning your head to meet those brown eyes you had gotten so used to looking into.
A shy smile broke across your lips.
“I’m pretty sure I’m falling for you in that same stupid way.”
A smile broke on Harry’s face. His entire body relaxed under your gaze, and all the doubts melted away because he was meeting the sincerest eyes he had ever had the chance to know. He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck, as if he finally had the world in his arms.
“Please, never break my heart,” he begged, “I don’t want to live a life without you in mine.”
You planted a kiss on his chest, closing your eyes at his words. “I would never do that.” You promised.
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i will shorten somewhere in the ocean to 14 chapters only, so we'll wrap the story sooner and that's it, yay. so if you are still here reading, there are 5 more chapters till the end 😬💐
it would be 20 chapters but i think there is no more point on it but wrap it up already instead of stretching it. To those who are still reading this one, i love you so much and you have my heart because it means the world to me that you had been all this time here 🩷✨🧚🏻♀️
i will shorten somewhere in the ocean to 14 chapters only, so we'll wrap the story sooner and that's it, yay. so if you are still here reading, there are 5 more chapters till the end 😬💐
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