#I feel home amongst chaos.

[sopaprimordialy]

The confession blog is my home. I don't even send things regularly. I just love seeing how human mind works, how opinions are presented in an anonymous context. It fascinates me. Please never stop, guys.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[romaevelizz]

Never let them know your next move˖ ࣪⊹

Summary: them kissing up on you then they do the unspeakable

Characters; bokuto, kuroo, tanaka

Warnings: chaos, cursing, play fighting, kissing, little hot n sweaty. Not proofread! Touchy grabby boys what can I say.. fem!reader

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

BOKUTO

☆ “your being mean baby..” he whined, ko had been loving up on you for the past fifteen minutes. You’ve only been ignoring him because you were working on school work. “I’ll give you attention in a minute ko.” You hummed.

His dramatic sighs causing you to laugh. It wasn’t like you never payed attention to him it just happens to be kniw when wants it the most. Acting like a puppy who’s deprived. He watched his head resting on your shoulder his eyes wondering your fingers that typed on the keyboard.

How could you ignore him he thought, “you hate me..” he muttered his lips kissing your shoulder. “With everything in my body.” You smiled, feeling his lips travel up your shoulder. His large hands squeezing your hips. “Jus’ want you to love on me.. wanna feel you on me..” he whispered, his tone seductive.

You bit your lip a tingle forming in the pit of your stomach “Ko-“

“AHH!” You yelled, feeling the wettest of his tongue like the side of your face. It wasn’t even small teasing he licked the whole side of your face, quickly pushing himself back knowing your were about to fight.

“You’re fucking kidding me” you laughed discarding your lap top going after him, a fat smile on his face as he grabed your arms pining you down. “Koutaro! Let go of me..” you groaned his big arms holding you against him.

“Nope! I’ve got you now!”

KUROO

☆ His eyes watched you as you wondered around your room, your body pacing impatiently. Kuroo had come over as you were cleaning your room, bad timing yes but he wanted to see you. He wanted a danm nap but you just had to be set on cleaning your room. “UGH!! we can clean it later baby! For the love of god come over to me.” He fake cried sprawling out on you bed.

He watched as you rolled your eyes in the mirror of your vanity, you focused going back on organizing the drawers. He huffed pushing off your bed you watched as he walked up behind you.

“Let me finish I don’t even have that much to do..” you whined feeling his cold hands go under your shirt. “Tetsu my parents are home.” He nodded taking in what you said.

His hands cupping your Boobs over your bra fondling them you felt him smile on the nape of your neck, him enjoying himself. Yet when he looked in the mirror you practically ignored him, though the heat radiating of your face spoke other wise. “Just come lay down with me.” He squeezed a bit tighter.

A pleasant little groan leaving your lips caused him to chuckle mischievously. His lips starting kissing your face a small smile appeared on your face as he did so. But the moment was to nice..

“YOU DID NOT!” You yelled the feeling of your boyfriend letting go of you quickly.

Turning around he was laughing, laughing his ass off. He had licked you!

“AHH BABY PLEASE I WAS JUST JOSHING!”he yelled as you ran at him.

A fit of giggles coming from him as you whipped your wet face against his, “no!” He cried out.

“That what you get motherfucker,” you spoke quickly licking him back after.

“What going on?” The sound of your fathers voice spoke, him witnessing you beating your boyfriend your body on top of him.

“Never mind.. I don’t even wanna know..” he groaned.

TANAKA

☆ Let’s be honest you’d kind be used to it with him. But in this case you were not!

You two where out with his family at dinenr his family sitting around you, two talking amongst themselves. Tanaka was not afraid to kiss up on you in front of his family as nervous as it made you he loved doing it. His lips kissing your hand as you told him to stop “Ryu your grandmother is staring at us.” You whined.

His grandma was in fact staring a smile on her face as she watched her grandson love on you, “you’re so beautiful, I can’t keep to myself.” He said his head falling on your shoulder his lips still kissing on your fingers.

He was normaly very lovey dovey on you but there was just this feeling, you knew something was about to happen you could feel it. And it did happen.

Ryu licking the back of you hand. The back of you hand quickly meeting his mouth popping him. “Ryu! Fu- nasty!”

A heavy laugh left him as you beat on him, his family watching in amusement as you beat on him, “Licking me really! And I knew it was gonna happen!” You spoke is a hushed yell.

“Ahh! Please mercy, baby mercy!!” He yelled dramatically falling into his sisters side for protection just for her to gang up on him as-well.

“Please guys I couldn’t help myself.”he spoke putting a fake frown on his face.

[belovedcloud]

A Ride

pairing: DBF! leon kennedy x fem! reader

✎ notes: in love with older Leon so much, especially thinking about him giving you a ride on his bike! sorry for like my 3 week hiatus, important stuff is going on in my life alongside bereavement. :) ALSO, over 1K likes on my older neighbour post thank you so much!

➤ WC: 2.8K

➤ CW: Older Leon, reader is the daughter of Leon's best friend, Leon is in his 40's, reader is early 20's. SMUT. 18+, public sex (nobody is around), pet names, fingering, squirting, mention of going dumb on Leon's cock, p in v, no protection (but he pulls out).

Coming back home for summer break was always exciting for you and your family, moving away meant you had to create new friends. So to finally be reunited with the people you loved the most was refreshing, leaving your academic life behind for a while. Per usual, coming back always meant a little celebration among your family and friends. Did you expect any less? This year would be different, you would be meeting the man you haven't seen for years. Yet it was like there was no break between you two, the comfortable feeling around you both never dissipated.

"Oh honey I'm so glad you got back safe!" Your mother exclaimed, taking the bags from your hands as you arrived back home. Alas, you could relax. Be yourself. Walking into the familiar home, memories from the past year flooding your brain. Seeing your father giving you a goofy grin as he saw you. Pulling you into a big bear hug. Chatting was amongst you three, asking how your studies were - if you were overworking yourself and what not. "I've got the grill on, we're making your favourite." A chuckle erupted from your father's mouth until the doorbell rang. "Oh! People are arriving sweetheart. Go on, go upstairs and get yourself sorted out." A small grin appeared on your mother's face. Obliging to what she said, you jogged up the stairs. That same smell that lingered around the house as you walked into your childhood bedroom. Throwing your bags on the bed, you changed into something more suitable for this occasion.

Going downstairs was chaos. Greeting friends and distant family members, alongside your parent's friends was tiresome. Your social battery was draining out quick - yet you hadn't seen the man you wanted to see. The man you wanted to be here. Laughter echoed throughout the house, clinks of drinks and bubbly talks followed you. You were completely zoned out as your eyes stared out the window - a person you knew appeared. It was him. The 3 knocks on the door dragged you out of your thoughts as your body rushed to the front. Opening the door he stood in front of you, Leon was here. "Hey sweetheart." A lowly chuckle came out of his throat as he opened his arms to you. Without hesitation, you engulfed him into a hug. "Leon! I missed you." Quiet giggles exchanged the both of you as you led him inside. "Where's your dad hm?" His eyes searched around the house, your finger pointing towards your father. "Got a surprise for you." His hand squeezed your arm before he left you - your warmth leaving at the same time as you saw the way his lips move as he spoke to your father.

"So.. is that a yes?" Leon was trying to persuade your dad... With what? Reluctantly, a faint nod came from your father. "Keep her safe you hear?" Seemed like your father was a bit tipsy - he knew Leon would keep you safe. "Don't be stupid." Leon laughed as he walked away from the conversation, smiling at your confused face from your eavesdropping. "Listening in?" His elbow nudged your arm, earning a scoff from you. The playful roll of your eyes made him feel warm, God you were a beautiful woman. The smile that laid on your face or those gorgeous eyes that stared back into his. Was it wrong of him to want you? To want you in indescribable ways. From cute little dates to obscenely lewd thoughts of you with him. The crispiness in your voice snapped him out of his trance as you responded "No... Well, what the hell were you talking about?" Skepticism flooded all over you as your eyes met with Leon's. "Come outside 'nd I'll show you." He took your hand into his, leading you both outside of the front yard. You tried to think of the possible ideas he had, but none came into your head until you saw the vehicle in front of you.

"No fucking way... Your motorcycle?" A gasp elicited out your throat as your head shot at his, pleading for his confirmation. "Yup, wanna go on a ride? Just like how you've always wanted to." A smirk plastered Leon's face as he passed you a helmet, the cold metal conflicting the soft padding in the inside. "How come I gotta wear a helmet?" You groaned seeing Leon get on the bike without one on. You couldn't deny it, he was incredibly attractive. Ever since you were young you saw him in that way. The way his hair flowed when he reared his bike, his concentrated face as he rode out. Everything about him was handsome, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine. "Well, I don't want you getting hurt princess. Was hard enough to persuade your dad y'know?" He chuckled as he extended his arm out to you, signaling to you to get on. "Yeah as if, he was tipsy you liar." A muffled laugh came out of you as the helmet covered you. Gripping on the back of the seat, your hands slowly slid around Leon's waist. An almost silent purr leaving his throat, the tips of your fingers slightly digging into him felt good. "Hold on tight f'me." He commanded as he started it up - suddenly the wheels took off. Screams and giggles rushed out your throat as your eyes tried to stay in line with the surroundings passing by you so quickly.

The dimly lit skies shrouded over the both of you as Leon's chuckles came out of his mouth hearing you giggle, riding into the sunset was a beautiful experience. The clouds creating an ombre effect, illuminating the both of you as the motorcycle passed through dirt roads. Wheels of the motorbike started to die down in speed as Leon swerved into a small secluded area, the red leaves flying past your faces as the bike was mounted on top of the small hill. Leon turned to you, a caring expression on his face. "You okay sweetheart?" Your hands slowly unlatched off him as you wobbled off the motorbike, meekly nodding as you replayed that experience in your head. "Y-Yeah, that was crazy.." You breathed out, seeing Leon get off the motorbike too. His hands slowly approached the helmet on your head, taking it off. His gaze roamed your face, the deep blue eyes boring into yours, a soft smile appearing his lips. "I know you don't really like the crowded house, so I thought to take you out here instead. Pretty night as well." Leon noted as the helmet was discarded somewhere around the bike, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. "Yeah... It's really pretty tonight." A mumble left your throat as your body melted to his touch. A low chuckle left Leon as he guided you to the sequoia tree. The grainy surface of the oak pressed against your back, sitting down on the meadow of grass and daisies beneath you.

A soft sigh abandoned your throat, the scenery in front of you absolutely mesmerizing. A chill ran down your spine as you felt Leon's eyes peering at you. Turning your head, you see him stare at you, his eyes slowly grazing over the whole of you as a soft smile spread across his lips. "You've grown to be a beautiful young woman y'know." The crispiness of his voice contradicted the mellow look he gave you. Your face felt hot, the breeze could not cool it down as you shyly looked down into your lap. Leon's voice was as smooth as honey, your face didn't go unnoticed as he gave a breathy chuckle to your timid expression. "Don't get shy, you know you're attractive." His calloused fingers gently touched her face. Fuck. Those blue eyes looked into yours and your lips parted ever so slightly. Your voice only a mere whisper as you spoke back to him. "I... Why do I feel like this?" You knew why. Deep down in your heart you longed for him. Crave was the better word for your feelings towards Leon. However, him being your dad's best friend really wasn't the best circumstance at this point. The moral thoughts weighed out in your head as you mindlessly stared at him back - it was wrong but it felt so right. Just to feel him embrace and kiss you was all you wanted. Right? Oh, how he wanted you so much more. His hand cupped your cheek as he softly pressed a kiss to your forehead. No. You didn't want the kiss there.

"What's wrong? What do you mean love?" Leon asked as his hand rubbed your shoulder. Gentle strokes of his fingers trying to ease your body. It did the complete opposite. "You make me feel so warm, 'nd.. I dunno?" You sighed out, trying to change the subject. It was embarrassing how he got you in a state of longing. Longing for him and only him. Leon wasn't stupid, he knew what you needed and God so help him he knew he needed it too. "Let me help you feel better sweetheart, I can't have my favourite girl so clueless..." His lips encapsulated yours, a soft mewl elicited out your throat as you kissed him back. You felt so good against him, a groan left his lips as the kiss became more passionate.

Only minutes later were you straddled on him, his lips pressing quick kisses down your neck as Leon's hands wandered all over your body. Mellow mewls leaving both of your throats as you touched each other. You knew this was wrong, it was so wrong. Leon, your dad's best friend, touching you and caressing you in so many ways in one was inexcusable. It felt so right. It felt right to melt into the palms of his hands as his lips slowly pressed against your neck. Leaving small wet kisses, the cold air breezing onto your skin - leaving you to shiver on top of him. "So perfect, so fucking perfect sweetheart." Leon moaned out underneath you, his fingers slowly tugging on the waistband of your pants. "I wanna take these off you, that okay with you?" He purred in your ear, the silkiness of his voice travelling throughout your body. That dull ache you felt within you needing to be satiated answered for you, your head nodding frantically giving Leon all the permission he needs to satisfy you. The swiftness of his fingers as he skillfully pulled down your pants, showing your pretty lace panties. You couldn't help but cover your face with one of your hands, scared of what he was going to say. "Did you wear these for me?" He questioned with a sly smirk on his face. Fuck, he knew how to rile you up inside - your head meekly nodded up and down as you panted a soft "yes". A chuckle could be heard from Leon as he mumbled about you being cute before laying you on the ground. The blades of grass tickling your bare legs.

Leon didn't know how to feel about the situation at hand. How he longed for you was soon to be satiated but was this morally right? However, his body outweighed his mind as he subconsciously slide your panties to the side. Seeing your slick puffy lips shine in front of him granted you a groan from his mouth. The pad of his finger steadily ran up the slit, a breathy moan fleeing your mouth. An ethereal feeling shock-waving through you. Your wetness pulled him in as his fingers shakily pumped in and out of your pussy. You were so pretty for him, the most enchanting woman he had ever saw. How your face scrunched up in pleasure as his eyes flickered from your face to your cunt being pistoned by his two fingers. Velvety moans chanting out of you as you moaned out his name, craving more of him. Leon felt his heart thump heavily in his chest as he held your body, giving you an overwhelming sense of belonging. You belonged to him, your pussy was his.

"L-Leon.." A quiet mewl scratched out of your throat as you felt yourself get close. It was obvious to Leon as well - he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. His thumb snaked up to your bud, a rubbing sensation startled your body into otherworldly pleasure. Your voice echoing throughout his head as you moaned loudly, gushing all over his fingers. As you rode your orgasm out, Leon's eyes stared at your pretty state. You were all disheveled because of him.

He couldn't handle it anymore, he needed you.

Leon needed to make you feel good around his cock. The leathery feel of his belt slowly disappeared as he unbuckled it, removing his jeans alongside it. He took off his jacket, sliding it underneath you. Your mind still felt fuzzy from your previous orgasm but that misty feeling soon left as you felt his tip slowly push into you. A gasp escaping Leon's throat as his fingers pushed into the plushness of your hips. "Fuck.. Sweetheart, you feel so good." He groaned lowly, his voice thick with desire. His gaze raked over your body again, admiring your beauty once more. Taking in your beautiful curves, he thrusted further in. "Oh.. Leon." Was all you could scramble out your lips as he started to move his hips. The view of you was a picture perfect scene to him, making his heart race. Feeling his gaze upon you, your hands covered your face. The embarrassment flooding through your body was soon torn apart as his soft voice whispered in your ear. "Show me that pretty face of yours, please..." He was begging you. Leon yearned to see your features, it was the main reason the position you both in was missionary. Unable to decline him, your hands slowly unraveled from your face. A low groan pierced out of Leon as he looked at you, his thrusts becoming deeper.

"Fuck, I love you. I love you so much." He moaned out as his fingers felt for your clit, rubbing it once more to make you scream. Your head rustled in the meadow of grass, the same pleasure flowing through your body. "I.." You couldn't finish off your sentence as the urge to cum became too strong. The tension in Leon's body slowly dissipated as his hips became melodic with his movement. His gentle embrace on you immediately washed away any guilt that riddled his mind. His voice carried a sultry edge as he stuttered out "Going dumb on my cock sweetheart?". He wasn't wrong, he never was. Your body completely relaxed from his gentle touches which conflicted the deep pounding he was giving you. Whimpers and moans wailed out your throat - oh how he was making you feel so good was mind-blowing. "That's it love, moan for me nice and pretty." He mumbled, his voice deep and seductive, looking at you with ravenous eyes. You felt your orgasm build up again, your voice sputtering out to try and tell Leon. This orgasm felt different, it felt overwhelming. Something that you couldn't hold back at all. He felt you tighten around him so suddenly, pulling him in as you mumbled incoherent phrases. "Leon" "I can't" "Fuck" was all he could decipher as he felt something different. You soaked the base of his cock and the surrounding area around it. It gushed out of you so quick you didn't know what happened. All you knew was that it felt so good, that the way Leon's dick was hitting that spot was increasing in pleasure. Your eyes rolling back as you continued to squirt as Leon sunk into you again. His eyes widened feeling your wetness splat on his skin.

"Did you just? Fuck you're amazing.." He groaned out, pistoning his dick into you as he chased for his own release. The sounds of both of your bodies making clapping noises as he felt his cock throb inside of you. You gasped, feeling the fast pace thrusts as your hands grabbed onto his jacket underneath you. Leon couldn't take it anymore, the contentment coursing through his veins as he pulled out quickly. His cum splattered onto your panties, his head thrown back from the sexual gratification you gave him. Your thighs shaking in return since you lost the feeling of him inside of you.

After a series of soft panting later, you finally mumbled out to him. "I love you too." Leon raised an eyebrow as he buckled his belt, looking back up at you. "You said it, well you said you loved me when you were fucking me." A hushed voice escaped you. Leon's confusion slowly turned into a soft expression as he kissed your forehead. "I do love you." A giggle left your lips as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stumble pricking at you. "So.. what now?" A question that was destined to be answered. "We'll figure that out." He chuckled out. All he knew was that you both loved each other, sexually and romantically.

"Let's get back home, yeah?"

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[astrcmoni]

⊹₊ ⋆ loved by you⋆ ₊⊹

MASTERLIST

synopsis: you come home after a long day out and noticed that your girlfriend seems a little stiff and frustrated, you take it upon yourself to bring her to relaxation…amongst other things.

genre: smut, fluff.

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 6.7k

warnings: cussing, reader!has some tattoos, belly piercing, and acrylics, soft top!reader & soft bottom!billie, fingering (billie receiving), scissoring, talk of cum, finger sucking, tender aftercare.

authors note: y’all i love me some tender aftercare, but let me know what you guys think, it’s my first time writing smut so i hope you enjoy💋

you wrap your fingers around the cool brass of the doorknob, pushing the door open with a gentle shove. bags in hand, you step inside, carrying the weight of a day spent pouring into yourself—a quiet symphony of self-love and solitude. the faint scent of vanilla and cashmere clings to your skin, trailing behind you like a whispered promise of peace. it mingles with the air as you move through the house, slipping off your shoes and setting your belongings carefully aside. a soft hum of satisfaction radiates from your chest, a quiet melody to the much-needed reset you’ve granted yourself.

the house greets you in half-light, bathed in the golden glow of scattered lamps that cast long shadows on the walls. it feels still—almost serene—until your eyes fall on billie, slouched on the couch like a storm waiting to break. her hoodie is tugged halfway over her head, dark fabric cloaking her features, while her fingers dig into her hair as if trying to pull thoughts free. her jaw is clenched, the sharp line of it catching the light, and her knee bounces in a restless rhythm, a tell of untamed energy searching for release.

the soft shuffle of your steps makes her glance up, her stormy gaze meeting yours. for a fleeting moment, the tension in her eyes eases, her guarded walls thinning as if your presence alone could calm the tempest. but just as quickly as it appears, the warmth fades. she exhales sharply, her lips pressed into a tight line, and turns her face away, retreating from the silent comfort you might offer.

“hey,” you call out softly, your voice a gentle ripple in the charged air. concern blooms in your chest, delicate but insistent, as you step further into her storm. “what’s going on?”

she glances up at you, her blue eyes clouded, the usual spark buried beneath layers of frustration and exhaustion. “nothing. it’s fine.” her words are clipped, brittle, a poor disguise for the weight pressing down on her. the sharpness in her tone, the tight set of her jaw, and the rigid line of her shoulders betray her. she’s unraveling, spiraling into the chaos of a day that’s clearly been too much.

you don’t press her. instead, you step quietly into her space, lowering yourself onto the couch beside her. the silence between you is thick but not unwelcome, a moment to let her gather herself. your hand moves instinctively, resting gently on her bouncing knee. the motion is small but deliberate, your thumb brushing slow, steady circles against her skin. her leg stills under your touch, but she doesn’t turn to look at you. her gaze remains fixed ahead, lost somewhere you can’t follow.

“billie,” you murmur, your voice soft and even, like a thread pulling her back to the present. “i need you to breathe.”

at first, she resists, the huff she lets out carrying a faint edge of defiance. but you don’t push. you stay where you are, leaning just close enough for her to feel the quiet, grounding weight of your presence. slowly, like the tide retreating, her breathing begins to shift. the jagged edges smooth out, each inhale and exhale growing steadier, softer. her shoulders, once drawn tight as a bowstring, begin to ease, the tension melting away bit by bit.

you don’t say anything else. you just stay there, your touch and the unspoken comfort you offer doing all the speaking for you.

once she’s calmer, you reach for her hand, the rough, calloused texture of her fingers grounding against the softness of your own. there’s something soothing in the contrast, a silent exchange of warmth and reassurance. you guide her toward your shared room with unhurried steps, the quiet between you filled only by the soft rustle of fabric and the faint rhythm of your breaths.

once inside, you ease her out of her hoodie, the heavy material slipping from her frame to reveal the tautness still lingering in her posture. replacing it with something softer, you move with care, your fingers brushing her skin in fleeting touches, each one meant to chip away at the tension clinging to her. her guard remains up, her body stiff under your hands, but you’re patient.

she sinks onto the bed with a quiet exhale, her movements deliberate and slow. sitting there, she looks up at you, her brown brows drawn together in confusion. the crease between them feels out of place on her face, a mark of the weight she carries, and that’s exactly where you begin.

your right thumb presses gently to the space between her brows, brushing slow circles there. “relax, baby,” you murmur, minding the delicate edge of your french tips as your left hand cups the side of her neck, your palm warm against her skin. her eyes flutter shut, and her brow smooths under your touch, the tension there melting as if coaxed away by your presence.

“you’re always frowning lately,” you whisper, your voice soft, a tender tease woven into your words. the corner of your lips lifts into a light laugh as your thumbs shift, tracing the sides of her temples with gentle precision. her sigh is barely audible, but it reaches you, a sign of the weight beginning to lift.

she lets her head fall forward, resting against the soft curve of your belly, her face buried in the quiet comfort you offer. your hands slide lower, fingertips grazing the base of her neck, exploring the edges of her tension with care. then, almost instinctively, your nails trace the faint, abstract lines of the tattoo peeking out from beneath her shirt. the designs feel alive beneath your touch, and though her body remains still, the small shift of her breathing tells you she’s beginning to let go.

her hands slide to your sides with unspoken intent, her fingers squeezing your skin gently, as if grounding herself in the moment. a soft moan escapes her lips when your fingers find the knot tucked beneath her skin, your touch firm but deliberate as you knead the tension away. her breath hitches, her body subtly leaning further into you.

"that feel better?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, warm and intimate. she nods slowly, her hair brushing against your shirt with each movement, leaving strands untamed and wild. her lips find your stomach in soft, fleeting kisses-her quiet way of saying thank you without words.

your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling her face as you gently lift her head so her gaze meets yours once again. her eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as her hazy eyes lock onto you. her lips, slightly parted, curve into a small, sleepy smile that sends warmth cascading through you. a faint blush dusts her cheeks, soft pink against the cool tones of her skin, as her gaze turns warm and pleading—a silent invitation, a wordless request for more.

your thumbs move instinctively, stroking slow, rhythmic patterns along the base of her throat and the sides of her neck. her skin feels warm under your touch, and you savor the quiet hum she releases, a low sound of surrender. with another soft moan, she reaches for you, her hands finding their place at the back of your neck as she pulls you closer.

her lips meet yours in a tender collision, slightly chapped but desperate, the press of them catching you off guard enough to draw a quiet gasp from your own. the kiss deepens, her lips enveloping yours with a neediness that feels almost fragile. her tongue swipes along the curve of your lower lip, tasting the sticky sweetness of your gloss. a faint but familiar flavor of honey and vanilla lingers, and she lets out a contented sigh as the taste floods her senses. it's intoxicating—her favorite indulgence—and in typical fashion, she chases it, unable to get enough of you.

breaking the kiss, you pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. a delicate string of mixed saliva lingered between your lips, glistening in the low light like an invisible thread, refusing to sever the connection between you. still slightly hunched over her, you gently guided her onto her back, her body sinking into the bed as you crawled over her, the soft weight of your presence making her exhale deeply.

you leaned down, pressing light, lingering kisses along the curve of her cheek, trailing them down to the delicate slope of her collarbone. the gold chain of your necklace swayed with your movements, the small diamond 'B' charm—her initial—dancing above her skin, catching the faint light in its tiny movements.

her hands reached up instinctively, fingers curling around your necklace as though grounding herself in its presence. the cool metal of her own chains slid across her collarbones, clinking softly as they shifted to the side. her grip tugged you closer, and she kissed you again—deeper, slower this time, the desperation tempered by a quiet intimacy.

she was the one to break the kiss this time, her lips parting from yours as she dipped her head into the curve of your neck. her kisses were deliberate but messy, open-mouthed and soft, scattering heat along your skin. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, delight unfurling in your chest.

but when her lips lingered too long, you gently cupped her jaw, easing her away from your neck with soft insistence. her gaze found yours, her spent, half-lidded eyes searching yours for clarity, a flicker of confusion flashing across her features. you silenced her silent question with a kiss—light and tender, a reassurance of your closeness. her shoulders relaxed beneath you as she melted further into the moment, trusting your pace completely.

"let me take care of you for once," you whisper, your voice a quiet blend of confidence and tenderness. she doesn't argue. instead, she sinks further into the bed, letting her body surrender to your featherlight kisses and gentle caresses, her breaths coming slow and steady beneath your touch.

you start at her stomach, planting soft kisses along her skin, your lips brushing over the smooth, warm surface as you slowly lift her shirt. the fabric gathers in your hands, revealing more of her as you work your way upward, your mouth leaving a trail of heat along her abdomen and up to her chest.

her hands find their way to you, slipping beneath your own shirt. the chill of her rings grazes your skin, stark against your warmth, sending shivers coursing down your spine. her fingers move deliberately, seeking out the band of your bra. when she finds it, she tugs on the strap with a low whine, her silent plea clear in the way she pulls, urging you to shed another layer.

you pause, meeting her gaze for a moment before sitting up to grant her request. your movements are slow, deliberate, as you pull your shirt over your head, letting the soft fabric fall to the side. you're left in your black bra, its cups dusted with subtle, shimmering gems that catch the faint light like tiny stars. the diamond—encrusted clasp at the front glints as it rests against your sternum, adding an almost regal touch to the simplicity of your look.

your golden necklace settles against your chest, the 'B' charm now still against your skin, a quiet symbol of the intimacy you share. the faint contrast between your bra and the black sweatpants you still wear from earlier makes you feel both casual and vulnerable, a quiet kind of beauty that seems to captivate her. her eyes trace over you with a mix of admiration and hunger, and though her lips remain parted in silence, her body speaks volumes in the way her hands move instinctively to pull you closer again.

her eyes flickered to the fresh ink adorning your right side, the design still vivid against your skin. curiosity flashed across her features, but before she could fully register the image, your lips were back on her stomach, trailing heat along her sternum. your fingers moved deftly, slipping up to cup her right breast through the fabric of her bra, your touch firm yet deliberate. the faint graze of your belly ring against hers drew a sharp intake of breath from her, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating between you.

her hands returned to your sides, her grip tightening as her fingers sank into your skin, eliciting a slight furrow of your brows at the intensity, still, you didn't pause. instead, your hands moved to the hem of her shirt, easing it up and over her head, the fabric sliding away to reveal her bare shoulders. her hair spilled messily onto the pillow beneath her as your fingers worked quickly at the clasp of her bra, the tension snapping free with a practiced ease.

with the last barrier gone, you leaned back into her, your lips finding hers in a kiss that was slower this time, more deliberate. her hand slid up to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, her fingers tugging just enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. her other hand rested on your hip, pulling you closer as though the space between you was unbearable.

your knees pressed into the bedding for balance, the soft mattress sinking under your weight as you tried not to topple onto her completely. the thought of it—of gracelessly falling and squishing her-flashed through your mind, and an involuntary giggle slipped past your lips. the sound broke the moment just enough to lighten the air, the vibration of your laugh brushing against her lips.

the corner of her mouth quirked up in response, and a faint moan escaped her, the sound low and rough as if pulled from the deepest part of her. her hands tightened their grip on you, her body arching slightly, and you could feel the soft hum of amusement mixing with the heat between you. it was intimate, raw, and completely her—a moment where even the smallest things felt like a quiet kind of magic.

you refocus, your gaze drifting to her chest before leaning down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses around her left areola. the heat of your breath lingers on her skin, and her body reacts with a subtle arch beneath you. finally, your lips close around her nipple, your tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles over the pink bud. her taste is faintly salty, her skin warm as it yields under your mouth.

your free hand moves to her right breast, fingers molding over the soft curve as you begin to gently roll her other nipple between your fingertips. the contrast of sensations—the warmth of your mouth and the coolness of your touch—draws a shaky sigh from her lips.

"mm-fuck," she breathes, her voice low and rough as her head falls back against the pillow. her neck stretches, exposing the delicate line of her throat, her body surrendering fully beneath you. the sound of her voice sends a rush of warmth through you, and you can't help but smile against her skin.

you switch sides, your lips finding her other nipple as you repeat your actions, tongue flicking and swirling with the same deliberate care. the soft, wet sounds of your movements fill the quiet, her breath hitching with each flick of your tongue.

when you finally let go, it's with a light, teasing pop, the faint suction leaving her skin glistening. your lips curve into a smile as you glance up at her, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, her lashes fluttering as she blinks hazily down at you. there's something intoxicating about seeing her like this— completely undone, her vulnerability offered to you with quiet trust.

lifting yourself up slightly, you shift your focus lower, your lips trailing a delicate path back down her stomach. your fingertips follow close behind, the tips of your nails ghosting over her skin as they trace lazy figure eights along her abdomen. her muscles tense and quiver under your touch, a subtle but telling reaction to the sensations you're leaving in your wake.

as you reach the waistband of her grey sweatpants, your hands settle on either side of her hips. your thumbs begin to draw slow, teasing circles on her pelvic bones, the pressure just light enough to make her body squirm. her breath hitches, and the quiet desperation in her movements only draws a soft smile from your lips.

"please," she whispers, the word so faint it's almost lost in the shallow rise and fall of her chest. but you catch it—her voice trembling with raw need, vulnerability spilling out in that single syllable.

"hm?" you hum softly, your tone low and teasing as your eyes flick upward to meet hers. your eyebrows arch in playful curiosity, your movements never faltering as your thumbs continue their lazy strokes. her blue eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and pleading, the kind of gaze that could bring you to your knees if you weren't already so close.

you tilt your head slightly, your lips curling into a faint smirk as if to say, you're going to have to say that again. her chest rises sharply, her mouth opening, but no words come out-just another shaky exhale as her hands clutch the bedding beneath her. the tension in the air between you feels electric, her silent plea only making you take your time, savoring every second of her unraveling.

"please, please. i-i need you," she stammers, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush, her usual confidence completely stripped away. the rawness in her voice stirs something deep inside you, a thrill at the vulnerability she's offering. her cheeks are flushed, the soft pink hue spreading across her skin, and her eyes are wide, pupils blown with need, the blue of her irises almost swallowed by the intensity of her desire.

you know your teasing is torture for her, and the thought only excites you more. her body reacts instinctively, hips arching up into yours in a desperate attempt to create some friction. but you're prepared for it. without missing a beat, your palm moves to her hip bone, pushing her gently but firmly back down onto the bed, holding her in place. the contrast of her warm skin against your hand sends a thrill through you, the subtle pressure making her whimper beneath you.

her breath quickens, and for a moment, the air between you is thick with tension. she looks up at you, eyes heavy and pleading, her chest heaving with each shallow breath. you can see the fight in her—the way her body yearns for more, yet she remains completely at your mercy. And, for the moment, you intend to savor every second of it.

“my baby wants me here?” you taunt as you cup her cunt, rubbing her slightly through the material of her sweatpants.

“yes, please..." she breathes out with need, her voice trembling, chest rising and falling erratically under your touch. the sound of her desperation echoes in your ears, and it stirs something deep within you.

you can feel the intensity building between you, and as much as you've enjoyed the teasing, you decide it's time to stop. with a slow, deliberate motion, you untie the string of her sweatpants, fingers brushing the soft fabric as you slide them down her plush thighs, savoring the curve of her skin under your touch.

not bothering to remove her panties entirely, you simply shift them to the side, your fingers grazing over the delicate lace as you expose her. the soft warmth of her sex meets the cool air, a delicate shiver running through her body at the sudden change. she lets out a sharp gasp, her back arching slightly as the coolness of the air kisses her skin, her body reacting instantly to the touch.

"look at that," you coo softly, your voice a low hum of satisfaction as you slide your left middle finger down her slit, coating it with her essence. the warmth and wetness of her response leaves you feeling a rush of anticipation, each movement slow and deliberate, savoring every second.

"oh-god," she breathes, sucking in a sharp breath as her eyes flutter, hazy with desire. she watches you through half-lidded eyes, her gaze fixed on your every movement, her chest rising and falling with shallow, erratic breaths. the sight of you biting your lip, the concentration in your expression, seems to send a shiver down her spine.

your finger moves languidly, tracing her slit with unhurried precision, the subtle pressure and teasing rhythm making her hips twitch slightly in response. each brush against her sensitive skin is calculated, drawing out her reactions, leaving her a little more undone with every passing second.

"my baby's so wet for me." you whisper, your voice thick with desire. she nods in agreement, her breath shallow and quick.

"yes, so wet just for you. my god, please," she pleads, the words slipping from her lips with a sense of urgency.

and you obliged, slowly entering your index into her, being mindful to not poke her. you take a slow, deliberate moment, allowing her to adjust to your touch. the atmosphere between you crackles with tension as you fingered her while your thumb rubbed against her clit simultaneously. every movement measured, every breath shared. your fingers trace a gentle path, mindful and careful, as you draw closer to the feeling of complete connection.

"mmm-you're so sensitive, my love," you whisper softly, the words leaving your lips like a caress, your voice thick with satisfaction. her hands find their way back into the roots of your hair, fingers threading through the strands, pulling you closer as her grip tightens, a silent plea for more.

you quicken your movements in response, white rings of her cum forming around your fingers as you continue. your fingers pressing into her with a steadier rhythm, each stroke drawing a louder gasp from her lips. her breath comes in shallow, uneven bursts, her voice a tangled mess of words and moans, a symphony of pleasure that mixes with the desperation in her tone. each sound she makes only drives you further, urging you to keep going, to bring her closer to the edge.

bucking her hips into your fingers, she lets out a soft whine, the sound trembling in the air as your movements begin to slow, the shift in rhythm intensifying her frustration. her body is aching, needy, and she craves more, her fingers still tangled in your hair as she pulls you closer, urging you to keep going.

"please, don't stop—please," she pleads, her voice breaking with desperation, the words escaping in a breathless rush. her eyes are wide and pleading, filled with a raw vulnerability that pulls at something deep inside you. she's unraveling beneath your touch, and she can't seem to hold herself together any longer.

"i'm not, baby, just wait," you console, your voice gentle but firm as you slowly withdraw your fingers from her.

she watches you with spent eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. you take a moment to untie the string of your sweatpants, the fabric slipping down your hips as you shimmy them off, leaving yourself in nothing but a pair of black panties. the movement gives her a better view of your new tattoo, a pair of delicate hummingbirds perched around a cherry blossom tree. the ink swirls across your skin, the rest disappearing into your back in an intricate design.

her fingers reach for the fresh ink, the cool touch of her rings against your skin sending a soft shiver through you. you gasp quietly as she traces the delicate lines of your tattoo, her touch both tender and reverent.

"pretty." she whispers, the word slipping from her lips like a quiet reverence, her gaze lingering on the fresh ink as if she were memorizing every detail.

you lean down to kiss her once more, her lips swollen and red, still slightly parted from the intensity of your previous kisses. the taste of her lingers on your tongue as you move, savoring the way her breath catches against your lips.

your fingers move with purpose, slipping under the waistband of her panties, the fabric soft against your fingertips as you slowly slide them off, exposing her to you fully. you do the same for yourself, sliding your own panties down, the fabric brushing against your skin before they're discarded onto the floor.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you align yourself with her, your body hovering just above hers, a breath away from the contact both of you are craving. the air between you is thick with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as you pause, just for a moment, to savor the closeness.

both of you breathed out a moan as you rubbed your pussy against hers, her cum sliding on your skin while you grinded on her slowly.

her hands rest on your waist, fingers digging lightly into your back as her hips buck up to meet yours, the throbbing pressure between you intensifying, desperate for more friction. the heat between your bodies is palpable, and her urgency makes your pulse race.

reaching down, your fingers gently grip the side of her neck, your thumb brushing lightly back and forth over her lip. she opens her mouth, eager, and latches onto your thumb, her movements slow at first, then gradually faster, bobbing her head up and down as she tastes you. her tongue swirls around your skin, the roughness of it contrasting sharply with the smooth glide of your acrylic nails, sending a shiver through you.

she lets go with a soft plop, her lips lingering against your thumb before it returns to rest against her lip, her eyes heavy with desire, a silent invitation for more.

you grazed your finger over her pink lips, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, before you gently turned her head to the right. the body mirror on the wall caught your eye, framed in sleek black, reflecting every intimate detail. you could see everything—the way her body reacted to your touch, the slight tremble in her breath, the hunger in her eyes.

"fuck—look at my pretty baby. you're so beautiful when you're not overthinking," you murmur, brushing your thumb tenderly over her jaw, your voice thick with admiration and desire.

sure, you'd fucked in front of mirrors before, the reflections always a part of the experience, but this time it was different. this time, she was beneath you, her body writhing with pleasure, and you couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. every movement, every subtle shift of her body, only made you love her more. you were lost in the moment, savoring every second of this connection, this intimacy, this power dynamic.

billie watched the both of you in the mirror, her hands resting on your thighs, both of your tattoos visible as you moved over her. your belly piercing swayed with each movement, the delicate clink of your bracelet, necklace, and anklets adding a soft rhythm to the moment. the sight of you above her, being so tender, so focused on her, was enough for billie to release the tension she'd been holding.

“ma, i’m gonna—” she hiccuped out as she orgasmed, her cum hot and warm as she released her built up pressure.

"i know, baby, i know." you coo softly, your voice low and soothing, as your hands find hers. the cool band of your promise ring clinks gently against her own, a quiet reminder of the bond between you. you keep your rhythm steady, guiding her through the waves of her release, feeling her pulse beneath your touch as you hover on the edge of your own. the tension in your body builds, the electric connection between you both drawing closer to its peak.

your movements come to a slow halt as you lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her head, before trailing light, almost reverent kisses along her flushed cheek. with a contented sigh, billie collapses fully into the sheets, her body surrendering to the moment as her eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of your presence, the lingering touch of you on her skin.

as billie's breathing evens out, soft and steady, you gently shift your weight, easing off of her. her hands fall limp at her sides, the faint tremor of the moment still lingering in her fingers. you take one of her hands in yours, brushing your lips softly over her palm, savoring the quiet intimacy between you. her eyes slowly flutter open, the exhaustion from her release softening her features. a slow, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she gazes up at you, her expression a mix of peace and satisfaction, as if the world beyond the two of you has faded into a distant hum.

“don’t move,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. she nods, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion as she watches you, too tired to protest. you lean over, gently tucking a blanket from behind her over her body, picking up her oversized t-shirt from earlier and tugging it onto your body—leaving her bare beneath the cool blanket, before slipping into the connecting bathroom.

the bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a calming ambiance as you move with quiet intention. you plug the bath drain, the gentle sound of water beginning to fill the basin, creating a peaceful rhythm in the otherwise still air.

reaching under the sink, your fingers brushed against the cool glass bottle of lavender epsom salt. with a soft sigh, you unscrew the cap and sprinkle it generously into the tub, watching as the grains dissolve, leaving a faint shimmer in the water, releasing their calming scent.

you then grab a handful of delicate lavender flower petals, their purple hue soft and delicate, letting them slip from your fingers as you scatter them over the surface of the water, the soft fragrance mixing with the warm steam in the air. next, you reach for a bottle of soap, squeezing a generous amount into the growing pool, and watch as the water turns a soft, inviting shade of milky white. you swirl your hand in the water, stirring it gently, creating soft bubbles that float lazily to the surface, the scent of lavender and vanilla hanging in the air, blending perfectly with the warmth that’s beginning to envelope the room.

reaching into a drawer, your fingers graze the familiar coolness of the lighter, the flickering flame catching the night’s stillness. you carefully light a few candles, setting them on the smooth, black marble base of the bathtub. their gentle glow dances in the dim room, casting soft shadows that seem to whisper secrets. the warm scent of vanilla rises in the air, mingling with the calming lavender, creating a quiet, tranquil atmosphere. with a contented breath, you turn back towards the door, ready to return to her.

when you return to the bedroom, she’s just where you left her—curled beneath the sheets, the rhythm of her breathing slow and steady, a soft lullaby that pulls at your heart. “billie…” you murmur, your voice a tender thread that weaves through the silence. your fingertips trace shapes across her cheek, the touch delicate, coaxing her from the realm of dreams.

“hmm?” her voice is soft, dreamy, as if the weight of sleep lingers in her words.

“come on, love, time to get cleaned up,” you whisper, your eyes finding hers. her blue gaze flickers open, the haze of sleep softening into a warm, sleepy smile at the sight of you. she meets your eyes with a quiet, trusting warmth, her features bathed in the soft glow of the candles.

she hums, barely audible, ���okay,” her voice a sigh of surrender, her body pliant as you gently guide her up. there’s no resistance, only a quiet trust as you lead her towards the bathroom, her steps slow and uncertain, but still, she follows. the warmth you’ve prepared beckons, and she lets you carry her there, one step at a time, beneath the soft weight of the night.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” she whispers, her voice soft and hoarse, a trace of vulnerability lacing her words as you gently sit her in the tub, the warmth of the water surrounding her like a soft embrace.

you smile, the touch of your thumb against her cheek tender, as if trying to soothe away every ounce of weariness. “yes, i did. you deserve it,” you murmur, your words a quiet promise. reaching for a black hair tie, you gather her hair into a loose bun, fingers brushing the strands with care. you press a gentle kiss to her forehead before you step away.

you move quickly, the rhythm of the evening pulling you in its quiet flow. downstairs, you wash your hands, then start the water for pasta, the soft hiss of it filling the silence. you make your way to the linen closet, pulling out fresh sheets and a soft comforter, the fabric cool against your fingers. replacing the old with the new, the bed now seems like an invitation, waiting.

you dig through your drawers, gathering pajamas for both of you, and return to the bathroom, where she sits waiting for you. her eyes follow your movements, a small smile curving her lips as you shed your shirt, your skin exposed to the dim light. she shifts, making room for you behind her, her fingers absently playing with the delicate purple petals floating in the water.

the candlelight dances around her, casting a soft glow across her face, and for a moment, she looks like something from a dream—beautiful, ethereal, a goddess bathed in warmth. everything in this quiet moment feels like it has slowed to match the rhythm of your heart, and you’re grateful for the stillness, for her.

as you settle into the warmth of the bath, billie leans back, her head gently resting against your chest, the two of you melting together in the soft embrace of the water. your legs, tangled beneath the surface, form a quiet connection, grounded in the silence between you. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are the soft crackle of the candle flames, a steady whisper in the room, and the occasional ripple of water as your feet shift, the delicate sound of your anklets grazing against the porcelain tub.

you let your fingers wander, tracing light patterns along her arms, the movements slow and tender, as if giving her space to breathe, to gather her thoughts. patience is something you’ve always had for her—something she’s always admired. even in the tense, unspoken moments, you remain still, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready.

after some time, she sighs, a soft exhale of air that carries the weight of everything unspoken. her voice, when it comes, is quiet but steady, the vulnerability in it a tenderness that wraps around you. “it’s not just the project,” she confesses, her words fragile but honest. “i feel like i’m always trying to prove myself, like no matter what i do, it’s never enough. and then i think about what people expect from me, and it’s just… a lot.”

her voice fades softly, her heart laid bare, and in that silence, you hold her, letting her feel your steady presence as she breathes through the weight of her words.

you hum softly, the sound a gentle lullaby, and press a kiss to her temple, a moment of quiet connection between you both. with a tender motion, your left arm drapes over her, and she nestles into it, resting her head on your forearm. her fingers graze your skin, tracing the delicate cursive lines of the tattoo that wraps around it, each stroke of her touch like an intimate conversation between her and the ink.

“i get it,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing, a soft breath against the stillness of the room. “you’ve got so much on your shoulders, but you are enough. i don’t ever want you to think otherwise. but i need you to know—you don’t have to carry it all alone. i’m here, okay? whenever you need me, just let me know.”

she nods, a small, quiet movement, and her legs shift, resting gently over yours beneath the water. her fingers curl around yours, pulling them into her touch, tracing the new french tips on your nails with a delicate reverence. “i know. and i don’t say it enough, but… i’m really grateful for you. for this. i don’t think i could get through half of this without you.”

her words flutter around your heart, soft and tender, and something inside you swells—something warm and full, as though the weight of everything between you is lightened in that moment. you pull her closer, holding her a little tighter, as if to make sure she knows that, in this world, she is never alone.

as the water cools, you gently lift her from the tub, your hands moving with the same tenderness that has defined the night. wrapping her in a soft towel, you dry her skin, each motion slow, careful—treating her like something precious, like a secret only you know. the faint scent of lavender lingers on her skin as you moisturize her body, the warmth of your hands gliding over her, bringing her back to the moment.

with a soft hum, you dress her in the fresh pajamas you’d brought in earlier, each fabric fold smoothing over her skin like an act of quiet love. reaching for a brush, you run it through her damp hair, each stroke almost meditative, before weaving it into two neat french braids, the rhythm of your fingers threading through her hair like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

once you’ve dressed yourself, you lead her downstairs, her hand finding yours as you move. at the kitchen island, she sits, watching you with soft eyes as you finish preparing dinner. the soft clink of utensils and the rhythmic chop of vegetables fills the space, but the most prominent sound is the ease of your conversation, light and easy, as you tell her about your day—about the small moments, the little victories, and the quiet things that mattered. she listens, her gaze never leaving you, her hands folded in her lap, tracing the soft lines of your self-care routine with a quiet reverence.

when dinner is ready, you turn off the stove, and with a practiced hand, plate the pasta, the steam rising like a promise. you sprinkle it with cheese before presenting it to her with a quiet smile. you settle into the chair next to hers, a chuckle slipping from your lips as she pulls the leg of your chair closer to her own, the movement playful, the connection simple, but full of a thousand unspoken words. the evening, now wrapped in warmth, feels like the calm after a storm—everything settled, everything right.

billie curls into your side, her body fitting against yours like it was always meant to be this way. her head rests gently on your chest, the soft rhythm of your heartbeat the only sound that matters as she takes small bites of her food, the warmth of her breath mingling with the quiet hum of the evening. “you really take care of me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsiness, each word a delicate confession.

you smile, a tender curve of your lips, and trace gentle lines up her side with your fingers, the motion almost hypnotic. “and i always will. you’ve got nothing to worry about tonight.”

a contented sigh escapes her, and she sinks even deeper into your embrace, the weight of her body relaxing against you, her warmth becoming a part of you. she feels the truth of your words settle within her, like a quiet promise. she loves you, and in loving you, she has found something so rare and precious—something she never wants to lose. being loved by you is the safest place she’s ever known.

in this moment, she understands something profound: that no matter the distance or the storm, you’ll always find your way back to each other. and just as surely, she knows she’ll always be there for you, too.

astrc’s tag list: hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! Could you write a fluff of Viktor and the reader having a chill day in his lab, just casual romantics? :)

Viktor had an unhealthy habit of overworking himself to the point where he can barely stand upright, only for the wave of fatigue caught up to him, forcing him to sit back down and attempt to will the feeling of uttermost weakness away before he went back to work as though he wasn’t constantly on the verge of passing out every second.

However there was a bright light in all this; you. Viktor might be awkward in the romance aspect of things but he he knew and valued how important you were to him, and sometime he found himself staring at the door of his lab; waiting for you to walk through it like you always did. Almost as if you knew he needed your presence as you nursed a cup of coffee between your hands made specially for him and only him. It warmed his heart at your considerate and sweet nature that it only made the doubt within his mind double as he wonders whether you’ll stay as long as you promised, much like how you promised him that you’d stay by his side when he first voiced these concerns to you late one night together.

However those thoughts were pushed aside when he saw the door open from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching in a fond smile as he watched you walk through, nursing a cup of coffee as per usual as you smiled that sweet and tender smile towards him. ‘Hey sweetie.’ You greeted him with a kiss to his temple, making Viktor lean into your lips and engrossing himself in the feeling a familiar warmth spread throughout his chest brought forth as he soaked in your affection through your kiss, as though he was reminding himself of your love for him.

‘Hello my dear.’ Viktor greeted back as he took the coffee from you and setting it aside before reaching for your hand, just as he then pressed a soft kiss to the back of it in appreciation. ‘Come to join me?’ He adds and innocently gestures to the chair he intentionally placed beside him, which made you chuckle at how well he knew you to the point he knew that you’ll always say yes to staying with him while he worked. You raised an eyebrow at him ‘is that an invitation or an instance for me to keep you company?’ You teased as you sat in the chair regardless.

‘It’s common courtesy after all the times you came into my lab, unannounced and making yourself at home.’ Viktor retorts playfully as he watched you pout and cross your arms over your chest. You looked beautiful and adorable when you did that and Viktor couldn’t help but thank you for bringing life and light into his rather dull life. He couldn’t help but live in this moment forever with no worries, no heavy load of work that left him with little to no time with you unless it was to sleep in your shared bed at night, he just wanted to shower you in the same warmth and affection that you had given to him unprovoked.

‘I’m just making sure you’re in good company.’ You defended yourself as Viktor only looked at you with an eyebrow raised, his beautiful eyes which were the colour of whiskey, looking right through you like they always did. You sighed, knowing you could never lie to him. ‘That and make sure you haven’t passed out due to constantly overworking yourself to near death.’ You add as you rest your head gently on Viktor’s shoulder, feeling his tense for a brief moment before relaxing the next as he gingerly rest his head atop of yours, letting out a deep sigh as he melted against you.

‘And I appreciate you for doing so,’ Viktor began as he grabbed your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as his thumb stroked against yours, ‘I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you being my rock, my sense of reason and my peace amongst the chaos.’ He adds as you both sat in relative peace, drinking in the other in without the need to say anything, for the other’s presence was enough to bring calm and quiet to your unified heart and souls that beat in tandem with one another.

‘I’ll gladly continue to do so for as long as you’ll need me.’ You said genuinely.

‘Then I think I’ll always need you.’ Viktor replied without an ounce of hesitation.

You smiled as you kiss his cheek. ‘Then by your side I shall stay because I love you and if i have to show you how much I love you by coming here and making sure you are taking care of yourself, then I’ll gladly do so everyday for the rest of our lives.’ Viktor chuckled softly as he felt tears well up in his eyes at your declaration, moving his head so it was buried in the side of yours as he pressed a few kisses to your temple. ‘Thank you.’ He whispered. ‘Thank you so much for loving me.’

You squeeze his hand. ‘It comes to me as easy as breathing.’ You tell him, wanting to be nowhere else but by his side.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead 🤪 Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?” 

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected. 

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you. 

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.” 

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown. 

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek. 

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.” 

“You sure?” 

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.” 

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish. 

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief. 

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?” 

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin. 

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition. 

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. 

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants. 

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth. 

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit. 

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there. 

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet. 

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter. 

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him. 

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin. 

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils. 

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started. 

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl. 

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache. 

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be. 

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought. 

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer. 

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life. 

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap. 

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss. 

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length. 

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you. 

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt. 

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. 

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. 

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs. 

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal. 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone. 

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.” 

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you. 

 “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite. 

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together. 

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.” 

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter. 

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest. 

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.” 

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze. 

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours. 

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[novemberheart]

{overview} Just because your pack is back together doesn’t mean things are back to normal

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly141, cursing, mentions of being scared, smoking, short chapter

Chapter 30 <- Chapter 31 -> Chapter 32

“Hi, Ms. Garrick,” you greeted. You heard her chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“Well hello, lovely,” she greeted back. You smiled at the similarities between their pet names for you. She had gotten your number from John after Kyles accident. She called you leaving the kindest message in your inbox.

Hello, Sweetheart. Now you don't know me, but my name is Rosalind Garrick, Kyle’s mother. But don't think that just because you don't know me, I know nothing about you. You’re all Kyle talks about anymore and I’m just so happy he's finally able to get some peace amongst his chaos. I know how hard this all must be for you so if you ever need anyone to talk to please reach out to me. As far as I'm concerned you’re a part of our pack and we want to make sure you are taken care of.

Alright, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.

Since then you've called her every few days, mostly to give her updates about Kyle.

“How’s our beta doing?” she asked.

“He’s been doing good. Started to get up and walk with crutches. He's stubborn and restless,” you grumbled. As if on cue, the beta trudged out of his room, heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s the man I know,” she chuckled.

“Hey, mum,” Kyle greeted from the kitchen. You bounded over, hoisting yourself up onto the counter.

“The next time you all go on leave I want you to come home,” She pressed. You grinned wickedly, agreeing before the words had even reached Kyle’s ears. “I’ve only met Johnny. Now it’s a crime I haven't met your alphas yet, and I'm not going to let you get away with me not meeting your omega. In-person,” she added.

“Sounds right to me,” you agreed. That's why she loved you.

“You’ll love the city. Did Kyle tell you about all the museums? I know you love those.”

Kyle did tell her about you.

“We can work that out,” Kyle agreed. He did want to go home, and he desperately wanted to share that part of himself with you. You and Ms. Garrick both squealed excitedly.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you asked. He stiffened immediately, his mind jumping to the worst.

Had he hurt you again?

Your hands smoothed over his shoulder, your bottom resting against his knee. His relax was instantaneous. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours.

“I was wondering if I could get a job?” you said slowly. It wasn't slow enough with the way the wheels in his mind were turning.

“Why? Something you need? It’s my job”-

“No, nothing like that. It’s more social than anything.” you interjected. “I’ll be with Anais and Jane. It’s at a new bakery a little off base. It's just a few hours on Fridays and the weekend,” you explained.

He wanted to shut it down. You were social enough. Before Kyle was hurt you had activities nearly every day. Sometimes it felt like you did more in a day than they did.

Yet the look in your eyes halted him. You had forgiven him- he could feel it. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you after just making up.

“Alright,” he agreed. You gasped softly, a wide grin spreading over your face. It made him happy despite the feeling of something wrong clawing at him.

“Thank you!” you cheered, your lips colliding with his cheek.

“One of us will take you to work the first week. Then you girls can commute together. And you are never to go off on your own, you understand?” he urged. You hummed against his cheek. “And I need to meet your boss- and anyone else who’s working there,” he added, between your attacks.

You were just about to head to your room, when a strong arm wrapped around your middle. You recognized a familiar tattoo.

“Tavy,” you giggled. He said nothing, heading to his room.

“Seems like you've forgotten it’s my night, bonbon,” he teased, tossing you on his bed. He crawled over you, making you flush.

“I could never forget,” you lied, blinking up at him. He smirked down at you, completely still for a moment before pressing rapid-fire kisses against your cheek.

You squealed as his hands tickled up and down your sides.

“Mac, no!” you gasped out. “I was just getting tired,” you whined against him. He paused, his smirk pressing against yours.

“Alright, peaches,” he agreed. He wrapped an arm tightly around you, purring softly as you buried your face in his chest. Cinnamon mixed with some of your vanilla lotion he had stolen.

“Simon comes home tomorrow,” you sighed happily. Johnny hummed, a pleased rumble leaving his throat. “I thought you and John would be gone longer,” you yawned.

“So did we,” he yawned back. He said nothing more on the topic, yet you didn't expect him to.

When you woke up you were no longer trapped between him and the bed, but him and another body. Leather with an undertone of black licorice. There was more smoke in his scent than you were used to. He must have been smoking a lot. A purr vibrated through you, making his chestnut eyes flutter open.

“What’re you purring about?” Simon groaned, pushing the two of you closer to Johnny. He was playing dumb. You could feel the curl of his lips against the back of your head.

“You’re back,” you said weakly, your throat hoarse with sleep.

“I’m back,” he affirmed. His hand found your stomach rubbing small circles in an attempt to lull you back to sleep. He wasn't ready to get up yet. He had just gotten home an hour ago and the last thing he wanted to do was pull himself away from the warmth of this bed. “Go back to sleep, pup,” he urged. You didn't need much more convincing, your eyes practically sewing themselves shut.

“Welcome home,” Johnny grumbled, with half-lidded eyes.

“Thanks, pup,” Simon mumbled, his fingers digging into the Scots side, pulling all of you closer once more. That wasn't usual for Simon, needing to have his pack this close, especially after a mission. Something must’ve happened.

“You alright?” Johnny drawled, unburying his face from your neck. Simon hummed in assurance.

“Fine, mutt,” he soothed. “Get some sleep,” he pressed, his fingers racking up and down Johnny’s lower back.

The next time Simon woke he had a fever. It was hot enough to make you and Johnny wake up in a sweat. Johnny quickly grabbed you, plopping you on the couch next to Kyle- assuming you may have triggered a rut for Simon like you had for John.

“What’s happening?” John groaned, uncurling himself from Kyle on the couch.

“Fever,” you responded. Kyle's hand pressed against your forehead. “Simon,” you clarified, moving to stand so you could peek into Johnny’s room. “I don't think it’s a rut Johnny,” you mumbled.

“I’m fine,” Simon groaned. He peeled off his sweatshirt, flopping back down against the mattress. His wide chest rose and fell irregularly. You approached your hand resting on his stomach. His body seemed to relax slightly, and you decided to take the chance and curl up against him. His heartbeat was fast- too fast.

“I’m calling a doctor,” John pressed, gently maneuvering Kyle off of him. Simon flipped the two of you over, making you gasp. Johnny flung forward his hand gripping the alpha’s shoulder.

“Not gonna do anything, pup,” he mumbled, his heart squeezing at the sound that escaped you. “Need to feel ya,” he mumbled, just low enough for you to hear. His hand crept under your shirt resting against the soft skin of your back.

He couldn't explain it. It started two weeks ago, a light burning sensation under his skin, and an almost sour feeling in his mouth. It felt like he was going through withdrawals. He was shaky, his heart skipping beats. He went through two packs of cigarettes in a day and still no relief. Wasn't till he met you at the hospital after Kyle’s accident did he start to put it together. Yet it only got worse being around you.

He growled against your neck, clenching his jaw so hard his teeth creaked.

“Doctor’ll be here in fifteen,” John spoke, his shoulder taking up the doorway. “How long have you felt this way?” John pressed.

“Couple weeks,” he growled. A pang shot through his skull, he steadied himself over you, taking a deep breath. It only made it worse, yet he couldn't pull himself away. Johnny leaned against the desk causing it to creak, the sound sending Simon on high alert. You whined at the snarl that left him. “Sorry,” he apologized instantly.

“Sweetheart, how about we wait on the couch till the doctor gets here?” John offered, beginning to move towards the two of you. He didn't like the way Simon was acting. The sound that came out of Simon was deadly, making it known he disagreed with Johns suggestion. John released a sound of his own.

You were scared.

It didn't help when Simon's hand reached behind him, grabbing at John's shirt.

“What the hell?” Johnny growled. Johnny sprung into action, his arms reaching under Simons pulling him to the floor.

“Get out!” John commanded. You didn't need to be told twice, throwing yourself off the bed, curling up behind Kyle. Kyle held you with both arms, not caring about the uncomfortable stretch of his shoulder.

“Up we go,” Kyle pressed, grabbing his crutch and leading you into your room. He locked the door behind the both of you, cradling you against him as you shook.

You could hear them.

Cursing. The sound of someone being slammed against the wall. Growling. Shouting. Things breaking.

The smell of angry alpha began to seep under the door.

“Kyle,” you whimpered. He shushed you softly, his lips pressed against your hairline.

It suddenly went quiet.

Hi friends! See you in three days for chapter 32! 🧡🙌🏻

[felassan]

Cliff notes on the new info on Dragon Age: The Veilguard in today’s issue of Game Informer (magazine hub link):

Edit/update: I tidied up this post. ^^

---

In CC you can customize things like shoulder width, chest size, glute size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, nose crookedness, and more

There are hundreds of sliders for body proportions

CC detail: “Features like skin hue, tone, melanin”

There is nudity in DA:TV, “which I learned firsthand while customizing my Rook” in CC

Rook’s backstory also affects “reputation standing”, along with the other previously-known things like in-game dialogue etc

Lords of Fortune are pirate-themed, “piratic”

Rook ascends because of competency, not because of a magical McGuffin, contrasting with the 'destiny-has-chosen you’ angle DA:I has for the Inquisitor

Rook is here because they chose to be, “and that speaks to the kind of character that we’ve built. Someone needs to stop this, and Rook says, ‘I guess that’s me'”

The 4 voices we can choose for Rook each have a pitch shifter in CC

The game starts inside the bar (as previously detailed in other coverage)

In some dialogue wheels there is a “romantically inclined ‘emotional’ response” option. These are the replies that will build relationships with characters, romantic and platonic alike, but you can ignore them if you want to. Giving a companion the cold shoulder might nudge them into another companion’s embrace however

Bellara’s surname is Lutara

In the streets of Minrathous (in the opening segment of the game), there is a wide, winding pathway with a pub which has a dozen NPCs in it (is this The Swan tavern?)

The devs used the DA:TV CC to make each in-world NPC, except for specific characters like companions

There is smart use of verticality, scaling and wayfinding in the gameplay

If you play as e.g. a qunari Rook, the camera adjusts to ensure larger characters like them loom over those below. The camera also adjusts appropriately for dwarves to demonstrate their smaller stature

Neve Gallus is described as being capable

The Venatori Cultists we fight in the opening segment of the game are seizing the chaos caused by the demons unleashed by Solas’ ritual to try and take the opportunity to take over the city

As you traverse deeper and deeper into Solas’ hideout, more of his murals appear on the walls, and things 'get more elven'. Rhodes says “this is because you’re symbolically going back in time, as Minrathous is a city built by mages on the bones of what was originally the home of the elves”

At the heart of Solas’ hideout is his personal eluvian

Demons are fully redesigned in this game, on their original premise as creatures of feeling that live and die off the emotions around them. “As such, they are just a floating nervous system, pushed into this world from the Fade, rapidly assembled into bodies out of whatever scraps they find”

In the opening, we stop Solas’ ritual and save the world. “For now” anyways. Rook passes out moments later and wakes up in a dream-like landscape to the voice of Solas. He explains that a few drops of Rook’s blood interacted with the ritual, connecting them to the Fade forever. (I guess this is why they said in the Discord Q&A on June 14th that Rook has good reasons to want to avoid blood magic)

He also says that he was attempting to move Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (confirming who the two Evil Gods are) to a new prison, because the one he had previously constructed was failing. Unfortunately, Solas is trapped in the Fade by our doing, and the two gods are now free. “It’s up to Rook to stop them”, thus setting the stage for our adventure

Rook wakes up after this with Harding and Neve “in the lair of the Dread Wolf himself”, a special magical realm in the Fade called The Lighthouse. It’s a towering structure centered amongst various floating islands. This is where the team bonds, grows, and prepares for its adventures. It becomes more functional and homier as you do. “Already, though, it’s a beautifully distraught headquarters for the Veilguard, although they aren’t quite referring to themselves as that just yet”.

Because it was Solas’ home base, it's gaudy, with his fresco murals adorning various walls, greenery hanging from above, and hues of purple and touches of gold everywhere. Since it’s in the Fade, which is a realm of dreams that responds to your world state and emotion, the Lighthouse “reflects the chaos and disrepair of the Thedas you were in moments ago”

Clock symbols over dialogue icons signal optional dialogue options

At this point you can head over to Neve, engage in dialogue, and try and flirt with her

There is a dining hall in the Lighthouse. A plate, cutlery and a drinking chalice are at the end of a massive table. Matt Rhodes says that this is a funny and sad look at Solas’ isolated existence, and an example of the detail BioWare’s art team has put into DA:TV. “It’s like when you go to a friend’s house and see their bedroom for the first time; you get to learn more about them”

There is also a library, which is the central area of the The Lighthouse. It’s here that the party will often regroup and prepare for what’s next

The team decides that it must reach the ritual site back in Arlathan Forest. Corinne Busche said that the writer was "missing unique dialogue options here because I’m qunari; an elf would have more to say about the Fade due to their connection to it. The same goes for my backstory earlier in Minrathous. If I had picked the Shadow Dragons background, Neve would have recognized me immediately, with unique dialogue”

The team decide their next move. They go to Solas’ eluvian and back through to the ritual site in Arlathan Forest. However, it’s not fully functional without Solas, and while it returns them to the Forest, it’s not exactly where they want to go. Then a demon-infested suit of mechanized armor known as a Sentinel attacks them, and two NPCs appear to save you: the Veil Jumpers Strife and Irelin. Harding recognizes them, which you would expect if you read the comic Dragon Age: The Missing. They are experts in ancient elven magic. A cutscene ensues and we learn that Strife and Irelin need help finding Bellara Lutara. This cutscene is long and has multiple dialogue options.

“There’s a heavy emphasis on storytelling and dialogue, and it feels deep and meaty, like a good fantasy novel. BioWare doesn’t shy away from minutes-long cutscenes”

For Rook, this story is about what does it mean to be a leader? We define their leadership style with our choices. “From the sound of it, my team will react to my chosen leadership style in how my relationships play out.” This is demonstrated within the game’s dialogue and a special relationship meter on each character’s companion screen

Bellara is deep within Arlathan Forest, and following the events of the prologue, something is up here. Three rings of massive rocks fly through the air, protecting what appears to be a central fortress. Demon Sentinels plague the surrounding lands.

In gameplay/combat, players complete every swing in real time. Special care was taken in development for animation swing-through and cancelling. We can dash, parry, charge moves, and a completely revamped healing system that allows us to use potions at our discretion by hitting right on the d-pad. You can combo attacks and even ‘bookmark’ combos with a quick dash, which means that you can pause a combo’s status with a dash to safety and continue the rest of the combo afterward

Abilities can be used to customize your kit. They can be used on the fly as long as you account for cooldowns

When you pause and pull up the ability Wheel, it highlights you and your companions’ skills. There you can choose abilities, queue them, target specific enemies, and strategize with synergies and combos

Each character plays the same in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way, regardless of which class you select

Sword and shield warriors can hip-fire or aim their shield and throw it like Captain America

Warriors can parry incoming attacks which can stagger enemies. Rogues have a larger parry window. The mage the writer played couldn’t parry at all. Instead they throw up a shield that blocks incoming attacks automatically, so long as you have the mana to maintain it

On the start/pause screen: it has the map, journal, character sheets, skill tree, and a library for lore information. You can use it to cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and their companions, build weapon loadouts for quick change-ups mid-combat, and customize you and your party’s abilities and builds via an easy-to-understand skill tree. There aren’t in-depth minutiae, just "real numbers". For example, an unlocked trait might increase damage by 25 percent against armor, but that’s as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like a Wall of Fire to your arsenal if you’re a mage. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100 percent bespoke to each class, you’ll work closer to unlocking a spec, complete with a unique ultimate ability

“Sentinels and legions of darkspawn”

Combat is flashy and quick, with different types of health bars. Greenish-blue represents a barrier, which is taken down most effectively with ranged attacks

The game is gorgeous, with sprinkles, droplets, and splashes of magic in each attack a mage unleashes

The game looks amazing on consoles both in fidelity and performance modes

The mission to find Bellara is called “In Entropy’s Grasp”. You find her. She is the first companion you recruit (as Neve auto-joins). If your background is Veil Jumper, you get unique dialogue here with Bellara. She explains that everyone there is all trapped in a Veil Bubble, and there’s no way out once you pass through it. Despite the dire situation, she is bubbly, witty, and charming. She is spunky and effervescent

Companions are the faces of their factions, and in this case with Bellara, their entire area of the world. She is our window into Arlathan Forest. She is described as a sweetheart and a nerd for ancient elven artifacts, which is why she’s dressed more like an academic than a combatant. Her special arm gauntlet is useful both for tinkering with her environment and taking down enemies. While Neve uses ice magic and can slow time with a special ability, Bellara specializes in electricity, and she can also use magic to heal you. Her electric magic is effective against Sentinels. “However, without Bellara, we could also equip a rune that converts my ice magic, for a brief duration, into electricity to counter the Sentinels”

If you don’t direct your companions in combat, they are fully independent and will attack on their own

You progress at this point through the Forest, encountering more and more darkspawn. Bellara says that they have never been this far before because the underground Deep Roads, which they usually escape from, aren’t nearby. However, with “blighted” (BLIGHTED!) elven gods roaming the world, and thanks to the Blight’s radiation-like spread, it’s a much bigger threat in DA:TV than any prior DA game

The Forest has elven ruins, dense greenery and disgusting Blight tentacles and pustules

The style of the game is more high fantasy than anything in the series thus far and almost reminiscent of the whimsy of Fable. Matt Rhodes says that this is the result of the game’s newfound dose of magic: “The use of magic has been an evolution as the series has gone on. It’s something we’ve been planning for a while because Solas has been planning all this for a while. In the past, you could hint at cooler magical things in the corner because you couldn’t actually go there, but now we actually can, and it’s fun to showcase that.” The Forest’s whimsy will starkly contrast to the game’s other areas. The devs promise some grim locations and even grimmer story moments because, without that contrast, everything falls flat. Corinne says it’s like a “thread of optimism” pulled through otherworldly chaos ravaging Thedas. At this point in the game, Bellara’s personality is that thread

We can advance our bonds with our companions on their own personal quests and by including them in our party on main quests. Every Relationship Level you rank up, shown on their character sheet, nets you a skill point to spend on them. “The choices you make, what you say to companions, how you help them, and more all matter to their development as characters and party members”. Each companion has access to 5 abilities.

Each companion has issues, problems, and personal quests to complete. “Bellara has her own story arc that runs parallel to and informs the story path you’re on” (They’ve said that all of the companions have this too in previous promo material)

You progress deeper into the forest and Bellara spots a floating fortress and thinks that the artifact needed to destroy the Veil Bubble is in there. To reach it, we must remove the floating rock rings, and Bellara’s unique ability, Tinker, can do just that by interacting with a piece of ancient elven technology nearby. Rook can acquire abilities like Tinker later to complete such tasks in instances where Bellara, for example, isn’t in the party

Bellara has to activate three of these in the Forest to reach the castle. Each one you activate brings forth a bunch of Sentinels, demons, and darkspawn to defeat

You can create Arcane Bombs on enemies. It does high damage after being hit by a heavy attack

It sounds like mage characters can charge heavy attacks on their magical staffs. “then switch to magical daggers in a second loadout accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick attacks”

Some enemies are “Frenzied”, meaning that they hit harder, move faster, and have more health

After a few more combat sections, including against a Frenzied sentinel, we reach the center of the temple. In there is an artifact called the Nadas Dirthalen. Bellara knows that this means “the inevitability of knowledge”. Before we can progress, a darkspawn ogre boss attacks, hitting hard with unblockable, red-coded attacks and a massive shield that you need to take down first. It is weak to fire

After defeating it (it’s a climactic arena fight), Bellara uses a special crystal to power the artifact and remove it from the pedestal, which destroys the Veil Bubble. Then, the Nadas Dirthalen comes alive as an Archive Spirit, but because the crystal used to power it breaks, we learn little about this spirit before it disappears. Bellara thinks that she can fix it (fixing broken stuff is her thing), so the group heads back to the Veil Jumper camp. The writer’s demo then ended.

The design of the game is not open world. The devs describe it as a “hub-and-spoke” design where the needs of the story are served by the level design. A version of DA:I’s Crossroads return (the network of teleporting eluvians) and this is how players will traverse across northern Thedas. “Instead of a connected open world, players will travel from eluvian to eluvian to different stretches of this part of the continent”. e.g. Minrathous, tropical beaches, Arlathan Forest, “to grim and gothic areas and elsewhere”. Some of these areas are large and full of secrets and treasures. Others are smaller and more focused on linear storytelling. Arlathan Forest is an example of this, but it still has optional paths and offshoots to explore for loot, healing potion refreshes, and other things.

Each location has a minimap, though linear levels like In Entropy’s Grasp won’t have the 'fog of war' that disappears as you explore like in some of the game’s bigger locations

The game has the largest number of diverse biomes in DA history

The Thedas of DA:TV “lives in the uncertainty”. “the mystery of its narrative”, “the implications of its lore”

The writer is surprised by BioWare’s command over the notoriously difficult Frostbite engine, and by how much narrative thought the dev team poured into these characters, even for BioWare.

---

[source: the Game Informer pages from Issue 367 - the cover story from June 18th (link), two]

[crypticminx]

I need rough sex Felix (maybe with a breeding link?!) but then he’s sweet and caring after :)

Ughhh you got it angel!! Ask and u shall receive <3 I’m not sure if I got the sweet and caring part nailed but :0

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Thunderous sounds of music blared throughout the festively decorated home, causing chaos between the shared drinks amongst all the happy partygoers. One could only hope they don’t wake up with painful headaches and sore ears, but that seemed like a tomorrow problem.

Catton house parties taken place at the luxurious castle were no disappointment and lived up to be the most thrilling event of year.

However, there was a certain host who was missing in action.

Bathroom door locked and shut to its full extent, Felix blocked out any sort of comotion happening outside as his full attention was laid on you. There were a few aggressive knocks followed by shouting for whoever was in there to hurry up, but the two of you didn’t care. If someone wanted to hurl the alcohol that didn’t sit well with their foolish decisions, they would have to resort to another option.

You looked far too delicious for him to carry you all the way up the long, dwelling staircase that lead to his bedroom—resulting in some quick action and a subtle drag into a nearby bathroom. It wasn’t the picture perfect scene for a quickie, empty beer bottles messily scattred on the countertop and white traces of powder on the sink, but you both worked with what you were given.

“Jesus,” he quietly moaned, loud enough for you to hear with all the chaotic noise. Forcefully pulling your head back to where his lips were waiting for another passionate kiss. His tongue collided with yours as the two of you became inseparable of unlocking your driven stamina. He could still smell the faint scent of your floral perfume, and with no shame, he moved his salivating lips onto your neck. Marking it with as many love bites possible, hoping they would show in full force tomorrow as a result of what the two of you got up to.

“Dress,” his voice was muffled from the contact that was his mouth with your neck, “off, now.”

He demanded with such assertiveness, you could feel your tiny thong growing wet with delight.

“Yes sir,” you bit your lip, knowing that your once neatly applied lipstick was all smeared because of his doing.

His hands fumbled as they undid the sheer dress he picked out for you, pulling it with as much care possible, trying not to ruin or strain it. If it was his way, he would rip it to shreds till you’d be naked.

“And these,” he trailed slowly to your thong, “though they’re so sexy, they’ve got to go, darling.”

He was so impatient—frantic even, not fully undressing himself. Only undoing his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers in unison, his long hard cock fully on display. Aching to go inside of you with full force.

He lifted your naked body onto the sink, letting you sit with your legs spread out. He eagerly thrusted into you, hearing you let out your first of many whimpering moans, the ones that made him never want to stop.

“Felix,” you tried not to melt as he inched his way further, toes curling as your legs wrapped around his legs that stood on the ground. You pulled him closer, digging your nails slightly into his back as your signal for wanting him to not hold back.

Lustful groans erupted from his hoarse voice, his cock twitching to no end once he felt your warm inner walls start to become more wet. He forced you deep into the crook of his neck, as you felt the heat from the exposed parts of his body latch onto yours, a warm sensation. You rode his dick to the best of your ability while sitting on the cold sink, breasts bouncing up and down in perfect harmony.

However, he was the one in charge.

In between pants, he huffed, “look s’fuckin beautiful tonight, baby.” Loving every moment that he embraced your pussy practically sucking on his gliding cock.

You inched yourself away from hiding in his chest, wanting to see his sweaty face as he made fiery love to you.

“But you’d look so much better if I filled you up..”

You clenched harder, finding it hard to speak when he knew what he was doing to you. You were on the brink of an orgasm, feeling shockwaves of pleasurable vibrations as his erection grew mad with every pounce.

“Gonna cum in me,” you dangerously teased to the best of your abilities.

And with using your pretty hypnotic voice, something in him snapped—and for a better word, released his senses to heatedly turn more rough. Dying to not let a single drop go to waste inside of you.

Roughly grabbing your hair with his fingers as you felt your head pour into a different direction. He yanked you to no avail, all with a devilish smile.

“M’gonna fill you up so good, princess,” he breathed. “So good that next time everyone here sees you, you’ll be pregnant with my baby.”

“Please,” you blurted out, begging for him to cum in you, while internally you failed to let yourself hold back. Coating his cock, which was still deeply in the depths of you, with your orgasm.

It was sinful the way he seductively declared what he wanted to do to you, but you pleasured every heated moment of it.

Heavily breathing while he waited, Felix couldn’t stand another second more, he jerked himself into you one last time, filling you up with all his delectable cum in a matter of seconds.

You both savoured the feeling of getting each other off before the haze of needy desire wore off. Love, however, was still in the air. He swung a towel off the hanger, cleaning you up first, making sure you weren’t stained with something somebody else need to see.

He was slow and patient while stroking your thighs with the fabric. when you finally made your way out of your position from sitting, he lovingly grabbed you, kissing the top of your head as he took you in.

Noticing that your dress and other belongings were still placed on the floor, Felix bent down, breaking free from your embrace to pick them up.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to see you with out this, hmmm,�� he beamed, eyes twinkling as he helped you in dressing yourself.

Though you always had the most mind blowing sex, you felt tonight it was somehow cut short.

“Maybe I can take it off later again?” You purred, seeing his face grow wide with plenty of ideas.

He caressed your face, fingers gliding on your red, sweaty cheek that still made you look as beautiful as ever.

“Oh,” he paused for a mere second, “I’m not gonna stop till you’re actually pregnant.”

[notjustjavierpena]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter I

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here it is. I have been working hard on this chapter for you, plotting out the little details that will hopefully connect beautifully with the coming chapters. I hope you like my take on Marcus Acacius, and I hope you will be patient and follow along ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy the effort I’ve put into making this somewhat historically accurate! 

Chapter Summary: In which you meet your future husband, get a warning from an old friend and explore pleasure on your own - all the while tension grows in Rome. 

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, reference to marital SA but no actual SA, religion in the form of Roman Gods, talk about virginity, intense kissing, f!masturbation involving shame and guilt.

Word count: 7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/146141770

Chapter I: In these tumultuous times

You step through the atrium with a pulse that might break your ribs, too nervous to enjoy the marvel of the glorious marble construction that envelops you in near gold-speckled white. Neither can you fascinate yourself in the grandeur of the peristyle garden that you eventually find yourself in, green and luscious with well-tended plants that have no other purpose other than being beautiful - much like you. 

The afternoon sun will come soon, casting a shadow over the rose bushes and the fountains which slow trickles of water are supposed to bring you peace but somehow just makes you dread this meeting even more. Any girl back home would deem the location romantic from the blooming red flowers but you feel no affection for the man you are to greet in less than an hour. Even if your mother claims that you eventually will.

You thank the Gods that your mother isn’t here with you, knowing that you would have had to suffer through hearing her complain about Sol moving just a bit too far across the sky in his golden chariot to let your gown shine the way it is supposed to. She has already spent several hours doing your hair since dawn, decorating each strand with violets from the grass patch close to the river that runs through your village. Symbolizing modesty and faithfulness, she had said. 

It’s not like you are here alone though. Instead of being here with your mother, you are here with your father; a senator who, despite his well-earned respect in the confusing web of Roman politics, still finds ways to satisfy his greed for more power. In this case, it is giving away his daughter to General Marcus Acacius. 

“This is good for us,” your father had said during your silent crying as he talked about your new life with importance, “It will secure our family's position in these tumultuous times.”

Times are indeed tumultuous and they are changing right before your eyes in the form of angry shouts in the streets, rotting fruit and vegetables at the town square market, and fewer outings amongst commoners. Rome, once a beacon of hope and stability, now teeters on the edge of a type of chaos that not even the previous emperor Commodus could imagine putting his empire through. The co-emperors’ insanity, greed, and vanity drain the empire’s coffers as they engage in petty conflicts that lead to war left and right. As a result, the population is left impoverished, the youngest of men are dying in battle and the women cry for their families all the while the very top - your family included - luxuriates in growing wealth. Such is war, your father has stressed. 

“General Acacius is a man of influence,” your father had continued, his voice laced with conviction that you did not understand, “His alliance will protect us from the whims of those who oppose the emperors and their righteous campaigns.”

General Acacius is a man of great renown, co-emperors Geta and Caracella’s right-hand man, and with a sea of stories about his admirable exploits on the battlefield. Your father has somehow made the political move of his life by settling this deal, promising the great warrior a wife of exceptional beauty who he can do with as he pleases. Women never have a say in these things, so you simply smiled during dinners where your future was discussed in the same manner as when a farmer plans the sale of one of his cattle, listing the animal’s qualities like he would say them later to the buyer. 

Whenever he finally let you in on the conversation, he would give you a stern smile and emphasize the importance of this arrangement because of the honor and security it would bring to your family to have such a man as your ally. However, where your father wanted you to think about your future husband’s victories, all you do think about is the fact that your future husband is a man in his fifties and you have barely surpassed your twentieth Summer in the mortal realm. 

When the minutes tick by with excruciating slowness, you find a bench made of stone in the shade. You dust off your dress, tuck it close to your thighs, and sit down to steady your nervous breathing. The sun has made you unsteady, having beaten down on you - contrary to your mother’s worries - despite it being the last burning rays of the afternoon. You blame it on your overactive mind, the racing thoughts having gone straight to your heart and made your blood flow hot through you. 

You lay a hand against your forehead, fighting off a sob as the nerves finally get the better of you. There’s no way you can ever see your reflection in the cold river again, smell the hyacinths that brush your ankles as you walk through them, or hear the laughter of children in the building next door unless the giggles are those of your own little ones. 

You have been groomed for this, trained by your eager mother to be the perfect wife to a man you have never met. Your mother’s meticulous preparation is meant to ensure that you make a flawless first impression and are a suitable wife, but right now it does little to calm you because you know that this arrangement’s ultimate goal is for you to bear children that will be even more powerful than you and the General’s respective families. 

Barely an adult and never been kissed, forced to be intimate by the General’s command that will surely come. You know well enough that there’s more to it than that, Cassius, a boy from the market, once having revealed in great detail what goes on between a man and his wife or even just a man and a woman. The future wedding night feels like an impending disaster, embarrassing for you with the way your mother has also dragged you aside to tell you horror stories of men taking what they want from their wives with little regard for their pain. 

You gasp as a twig snaps close by, pulling you out of your trance to assess the situation. In front of you, you see him. General Marcus Acacius is standing no less than ten feet from you, his armor, a white plate body adorned with the design of two golden griffins, gleaming in the sunlight. He stands tall and imposing, his presence radiating with authority but when you spot him, his eyes make him seem incapable of the horrors that people attribute to married men. His hair, streaked with gray, frames a face marked by the years and experiences of a seasoned soldier. His eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into you as he waits for you to move. 

You stare up at him for a second only to be seized by panic as you remember the routine you had been forced to practice with your mother. Quickly, you rise from your seat, dust off your dress, and lower your gaze respectfully. 

“General Acacius, forgive me,” you say without finding his gaze. 

You hear your name on his lips, surprised to hear that his voice is firm yet not unkind. It’s hard to suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine, a tingling sensation at the small of your back as he speaks because you know what he will be doing to your body soon, “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

You nod, letting out the rehearsed lines expertly, “The honor is mine and mine alone, General.”

“Look at me, my child,” you hear him command softly, getting a glimpse of what led him to become the man of power and grace that he is today because you follow through without thinking. You only imagine what he must be able to accomplish when his voice is rough and demanding. However, his eyes are softer still, a striking contrast to his profession where he has to consider each of his steps with deliberate and measured precision. 

Marcus steps closer. You automatically take a step back, afraid that he might try and touch you already against your will. Nobody would know if he ravished you right here. He presses his mouth together in a thin line but he still somehow doesn’t look angry, instead just looks like he is analyzing the situation that he is in. 

“Your father thought it best that I introduced myself without him or the servants’ eyes watching. I was surprised at his immediate confidence in me to be alone with his youngest daughter,” he says while you hug yourself to soothe your aching chest, holding on tightly as you beg someone to help you escape. He examines you long enough for you to believe he won’t strike to take what he might want. You feel guilty for thinking that he might have, knowing that it’s not the actions of an honorable leader. 

“You are much younger than I expected,” he admits after a moment, a hint of weariness in his tone. 

A tear slides down your stinging cheeks but you quickly brush it away and regain your composure enough to not start sobbing. The embarrassment of your single teardrop is evident on your face as warmth creeps up through the intricate twists and bends of your bloodstream, a dull pounding sounding in your ears. 

“And you are a great man,” you reply in the most steady voice you can muster, “I hope to be a worthy wife to you.”

Marcus smiles, a small but genuine expression while he ignores your obvious distress. After all, this is not a matter in which women have a say. He sounds ever so confident in you, encouraging even, in a way you guess is to soothe your impending tears, “You will do well, I am sure.”

When you do not respond, he tries again. You must look like a scared little girl, desperately in need of being approached like a frightened animal and your heartbeat certainly imitates the one of a rabbit.

“I see you wear flowers in your hair,” he notes, finding the least threatening subject to discuss.

“Yes?” You furrow your brow, arms already falling down your sides. You link your fingers together in front of you. 

“I made sure to have the gardener do extra work on each of the flowers in case you were interested in flora and fauna,” he elaborates, “Does the garden please you, Carissima?” 

Carissima. The Latin word for dearest. He seems to be trying it out, collecting information from how you react to it, and making a move based on it. Your brows knit even further together but you use the opportunity to seem less scared and more relaxed after hearing it.

“It’s very beautiful, General. I shall be very fond of it in the future,” you say genuinely because, despite your ignorance of its charm right now, a rational part of you knows that it is gorgeous and enchanting. You will come to love it wholeheartedly.

“The birds that land in the trees here sing you awake in the early hours of the day,” he continues and mirrors you by also softening a little, looking around with a surprising fondness toward the gentle coos of the doves sitting on the rooftops, “If you are very lucky, you might hear a nightingale amongst the doves’ coos.”

“Nightingales are common back home,” you tell him with longing in your heart, closing your eyes for the briefest second but being able to see your backyard so clearly in that fleeting moment. Marcus senses it, shifting a bit on the spot with a concerned expression so you force a smile to let him know there’s no reason to worry about getting a sorrowful wife. You will cry tonight but you will be ready when he needs you to.

“So you know their song well,” he answers thoughtfully, “Good. I’m glad. It will remind you of home in these new surroundings. Will you let me show you the rest of the garden? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little before the weekend’s ceremony.”

He holds out his arm for you and you hesitate for just a moment before taking it, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how strong he is. His muscles flex gently underneath his bare skin, nicely soft wrapped around the muscles of his bicep when you expect everything about him to be rough and worn out by years of service to the empire. His smell envelops you, near-dizzying to you because you’ve never been in such close proximity to a man before and you don’t think you can imagine being any closer than this even though you have to soon. To think that you were nervous about him stepping close just minutes ago and now he is touching you and it feels… fine, not scary at all.

As he walks beside you, you can see the lines on his forehead when he speaks in concentration. He still looks good for his age, you find yourself thinking, blessed by the deities Venus and Apollo for his well-aged beauty and the golden radiance of his skin that reminds you of the sun. You notice his nose now that you see his profile, it curving in the way of Jupiter’s and making you swallow thickly at the power his mere appearance gives him. 

Some things speak to the young girl in you too; his beard has patches, one formed in a heart shape that you would tell the girls in your village back home about if you could. To this, they would giggle delightedly like they were still the age of getting tutored. 

Then there are his brown eyes, deep as the darkest of amber you have collected on the shorelines in your youth. They shine with sincerity, more than once filling yours with their honey glow as you walk together. You begin to see beyond the fearsome reputation and the sternness that he first approached you with. He speaks of the flowers surrounding you with surprising tenderness, admitting to the jasmine being his favorite, and of how he had the garden designed to remind him of his childhood home in the countryside.

You think that your responses seem trivial compared to the anecdotes that he is able to share but he seems to enjoy hearing tales about your childhood home. He nods in understanding and adds the words of someone well-reflected even if he is known for brutality when at war. You let down your guard, “We must have more in common than I initially thought, Gene—“ 

“Marcus,” he corrects when you come to a stop, “You may call me Marcus when we are alone.” 

“Marcus,” you repeat. You look down briefly as warmth settles in your cheeks, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest because you realize he has led you to a small, secluded area of the grand peristyle garden. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden hue over the marble fountain before you. It is small yet majestic in its simplicity, surrounded by vines of ivy and jasmine. It seems to be his favorite spot on all of his owned property.

“What are we doing here? Are we supposed to be this hidden from everyone else?” Your grip loosens on his arm.

“Never mind that, Carissima…”

There’s that name again. 

“Look, I know this isn’t the Trevi Fountain of Rome but I thought we could wish for Fortuna to bring us good luck and happiness together,” he reaches for his belt where a pouch hangs in a string that pulls it closed. He digs his thumb and index finger into it and digs out a coin, its front decorated with an engraved picture of a peacock’s feather; a symbol of Juno, the Goddess of marriage and childbirth. 

He holds the coin between his fingers, the sunlight catching its glimmering surface, and offers it to you with a gentle expression that’s not quite a smile in case it might scare you off. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your palm. This is your future husband and he is trying, doing everything in his power not to unsettle you but invite you to give yourself to him in the next coming days.

The coin is mostly cool against your skin but still holds the tiniest amount of warmth from Marcus’ fingers, its edges smooth and worn from years of handling. 

“This is a tradition,” Marcus explains, his voice carrying reverence, “We make a wish and toss the coin into the fountain. It is said that Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, grants blessings to those who seek her favor.”

You nod. This moment feels intimate, a quiet ritual shared between the two of you amidst the grandeur of the garden yet still hidden away from everyone else. This is a ritual of lovers, of people whose fates are closely entwined. You look at Marcus, meeting his warm brown eyes, and find reassurance in his steady gaze and slow secure breaths. You find it shameful that you believed him to be violent with you, that he would do anything with anger because he is, you realize, the type of man who doesn’t have to take anything by force when it comes to women. In that moment, it makes total sense to follow his wishes, but even more, it makes sense to wed him and go to bed with him. 

“What should I wish for?” You ask softly. 

Marcus dares a smile, “Whatever your heart desires. A wish for happiness, perhaps. Or for our future together to be filled with understanding and respect. Perhaps, in our own way, companionship and love.”

Together, you approach the edge of the fountain and you lean over it to gaze at the many glinting coins on the bottom. A violet falls from your hair and lands on the surface of the water, floating effortlessly with such strong symbolism that your stomach does a flip.

Marcus steps closer behind you and you turn to face him, the rim of the marble fountain digging into the back of your thighs until you nearly fall backward in an embarrassingly young fashion. Marcus takes you by the wrist to steady you but the touch doesn’t last long since you’re supposed to throw the coin over your shoulder. 

With a flick of your wrist, you send the coin into the water behind you. The only thing you feel is the coldness on your skin where Marcus’ fingers were a moment ago, the slight breeze cooling down his leftover body heat quickly. 

The coin hits the water with a splash. You swallow your nervousness to say something for the first time that isn’t the answer to a question from him, “May Fortuna smile upon us.”

“May she indeed,” Marcus agrees, pleased. He motions to a bench close by, “Shall we sit for a moment? Your feet must be tired.” 

You agree, and he helps you to sit. Your hands touching sends a spike of energy through you before you are disappointed by him taking a seat beside you but maintaining a respectful distance. He takes his sword out of its place in his belt and rests it against the bench, getting comfortable with you. 

“Marcus,” you say his name before you even realize what you want to ask of him.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for you to continue, nodding his head in acknowledgment. 

When your request comes to mind, you are struck by the fear of ridicule but you shove it down in favor of letting yourself have this.

“I know this is most unusual to ask of you, but would you give me a kiss?” The second you have said it, panic makes you babble in his presence, “I know my duties as a wife, my mother has told me plenty, but I cannot bear the idea of the first show of affection between us to be in our chambers and with… with more to come.” 

If you are not to burst into tears at the festivities after your union or even worse, when he takes you to bed, you need to get this out of the way. You only hope to be successful in your attempt, knowing it is not customary to follow through on such an ask. It hangs in the air for a moment, the garden seeming to hold its breath along with you. It all comes down to your future husband’s view of modesty. 

Marcus watches you carefully with an expression that is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. He looks like he might say no at first, afraid that someone from his staff might spot you and start a rumor that deems you unworthy of this arrangement. It might be the sincerity and vulnerability in your request that convinces him and lets him take the risk.  

“Very well, I understand your concern,” he nods with determination. 

He shifts closer on the stone bench, his movements slow as if trying to put you at ease, as if approaching a deer in the forest and not wanting it to run. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours as your thighs nearly touch, the scent of his skin filling your senses. It is leather, sandalwood… and something that is his own distinctive smell. Your heart races, your skin prickles underneath your gown, and heat spreads across your thighs. 

It feels like you only blink for a second but when you open your eyes again, Marcus is closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his uneven breaths mix with yours, 

“Are you ready?” He asks in a whisper, his breath warm against your face and his eyes roaming over your features in case you want to stop.

Your voice has died in your throat, so you simply nod your head. Marcus swallows thickly while you are lost in the fact that you can count his eyelashes right now. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours with care and apprehension that takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and restrained as if he is giving you the chance to pull away if you want to.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean into the kiss when you’ve gotten used to the scratch of his beard, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders and moving inwards towards his neck, sliding under the collar of his cape. His lips are warm and you feel a shiver run down your spine at a sort of contact you have never felt before. You wonder what he thinks of you, if your passion even in your inexperience is worth his time to broaden your horizon… but any doubt vanishes as the kiss deepens slightly, Marcus’ hand coming up from where it rests on the stone to lay on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A tiny noise leaves you and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can feel the strength in his arm as he has it wrapped around you but there is no force or demand in his touch. Instead, there is a sense of him handing control over to you. 

An instinct tells you to get even closer, straddle him, do something, anything even if you are not sure what. One of your hands falls down to Marcus’ chest plate, his uneven breath evident in how it pushes against your palm like raging waves. Your hand travels further down until the tips of your fingers brush his belt.

It is only then that the General reacts, pulling back firmly but without hurting you. He creates some distance between you by pushing you gently away by the shoulders. The both of you are breathless. He shakes his head, “Carissima. That was not part of the deal.”

You are embarrassed by your actions, not sure if Cupid is playing tricks on you by blowing to the fires of forbidden desire that you were not even aware burned in your lower belly. Your body hums but you are mortified, “S-sorry, my legatus. I don’t know what came over me.”

You go back to general. It feels appropriate to use his proper title now. You have brought shame on yourself, might as well have let him take your maidenhead right here on the stone-cold bench and the worst part is that you are not sure if the fire in your loins would have fogged your brain enough to not stop him from doing it. 

“Please, do not apologize,” he says to reassure, holding up a hand to stop you from protesting, “There is nothing wrong with what you feel. It is natural. But I want to honor my promise to your father, no matter the impulses that you give me. You are as beautiful as Venus herself. I shall enjoy our time together very much when it comes.”

“Thank you,” you say with a still trembling voice. The lump in your throat feels impossible to swallow. 

“Now. Shall we continue our walk?” He suggests while getting up from his seat, his tone light as if to ease the tension. He offers you a gentle smile as he ties his sword to his belt again then reaches to take your hand.

You get up with a simple nod. He acts like nothing for the rest of the day. 

—

You return home by carriage after dinner at Marcus’ estate. After a day with such complex emotions being explored, with how your new life seems less and less like a dream, and with how the sun hangs so low in the sky, you have already started to feel tiredness taking over your body. 

You excuse yourself to your room not long after you return to the comfortable familiarity of your home, brattishly avoiding conversation with your mother about how everything went when she starts asking a million questions. 

“I thought you might like to talk,” she says after you have gotten up from your seat in the living room, a few paces behind you as you make your way down the halls. 

“Mother, I just want some rest,” you stress, bare feet patting across the floor. You hold your skirt up to walk faster, nearing your destination but not wanting to slam the door in her face, “I do not wish to talk about anything with anyone. Ask Father. I bet he’ll be eager.”

“Dearest,” she tries, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Please,” you beg as you turn around in the doorway, “It was fine. I’ll be fine, it’s just a huge transition from this life.”

“That’s why I wanted to—“

“No,” you say more firmly than intended but your overwhelmed state leaves you with little patience. You hope she understands, know that she might because her marriage to your father started the very same way, “I promise we can talk in the morning but I really need some time for myself right now.”

Your mother looks slightly hurt like she is watching her child slip through her fingers during her last night at home. You swallow thickly but hold your ground. 

“Very well,” she says finally, eyes closing briefly to breathe through her nose. She forces a small smile and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow with this conversation forgotten.”

You offer the very same smile in return, then close the door behind you with a relieved sigh. You cross the room to the window, pushing open the shudders to overlook the buzzing garden. 

Carefully, you start detangling the flowers from your hair and laying them on the window sill. A few of them are taken by the wind, some landing on the ground while others delicately fly through the air. You watch them until a gasp leaves you, two eyes belonging to a man staring at you from across the garden but you don’t feel frightened. 

You sigh with annoyance as he steps out of the bushes and closer to the window, picking up one of the violets on his way, “You should not be here, Cassius.”

“I wanted to see you before tomorrow,” he admits with a little smile, boyish and inexperienced compared to the ones you have received from Marcus today. He places his hands on the window frame, about to crawl inside.

“Are you trying to get killed?” You whisper loudly and barricade the window, “You cannot be in here, don’t come in.”

“What if I never see you again?” Cassius huffs but doesn’t push it, “I just wanted to say congratulations on your union tomorrow.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Cass. Of course, I’ll see you again; you’re my oldest friend,” you say with exasperation but you know that it is naive of you to assume this is the way things work. Cassius grew up with a farmer for a father, living far away in the countryside where the houses are surrounded by fields of vegetables that they eat at the palace and a long way from the neighborhood that you have grown up in.

“Well, you can say it from outside my window,” you continue and tense up at a few footsteps outside your door. You hold your index finger in front of your lips, listening intently to see if they pass or stop in suspicion of who you are talking to.

A moment passes and the footsteps fade. You turn back to Cassius who now wears a troubled expression, eyebrows knitted together. You go a little softer, a little more quiet, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Cassius hesitates just a second before speaking, “Your dear old dad has probably told you about this but things are changing around the outskirts of Rome. It’s growing more dangerous by the day to live out where I am. Geta and Caracalla’s combined ruling. They are not in their right mind and it is tearing the backbone of the empire apart. We’re angry and starving.”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Your father has indeed talked about this during dinners in the past but always with no air of real concern and more with a scoff when mentioning the ungrateful people of Rome, their greed, their arrogance but mostly their lack of trust in their emperors who are right under the Gods.

“Why are you saying this?” You inquire impatiently.

“To ensure your safety in all of this when things break loose. You know how I feel about you,” Cassius looks down briefly. Yes, you know how he feels about you and while you have never reciprocated his love, you feel a tug in your heart about how he has waited for you for years with knowledge of how impossible your life together would be. A farm boy and the daughter of a senator? It is doomed from the very beginning.

“If things are as dangerous as you say then the General will be able to protect me, will he not?” You ask to push him away, make him let go of you. 

“Marcus Acacius is a powerful man, but even he may not be able to navigate the storm that’s coming to the citadel,” Cassius places a hand on the window sill, the violets flying to all sides from the force. It’s his way of trying to get closer. 

“And your solution is what? That I run away with you? Please,” you look down at his hand. This is not one of those moments where you realize your feelings after all this time, after years of childhood friendship, and run off together with the boy next door, so you let your hands fall down to your sides. 

“Don’t marry him,” he suggests with pleading eyes, “I don’t want you with those people.”

You laugh in disbelief and turn your head away, “Cassius, by the Gods, you know that I have no say in that whatsoever. Besides, who says that I don’t want to be there with him?”

Cassius ignores the last part of your sentence bitterly, “Then just be careful, my friend. I know your father has power but I know he favors the emperors which will not benefit him in the coming future. Those caught in the middle often pay the highest price and you’ll soon be at the very top, exposed.”

You shake your head to brush him off but something is looming underneath Cassius’ words. They don’t sound as delusional as your father might think them and you poke fun to maybe earn a confession, “You sound like you’re going to storm the palace tomorrow.”

It is Cassius’ turn to laugh but the sound is hollow, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. I would never be so bold as to make you hate me. No, I have no plans to go so far.”

“What are you planning?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Nothing right at this moment,” he replies quickly but unconvincingly. You can feel the tension in his voice and the strain on his jaw as he clenches it, “But I will do what I must if it comes to a point where I need to fight back.” 

“You make it sound like I have the power to fix everything. I do not,” you say with frustration.

“Then at least change your heart,” he tries one last time, holding his hand out for you like he wants you to take it and crawl out the window, never to show your face here again. 

You shake your head, “Cassius, you know our lives were never meant to intertwine like that. We come from different worlds.”

“But our hearts,” he whispers sorrowfully, “They’re from the same world. At least, mine has always belonged to you.”

“Cassius…”

“I understand,” he admits in defeat, “Marry him, have his children but stay out of the palace. I can’t stress that enough. Stay out of the palace.”

“You are speaking in tongues again, what does this mean? What do you know?” You stare at him.

Cassius steps back from the window, the distance between you growing both physically and emotionally. With a sad smile, he looks at you one last time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cassius,” you reply with furrowed brows. 

With that, he turns back into the night, leaving you with a mind filled with questions. You watch as he disappears into the shadows of the garden. 

You lean against the wall with a deep breath, heart heavy with uncertainty about who you thought you knew so well but you decide to ignore it completely to get some relief by rest. You will rather try to focus on the events of tomorrow as you start to undress down to your tunic, your thoughts swarming around Marcus instead of Cassius. The way that things are supposed to be.

Not long after, you lie down to sleep in your bedroom for the last time before moving into Marcus Acacius’ villa the next day. You should be feeling upset about leaving everything and everyone behind, nostalgic and melancholic even about Cassius, but all your mind does is replay the events that took place on the bench in the peristyle courtyard just half a day beforehand. It is so vivid that you cannot seem to rest, the images of Marcus’ beautiful, God-given eyes and mouth flashing on the inside of your eyelids whenever you try to fall asleep. The pictures are in such vibrant colors too, so intense that you resort to pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. The colors smear and blur together until they look like painting instead but you have to stop due to the ache. 

It doesn't matter anyway because it isn’t enough. Your vision isn’t the only one of your senses that he has taken as his own. The feel of his mouth lingers on yours, enough for you to let your fingertips trace over your bottom lip. It feels the same but then again, it doesn’t. Maybe he has left a mark on you that no one has dared to point out? 

As well lingers a feeling of a spark that cannot be extinguished once it has been ignited. The sensation has you restless under the covers, the woven fabric scratching uncomfortably against your arms and legs until you have to throw them off. 

It is a warm night tonight. The window shutters are still open to let in a night breeze that feels nice on your bare, burning, and untouched skin. You try to find sleep by listening to the usual chirping sound of the crickets but it is of no comfort this time. Marcus is still right there with you, his strong hand on your back and his eyes flickering down to your lips. In your head, he wants you and he lifts up your tunic to touch you where your pulse throbs and— By Jupiter, you need to calm yourself. 

You open your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Everyone has gone to bed, your parents, despite your protests, having come in and kissed you on the forehead while expressing how proud you have made them feel. Yet in the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom, everything feels foreign now that you’ve stepped into new territory of desire, unlocking something that separates you from what belongs to the mind of someone’s child. You don’t belong anymore in this room with walls that contain all of your childhood memories. You are grown now.

You should feel sorrow about this, about never coming back here but instead, your body buzzes like a hive of bees, tiny shivers of lust provided by Cupid flowing through you as teasingly as the softest butterfly wings flapping around inside you. It’s a forbidden feeling that stirs guilt in you but also a strange anticipation that has your hand slipping down your belly. Has your skin always been this soft?

You wonder if Marcus feels the same turmoil inside of himself, if he is lying awake just as you are right now and replaying the way your fingertips danced around his waistband but never got any further. The thought makes your hand slide down between your legs, reaching up under the hem of your tunic until your fingers slide over the wet skin there. You breathe deeply in through your nose.

You have done this a few times before but you’ve always gotten to a point where you have to stop yourself, afraid of what might happen when you feel yourself start to reach some sort of pinnacle that you are at a loss for words to describe. It’s natural, you remember Marcus saying about your body’s response. But doing it alone? Isn’t what you are feeling as you touch yourself reserved for your future husband? What would he say if he saw you explore yourself like this? Would he be disappointed in you? Or does he do it himself? Naked in his bed with his thigh muscles flexing as he feels what you are feeling right now? No, don’t think about him like that. 

Your thighs fall out to the sides on their own accord. You find the spot that makes you gasp softly, the night way too quiet for you to be making such a noise when others are sleeping soundly. You tip your head back to open your throat, hoping it will make you quieter as you play with the sensation between your legs. Are the Gods watching you? Are they the only ones who can understand the complexities of your mortal longings? Can they tell you what will happen on the other side of this tightening in your gut? 

Your breath quickens, shallow puffs of air coming out as you near the pinnacle quicker than ever. A noise close to the sound of a hurt animal escapes your lips and your fingers start to move in earnest, quickly back and forth over the little nub that you think is far too small to have such an effect on the rest of your body. How are you so soon covered in a sheen of sweat? How is your soul already teetering on ripping from your body, a mere vessel?

“Ah,” you moan a little louder, catching it in your throat by biting down on your lip. You feel the pleasurable buildup gradually increase in intensity and suddenly you’ve rolled around onto your front to grind your pelvis up and down on your fist. 

Marcus. Marcusmarcusmarcusmar—

No. Clarity comes to you right before you lose it, fear too as it feels like your spirit might leave your body completely. You force yourself to stop your hips’ rapid movements against your hand, surprised at how quickly the sensation of something so unfathomable can ebb away from your grasp. It leaves both a physical and emotional ache. You pant against the bed, nearly creating a damp spot where your mouth rests against the linen. 

You roll onto your back once more, wiping your slick fingertips on the sheets before pulling your tunic back into place around your thighs. You suddenly start to freeze, the air from outside your window starting to cool down the sweat on your skin. 

It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to drop again. Tomorrow, you will marry Marcus Acacius and a new chapter will begin - a chapter where the tingling ache between your legs will belong to him - but for now, you let the fatigue of managing to hold off lull you to sleep. 

You pull the covers up to your chin, feeling smaller like this but it doesn’t comfort you like it did when you were a mere child. You cannot stop the tears that spring to your eyes, starting as a tightening in your chest, a thick swallowing, only to come out in quiet sobs. 

You feel the drops slide down your face, running freely down to the sides of your cheekbones and over your ears. Your hair dampens slightly, your nose grows stuffy and sensitive but despite all the telltale signs of your distress, there’s mainly relief as you let go to cry harder about your new life.

.

.

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[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 5: Friday Night In✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I love this story so so much, and this chapter was the best to write 🥹 Joel is so soft for reader 😭 I can’t wait to bring you more of their slow burn journey 🩷

Chapter Summary: It’s just a misty November Friday night in, but Joel’s spending it with you as a movie night.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 5.3k

Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, protective! Joel, a little angst, lots of fluff and yearning, slow burn, Joel and reader have a movie night, lots of feelings, dual POVs, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is in his late 40’s)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 It’s just a casual Friday evening in Austin, one where you’re curled up on the couch and Joel’s on the opposite one adjacent to you. It’s become kind of a normal thing, maybe even something you’re comfortable with. Except this time you’re not reading a book, and he doesn’t have a newspaper or his phone in front of him. This time, the flat screen tv is flickering to life in front of you while the fire crackles and pops in the living room. This time, it’s a movie night. Something that he suggested to you first.

   “Why don’t you pick something out? Whatever you like.” He pushes the sleek black remote toward you on the coffee table, and you reach out and take it carefully.

   You slowly thumb through the movie channels, taking your time to read over and assess each title that comes up on the glow of the screen. Some are brand new, ones you’ve never heard of, but a lot of them are movies you’ve seen once upon a time ago. 

   You’ve been wondering what kinds of movies Joel’s into. He’s not usually the type to sit down and watch something. Not that you’ve seen, anyway. Sure, you’ve seen him click through the news a few times, maybe to see the weather report, but you’ve never seen him really sit down to indulge in any sort of show or movie. You wonder if he’s ever been into that. 

   You love movies. Movie nights used to be your favorite thing in the world. It used to be your safe place amongst the chaos at home. A place where you could hide and disappear into the screen for a few hours to escape the noise. You wonder if Joel ever does that when his job gets rough. He needs his own escapes too from the horrors he sees from his line of work. You wonder what brings Joel Miller peace. You have a feeling it used to be his guitar. The one he never plays anymore…

   Going back up the list, you pause when you see Gone with the Wind. That was always one of your favorites. One you’d keep going back to. You’d play it so many times that the DVD player eventually quit reading the scratched-up disk. It’s been such a long time since you got to watch it. So, so long.

   “You wanna watch that one?” Joel asks from the other leather couch. 

   You tap your thumb against the edge of the remote, nervously looking at him as if he’ll walk right out of the room if you say yes. It’s a romantic movie. Joel won’t want to watch that, would he?

   “Yes, if that’s okay with you. You can tell me if you don’t want to.” You flick your eyes back to him, watching as he leans back against the leather, one leg thrown over his knee, big arms crossed over his chest, pulling at the red flannel he has on. But he’s not frowning, he’s smiling. 

   “Sweetheart, I told you I’d let you pick. We can watch whatever you want. If you wanna watch Gone with the Wind, then that’s what we’ll watch. I meant it when I said whatever you want.” His kind brown eyes say the same. Whatever you want.

   You pull the wool blanket over your lap and click on the title, hovering over the play button as Rhett and Scarlett appear on the main menu. You glance back over to Joel and ask him once more, “You sure?”

   “Positive,” he answers automatically.

   “Okay then, Gone with the Wind it is.” As you tap on the start button, the movie comes to life instantly, playing back that old theme song that’s been ingrained in your brain all these years. A little spark of joy ignites in your mind. It’s like you’re back in your old bedroom, having a movie night with just yourself. Except now you have Joel.

   “Ya know, this isn’t my first time watchin’ this.”

   Your head snaps in his direction at his response. “You’ve watched this before?”

   “Once or twice,” he chuckles.

   “Twice?” you gawk, mouth open as if he just said pink was his favorite color.

   “What?” he laughs. “A guy can’t watch romance movies?”

   “Oh, no. Of course they can. I just didn’t pin you as a romantic movie type.”

   He shrugs and smiles. “Well, guess there’s still some things you don’t know about me, sweetheart.”

   “Guess you’re right.” Your eyes fall back on the colorful screen as the opening scene takes place. But you can’t quite shake what he just said. 

   After a few minutes of silence, except for the crackle of the fireplace and the voices on the screen, you say something a bit out of character. “I’d like to know.”

   “Hmm?” 

   You clear your throat and faintly turn your head toward him, afraid if you look him dead in the eyes you’ll chicken out. “I umm… I’d like to get to know you more, I mean.”

   He gives you an easy smile, one that tugs at the corners of his lips and makes his eyes sparkle. It makes your heart stop for a second. “That can be arranged, angel.”

   Angel. There’s that nickname again. One that sends your heart soaring out the window. 

   You turn back to the tv and readjust your position, pulling your knees against your chest and biting down on your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. God, you hope you’re not blushing. You’re definitely blushing. 

   You’re not just falling for Joel Miller. You’re crashing and colliding into the unknown. Forget airbags, they’d be no use to you now. He’s… perfect. 

   As Scarlett flashes across the screen, Joel scoots to the edge of the couch, grabbing your attention. “You want some popcorn?”

   “Only if you put extra butter on it for me.” 

   He chuckles a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “How’d I know you were gonna ask for that?”

   Shrugging your shoulders innocently, a shy smile curls across your lips. “Guess you just read me well.”

   He ticks his jaw and stares at you a second, a look like he is reading you. You don’t know why, but it makes butterflies flit through the pit of your stomach. “That I do. And ‘course, extra buttery popcorn comin’ right up for you, sweetheart. Let me go get it started.” He exits the room, taking his woodsy scent with him. 

   You fiddle with your bottom lip, focusing back on the colorful scenes on the screen, but all you’re really thinking about is how Joel is in the other room, making popcorn for the two of you. Going as far as getting you extra butter. But he’s always like that. Always going that extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. 

   He’s an acts of service kind of man. You see that now. Not just with you but with everyone. Even with all the girls he’s saved or his daughter or just someone he cares about. And that in itself tells you enough. He’s kind and caring, more so than you ever expected him to be. And somehow, he still surprises you every day.

   He slips back into the living room, two full glasses of water in hand, and then he’s setting one down on the coffee table in front of you. “Here ya go, sweetheart. Figured you’d need some water.”

   You reach out to take a swig and give him a smile after you swallow. “Like I said. Always think of everything, don’t you?” He only chuckles and takes a sip from his own glass, and then he’s sitting against the back of the couch, just waiting for the popcorn to be done cooking.

   A moment of silence slips across the room, only the low murmurs of voices floating through the speakers. You have this inkling in your chest to tell him something personal, something from your childhood. So, you do. “I used to love Friday nights. I’d always run home after school to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And then I’d stay up way too late watching old black and white romance movies. Sometimes I’d stay up the entire night and then pass out for half the day Saturday.”

   He rakes a hand over his dark scruff, eyes falling back on you as he chuckles. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer, huh? Sarah used to beg me to buy her the DVDs.”

   “Well, she’s got good taste.”

   He stretches his arms behind his head, adjusting his position on the leather. One leg crossed over the other, completely at ease in his own house. “Wasn’t half bad a show, actually.”

   “It was the best,” you confirm.

   He takes a good look at you, stretching his smile wider as one of his hands laces through his tousled locks. “So, you really like movies then?”

   “Mmm. I guess you could call it a safe haven. At least, it was for me.” You pause for a minute, watch his eyebrows knit as he registers the pain behind your eyes. “Mom and dad used to fight a lot. Sometimes all day long. So I kinda fell into a habit of locking myself in the bedroom with the tv turned up loud enough where I couldn’t hear them. It was either that or stay at a friend’s house.”

   He watches you carefully, his jaw twitching while he thinks before he speaks. “M’sorry ‘bout your parents, sweetheart.”

   You brush it off like it’s nothing. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

   “I’m also sorry for how you lost them,” he says slowly, like he’s watching you walk across a frozen lake that might open up and swallow you whole.

   Your eyes drop to the leather couch, fingers flexing around the warm wool blanket. If you don’t hold on to something, you might just fall through that icy lake that’s now cracking beneath you. “I lost them way before they died. Like I said, I’m used to being alone. Or I was…” You fight to hold in the tears. Instead of letting them go, you swallow them down and act like they were never there in the first place.

   Joel’s soft drawl makes you pull your eyes back up to him. And when you look into those caramel pools, you feel a sob get lodged in your throat. “Doesn’t add up to much, but you’ve got me now. Ya know, if you need me. You’re not alone anymore,” he murmurs quietly. You fear you’ll always need him now.

   You force out a smile, giving him the best one you can conjure up when you feel like you’re in pieces. “And that means the world to me, Joel.” He smiles in response and lets his gaze shift back to the movie that’s playing across the flat screen.

   Your imagination starts to tick in your mind, thoughts of Joel’s family suddenly flashing like a scene through the wires in your brain. Are his parents still around?

   Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you look back over his way and ask what’s on your mind. “Do you still see your parents?”

   His fingers flex around the leather as he cautiously looks up at you. “My dad moved up to Colorado to start a tree farm a few years ago. I see him when I can, but it’s not often. Not like when he used to live here. He calls a lot, so we do talk frequently. But it’s been a few months since I’ve seen him. And my mom…” He pauses for a beat, and you don’t miss that sparkle of a held back tear shimmer in his eye against the muted lighting. “She… she died of cancer right before Sarah was born.”

   The room is suddenly heavier as you digest the information, letting it hit you right in the heart where it hurts most. “Joel… I’m so sorry. That must’ve been an awful thing to go through.” 

   He nods slowly with heavy eyes. “It was. I really could’ve used her help with Sarah ‘cause her… Well, Sarah’s mom walked out on us about a month after Sarah was born.”

   Your eyes blow wide, and there’s nothing you can say to take that kind of pain away. You’re stunned in place. How could anyone ever leave him? 

   Shifting in your seat, you give him your most sincere, apologetic look you can muster up. “Oh, that’s… Joel. I don’t even know what to say.”

   He gives you a sad smile and shakes his head like he’s fine, but he’s not fine. You can see it deep in his brown eyes. “S’okay. You don’t gotta say anything. Happened a long time ago. And she never wanted to be a mother, so I should’ve known she’d do that. Still hurt like hell, but I was more torn apart for Sarah ‘cause she never got to have a mother, and she deserved one. She deserved a good mother.”

   And Joel deserved someone that loved him right…

   You pause and then whisper across the room, “If it’s any consolation, I think she has the best dad.”

   “Best dad, huh?” he chuckles out with his head cocked in question. The little sparkle in his brown eyes makes your heart stop for a beat. 

   You nod in agreement. “The very best. Even though I haven’t met Sarah, I know you love her very much. And from what you tell me, I know she loves you more than life itself.” 

   A warm smile cracks over his lips. “She is my world, and I do love her more than anything. Guess she’s kinda kept me in one piece all these years. Her and Tommy...”

   “She’s lucky then. Not everyone gets a loving father or just family in general.” Your eyes fall to the ground, locking on a tiny scratch that could have easily been missed by the naked eye. You just stare until your mind blurs together, until you forget exactly how badly your heart still hurts from your childhood. 

   Joel’s low timbre shakes you from past memories. Memories you don’t want to relive. “Sweetheart, I—” The faint beeping from the microwave interrupts his sentence, and you don’t dare let him finish. 

   “The popcorn’s done,” you breathe out, finally having the nerve to look up into those concerned pools of honey.

   “Right…” He looks at you for a beat like he wants to say something else, but he leaves it alone, and then he pushes himself up with a grunt. “Be right back.” He disappears into the other room, leaving you alone with the flickering tv screen and the lit sandalwood candle in the middle of the coffee table. 

   You get lost in the scene, silently laughing at all the men trying to win Scarlett’s affection. You feel a little lighter, a little less sad than you were mere seconds ago. The cozy wool blanket seems to help ease it away.

   It doesn’t take long to see Joel’s large figure reemerge in the living room. Butter and salt permeate through the air, feeding your hunger for a delicious movie snack. His large hand brushes past your knees and then he sets the bucket of fresh popcorn right in front of the coffee table for you. “Here ya go, sweetheart. Extra butter, jus’ like you like it.”

   You flash a smile his way. “Thanks, Joel.” He gives you a nod as he falls back into the leather of the couch, getting comfortable with a glass of iced water and the comfort of the television.

   Falling into a comfortable silence, you can’t help but keep a smile on your face as the movie plays on. This is actually the most relaxed since you’ve been here. It feels like a normal Friday night. No kidnappings, no auctions, no fears of being taken at any second. It’s just still and peaceful and warm. Like Joel’s big chocolate eyes. 

   As the movie goes on, you sneak a peek over at Joel, watching as he enjoys the film. His knees are spread wide, one hand perched on his thigh, the other resting comfortably on his cheek. He’s got a soft smile curved on his mouth, his eyes almost starry-like as pictures flick across the gold flecks in his eyes. He looks… happy, relaxed, like he’s enjoying this. 

   You get lost in the way his easy laugh floats across the room, get a bit dizzy as he laces his fingers through his salt-and-pepper locks. You’d like to do that one day, maybe. Run your fingers through his curls, let them sink and tangle around the dark strands. You’d like to try your luck when you’re brave enough. You guess you haven’t noticed before, or maybe you were too traumatized by fear. But right now, under the soft lighting of the living room, you realize he’s so beautiful. Inside and out. He’s perfect. 

   Joel breaks his contact from the tv and looks over in your direction. Like a mouse caught in a trap, you’ve just been caught red handed gawking at the very essence of him. Your cheeks flush red from being caught. Snapping your eyes right back to the television, you pretend you weren’t just caught in the spotlight. But there he is out of the corner of your eye chuckling under his breath. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to be found out.

   A few moments later, the urge for more salty goodness draws you to the popcorn bucket. You reach over, eyes still on the lit-up screen, and just as you slip your hand into the bucket, your fingers meet the back of a strong, calloused hand. Gasping, you snatch your arm back and break the connection of warm skin on skin. “Sorry,” you say hurriedly, apologizing for the meet of hands. 

   He lets out a soft chuckle and reels his hand back, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “S’alright. I don’t bite,” he smirks. And just by the flash of that mischievous smirk, your cheeks are painted crimson once again. 

   You fall back into a comfortable silence, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about how warm his hand was. Calloused and rough, but it felt… good. You secretly hope your hands meet again. Maybe you’d let yours linger a little longer this time. 

   The deep sound of Joel clearing his throat makes you turn toward him. “Ya know, if you wanted to, we could make movie night a weekly thing.”

   A hopeful smile stretches over your mouth. “You’d want to do that?” 

   He shrugs and grins. “Why not? I like movies and popcorn. And besides, I’m in good company.”

   He’s in good company. He likes watching movies with you. He likes spending time with you. Wait. He likes spending time with you?

   You let the thought churn in your head, letting it spin a few times to realize this is all real. You want to have movie nights with him. You want to spend more time with him. Maybe… maybe you like him too. “Okay. I’d like that a lot,” you smile just as you take a sip of cold water from your glass.

   “Friday nights work for you?” he asks. “Or would another night be better?”

   “Fridays are perfect.”

   “Looks like it’s settled then,” he smiles, crossing his arms behind his head, comfortably glancing over at you.  “I’ll write it on the calendar. Mark it in ink.”

   Mark it in ink. Permanent ink.

   Joel leans into the plush of the leather, legs spread comfortably, his palm gliding down the scruff of his beard. The tv flickers in the near distance, the fire crackling softly as warmth radiates through the open room. 

   When’s the last time he really sat down to watch a movie? Maybe when Sarah was back home. 

   His eyes trail over to you, not being able to help himself. His breath nearly catches when he sees the smile painted on your pretty mouth. Eyes wide and full of light as you watch the television with your soft blanket thrown across your lap. He’s never seen you look so… alive. 

   That’s it. That’s the word. You look so full of life, which makes a soft smile spread over his mouth, filling him with a warm fuzzy feeling buzzing in the base of his chest. 

   He loves to see it. Eyes sparkling like Christmas lights, hope saturated in your soft glow, hair thrown carefree across your shoulders. You. The perfect reflection of a bottle of hope.

   He’s so soft. Soft like melted marshmallows overflowing in a cup of hot chocolate. And that little flutter he gets in his chest every single time he sees a faint hint of a smile meet your lips makes him lose his balance, makes his axis tilt just a little off center. 

   He’s just so fucking soft... for you.

   Sighing, he lets his fingers drag slowly over his mouth as he watches you instead of the movie. Watching every turn of your head, every curl of your lips, every single fucking thing you do. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you. You’re just so… breathtaking. Not just that. He thinks you’re the most beautiful angel he’s ever seen.

   So fucking beautiful…

   He groans to himself, lets his head fall back so he can close his eyes and clear his racing mind. And through the thick fog, he finds his way back to you and your twinkling eyes. Finds the peace he needs to know you’re safe, you’re healing, and you’re going to be just fine one of these days. 

   For now, you’re safe and comfortable in the comfort of his space. One day you may drift away, might spread your gorgeous wings and fly far, far away. But deep down, he hopes you’ll stay. 

   Please, stay…

   “Joel?” you call, your head turning to look over at him while the movie runs.

   “Hmm?” he hums out, eyes looking into your sparkling ones.

   “Thank you for watching Gone with the Wind with me.” The softest of smiles curls over your pretty lips, making his heart skip a beat.

   He smiles over at you and falls a little more. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

   He loves watching movies with you.

   The end credits of the movie start rolling just as the clock strikes one in the morning. He rubs the backs of his hands over his eyes, fighting off a yawn as a wave of tiredness crashes against his body. Leaning forward, he pulls himself up and glances your way. “Sweetheart, that was—” He stops himself the second he sees you passed out, blanket up under your chin, soft breathing leaving your pretty lips. 

   A gentle smile spreads across his lips as if he’s seeing you in a new light. You’re so relaxed, so peaceful. No nightmares, no thrashing in your sleep. Just at ease. A calm serenity that surrounds you like a soft cloud. 

   Even though you look comfortable with your fingers curled around the wool blanket and your head pressed against the leather cushion, he really doesn’t want to leave you on the couch. You’d be more comfortable up in your own bed, tucked into your warm sheets. 

   He slowly makes his way over to you and crouches down to where he’s eye level with you, gently brushing his palm against your shoulder. “Sweetheart?” he asks quietly, hating to wake you up from a deep sleep.

   “Hmm?” you groan out, curling yourself into a ball as you tuck the blanket into the crook of your neck, too tired to open your eyes all the way. 

   “You fell asleep,” he says, voice low so he doesn’t disturb your peace.

   “What? No,” you shake your head, eyes still half closed, denying that you fell asleep. ”I saw the whole thing.”

   He chuckles and cards a hand through his tousled locks while he tries not to think about how adorable you’re being right now. “Afraid you fell asleep somewhere in the last half,” he says, remembering how you kept dozing off little by little as the clock got closer to midnight. 

   “I was still watching,” you pout with a puffy lip as you let out another tired yawn, stretching your arms like a napping cat.

   Christ. You’re adorable.

   “Oh, still watching, hm? Then how come your eyes were closed?” he chuckles softly.

   You grab for the remote but miss it by mere inches. “Just turn it back on. I’ll watch what I missed.”

   He clicks his tongue and grins from ear to ear. “Nuh-uh. It’s late. There’s always tomorrow.”

   “But I’m not tired,” you whine out, pouting your lips as your eyelids flutter closed. 

   Such a sleepy girl. 

   “Oh, yes you are,” he laughs, his voice bouncing off the walls as it ricochets and floats right back to him, making another giant grin curl over his mouth. 

   When did you become so… cute? Yeah, that’s what you are. Cute. Playful. Adorable. 

   “But I…” You try to protest, but he stops you before you can finish.

   “C’mon, sleepyhead. Let’s get you up to bed.” He scoops you up in his arms safely, holding you carefully so he doesn’t shatter or break you. He would never do that. Won’t even register the thought in his mind. You’re fragile, delicate like a flower, but he’ll always be so careful with you. Just like this. Right in his arms. As long as you’ll let him. 

   You don’t try to push away from him, you just let yourself fall into warmth. You just sink against his broad chest, let your dainty fingers curl into the cotton of his flannel, your face nuzzling snuggly into the crook of his neck. There’s no hesitation, no ounce of fear. Maybe you’re too tired to process his arms around you, hugging you like a thick jacket against his body. Or maybe it's because you’re starting to trust him, starting to see he really doesn’t want to hurt you. But maybe it’s because you just feel safe like this. Tucked against the body of a man that risked his life to save yours. Or maybe it’s because you don’t want him to let you go just yet. No. Maybe you’ll stay just like this. Your face tucked away into the collar of his flannel shirts that smell like him, pinewood scent surrounding you and covering you like a thick blanket you just don’t want to let go of. 

   So you stay. For now, you latch on like a magnet and let yourself drift to sleep. Because this feels good. This feels right. And in the thick haze, you let him hold you. Just this one time. Just for the moment. Because he feels like he was made to hold you just like this. 

   Joel tiptoes up the winding steps, careful not to jostle you awake, afraid he’ll disturb this guarded moment. Scared he’ll rustle you away from the peaceful slumber you’re in. 

   Carefully stepping down the dark hallway, he quietly opens your bedroom door and carries you to your comfy bed. With his arms folded like wings around you, he holds you close to his chest, guarding you with his life to make sure you feel safe. No more monsters to steal your soul. No more grabbing hands that lash and bite at you with razor-sharp fangs. No more slipping into darkness while they take what isn’t theirs. No more taking advantage of the delicate flower who lost all her vivid petals. Petals you’re slowly growing back.

   He takes one hand and pulls back the purple comforter, untangling your silky sheets while he keeps one flexed arm around you. When he makes enough space for you to slip in, he gently nudges your shoulder to let you know you’re back in your room, and you have to let go. 

   He doesn’t want to let you go. Not just yet, but he can’t be selfish. Can’t keep you to himself. 

   Your slow breaths blow against his neck, fingers lock tighter around his favorite flannel. It’s like you don’t want to let go either.

   “Gotta let go, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, careful again not to disturb you. But you don’t jar awake, only fold tighter into the crook of his neck till your light breaths kiss the shell of his ear. 

   He sighs and carefully untangles you from his arms, gently laying you down into the safety of your bed. He chuckles quietly to himself when your hand still doesn’t register to let go. So slowly, unwantedly, he delicately pries your fingers from his shirt and places your hand softly on the bed. He already misses the warmth of your palm, misses the way you oh so carelessly just folded your weight into him. 

   He thinks he likes that. Holding you in his arms where you’re safe, where you’d be out of reach from anyone that wanted to hurt you. He thinks he could hold you forever just like that. If you were ever his, he would until you told him to stop.

   God. How could anyone have hurt you? You’re so… precious. Just like a gemstone. So delicate and rare and special. So just like the most unique diamond in the world, he’ll make sure you stay safe. 

   He lingers on the edge of the bed, carefully tucking the blanket up over your shoulders, making sure you’re warm and comfortable. He watches you turn ever so slightly his way, but your eyelids don’t flutter open. You just hum softly and fall back into whatever peaceful dream you’re having. 

   Without thinking, he gently grazes the tips of his fingers against a lock of your hair, feeling how soft and velvet-like it feels against the pad of his thumb. He ever so slowly slips the lock of hair behind your ear, letting the back of his knuckles graze your cheek as he takes in the faint blush of your skin.  

   “You’re so beautiful…” he silently whispers, the words floating effortlessly off the tip of his tongue as he stares in awe at the stunning angel that’s safe in his presence. 

   He stays like that another few seconds, until he finally pushes himself off the bed and makes his way to the door, his eyes on you the entire time he moves.

   Beautiful… you’re so fucking beautiful. 

   He said he’d never fall for one of the women he saved. That was never his intention, but what’s this? Sweeping back a piece of your hair, lingering his fingers on your smooth skin, telling himself how stunning he thinks you are, praying you won’t get out of bounds of him. 

   It’s like a slow burn candle, flame flickering in and out against the wind rushing in from the crack in the window. Wax slipping down the wick, the flame still burning bright while the air tries to blow it out till it’s nothing but smoke and memories. 

   That’s what this is. A slow burn of feelings that’s threatening to snap any day now. He’s getting attached, and he doesn’t know if he can stop them from growing into something he can’t control anymore.

   He should pull the reins back, stop whatever this is that’s starting to ignite between the two of you, but he can’t seem to blow out the flame. He can’t seem to stop wanting you…

   Maybe it’s the way you wear his flannels around the house, or maybe it’s the shy smiles and the way you nervously flutter your long eyelashes at him when you try to hide your gorgeous smile, maybe it’s even the way you make this house feel more like a home instead of an empty nest. You make him feel not so alone, and your company is something he doesn’t want to lose. 

   He doesn’t want to lose you… So maybe you’ll stay. He hopes you’ll stay. For as long as possible. Because if you choose to leave, which you probably will one day, he’ll surely lose a piece of himself the day you do.

   Stay. Please… just stay. 

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[anne-chloe]

Imagine : Peter chooses you to be the Lost Boys’ mother

Summary : Peter Pan is fed up of hearing the younger Lost Boys cry for their mothers at night. When his shadow steals a 6 year old boy, Peter commands the shadow to take the boys sister too. You.

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning : manipulation, toxic behaviour, kidnapping

You could remember it like it was yesterday.

The shadow that crept in through your little brother’s bedroom. It had moved with such inhuman speed that it just didn’t seem possible. You had tried to protect Martin from being kidnapped into the night, but you were unaware of its intentions to take you too.

And so you were taken to Neverland, a world where children would never grow up. A world where an immortal boy ruled with cruelty and an iron fist.

Peter had greeted you with a smile so sinister it made you nauseous. “Welcome to Neverland,” he said with a chuckle, “the boys have been waiting for you.”

You had followed him, with Martin holding your hand, all the way back to his camp. There were boys of various ages scattered around a campfire, all talking amongst themselves, some soaking up the quiet and others causing chaos.

But the moment Peter stepped beyond the tree line, silence fell. The Lost Boys stood to attention and watched as Peter approached. “Boys, I promised you a mother, and I’ve picked the finest one.”

You.

You were to be their mother.

You rejected the responsibility at first. You stood your ground and you argued with Peter. “I’m not staying here, and neither is Martin. We have a mother at home, and you stole us from her.”

Peter closed the gap between you and him, his smile dropping and his brows furrowing into a deep, irritated frown. “Unlucky for you, no one leaves Neverland without my permission. I chose you to be their mother. So be a good girl and play the role.” Peter then looked to Martin, his green eyes glowing with something sinister and unrecognisable. “Or else there’ll be consequences.”

You hesitantly stepped into the role. The older Lost Boys weren’t fussed about calling you their mother, which you honestly were grateful for. But as time went on, and the days turned to weeks, and soon into months, none of the Lost Boys addressed you by your name.

“Mother,” Devin called out one evening. He held up his hand to reveal a squirrel he had caught during his hunt, a proud smile on his face. “I know you asked for rabbit, but none of them fell into my trap. Will a squirrel be okay for dinner?”

You gratefully plucked the squirrel from his hand. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Mother, I’m hungry,” Tommy whined, his hands holding his stomach as he stepped towards the campfire. “How much longer until we eat?”

You stirred the pot of stew carefully, it’s delicious aromas filling the evening air. “Soon, Tommy. Have patience, sweetie.”

“Mother?”

Martins voice was enough to make you choke on air.

You stopped stirring the stew and turned slowly to peer at your younger brother. He stood amongst the Lost Boys, his eyes large and innocent. “What did you just call me?” You slowly asked, your heart feeling incredibly heavy in your chest.

Martin stepped closer, his head tilting to the side, like he was confused. “Mother,” he repeated, sounding certain of himself.

“Martin…” you whispered, reaching your hands out and gently taking him by the arms. You knelt down so you were eye-level with him. “I’m your sister. I’m not your mother.”

Martin frowned, conflicted. “Then who is my mother?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but found the words stuck in your throat. The desperate, confused expression only served to shatter your heart completely, and you didn’t have the courage to stomp on his tangled thoughts.

You dropped the conversation and finished preparing dinner. You ensured all the boys were fed before seeking out Peter, who was a small distance from the camp and overlooking the bay from a great height.

You approached him, hands wringing your dress nervously. “Peter?” You called out, hesitant and fearful for how the conversation would end. “I… I need to speak with you.”

Peter, who was perched on a branch high in a tree, turned his gaze downwards to look at you. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What is it, [Name]?” He asked.

You were unsure of where to start. You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves. “I want to go home.”

Peter’s smile dropped into a frown. He slowly dropped from the tree, landing effortlessly in front of you. His head tilted to the side, like he was a confused puppy, but you knew better than to mistake his expressions for anything other than cruel.

“You are home,” Peter pointed out.

You gently shook your head. “No, I mean I want to go home to the place you took me from. I want to go back to my own mother.”

Peter moved closer to you, his frown deepening. “And why would you want that?”

You struggled to keep steady. You fought the urge to shuffle back, to maintain a safe distance. But Peter would never take you seriously if you showed any fear. “I miss my mother, Peter. Martin, he…” you hesitated, struggled to finish the sentence.

Peter raised a curious brow. You didn’t even need to finish the explanation, because it was suddenly as though Peter knew anyway. His smile returned, and a deep chuckle vibrated his chest. “Oh, I see. Martin called you mother, didn’t he?”

Your silence only confirmed Peters guess.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Peter pressed, smirking playfully at you. “The boys adore you. I couldn’t have picked a better mother if I tried.”

“I don’t want to be Martins mother,” you whispered defiantly. Your fists shook at your sides, though you were unsure if it was from fear or frustration. “He doesn’t remember our mother. It’s not fair.”

Peter scoffed. “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

Peter turned to walk away, a clear indication that he was finished with the conversation. But you reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing him to stay and look at you.

“I’m begging you, Peter. Let me go home. Let me take Martin back home.”

Peter moved close to you, his nose almost touching yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes, so cold and cruel, bore into your own. “Nobody leaves Neverland without my permission. You aren’t leaving, ever. You’re the mother to my lost boys. You’re going to be their mother forever, whether you like it or not. And if you continue to defy me, I’ll lock you in a cage and throw away the key, and you’ll never see Martin again. Do you understand?”

You gasped and stumbled away, a sob catching in your throat from the cruel threat. “I understand,” you choked out, tears appearing in your eyes. “I won’t ask again. I promise.”

Peter snickered a laugh. “Good. Perhaps you should return to the lost boys now, before they start calling for their mother again, hmm?”

[ln4smiamitrophy]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ————— part 1

𐙚 summary; the one where lando norris reunites with his childhood love at the Monaco Grand Prix and is convinced he’s over her. after all, it’s been 7 years. he can’t still love her, right?

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x influencer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; jadeybird on ig

⭒ type; irl x smau (there will be more smau in later parts)

⟡ a/n; i’ve come to realise that there aren’t many stories on here where the reader is mid/plus-sized. as a mid/plus-size girl myself, i personally can find it upsetting when there is mainly only representation of the body types that society deems to be conventionally attractive and not a lot of representation of others, they are common body types and they are attractive. i have struggled with body image in the past and i still do on occasion, if anyone who reads this ever needs anyone to talk to about this or literally anything else, feel free to message me and i’ll always get back to you. love you all, you beautiful people xx

comment to be added to my tag list <3

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Lando Norris loved the Monaco Grand Prix. Who didn’t? The history behind the race, the atmosphere, it was overall an amazing experience every year. And best of all, he was able to stay at home. When travelling so often meant never staying in one place too long, he was grateful for one time a year he could sleep in his own bed the night before a race.

It was race day and, as per, the track was as chaotic as usual. From the mechanics frantically checking to make sure the cars were ready for the race to the fans filling the track to the brim, it was hard to get a moment alone. In fact, Lando had barely had one since he stepped foot on the track. He’d been pulled into meetings and interviews left, right and centre.

Amongst all the chaos he finally has some time to himself as he heads to the track for the national anthem. He’s walking in silence, head down as he makes his way over. He keeps going over the strategy for the race in his head, he’s starting in p4. Overtakes are hard on this circuit, everyone knows that. All Lando wants this race is to preserve his tyres and hold his position.

It’s like the universe made it happen. Just as he lifted his head up, he’s met with someone he never thought he’d see again. Y/n. His first true love. They were together for three years, but when it became abundantly clear that Lando would be joining Mclaren for the 2019 formula one season, they couldn’t deal with the consequences that brought for their relationship, and ultimately it ended.

She doesn’t see him, and he’s almost relieved she didn’t. It’s been seven years since the end of their relationship, and yet upon seeing her he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she is. She’s changed, naturally, they were just teenagers when they separated. But she’s still as breathtaking as he remembers. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. He pushes these feelings down, repressing them as much as he can as he finds his spot on the carpet and the national anthem begins. He needs to focus on the race.

———————————————————————

78 laps later and he was p4. Lando knew he probably wasn’t going to gain any positions during the race due to the circuit but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself. Ever since his first win in Miami, since he was finally able to prove that he can win races, he’s craved it again. That feeling when he passed the checkered flag in first place, he wanted it again. It’s natural in his line of work to want to be the best, he’s surrounded by 19 other drivers who all want to be on that top step every weekend. But his teammate was p2, he was proud of him. Overall a good weekend for the team.

After the race was just as chaotic as the start, between interviews and press conferences and briefings, the only quiet time Lando gets is in between them. So that’s what he’s doing. Walking in silence towards the interview pen as his pr manager talks in his ear. He’s not paying attention to where he goes and so of course he has to walk into someone.

“Sor-“ He says looking up at them, expecting to send a small smile their way before continuing but that’s not what happens. “Y/n..”

“Lando…” Her voice is still as soft as it was all those years ago. He just gazes at her and neither makes a move to look away. That is until she clears her throat, looking down.

“How’ve you been?” Lando asks, a feeble attempt to get her to stay just a little longer. He doesn’t want her to walk away just yet. Just a moment longer.

“I’ve been well,” Glancing back up at him and he can tell she’s hesitant, he doesn’t blame her. Breathing out, she sighs before she speaks once more, “I watched Miami, congratulations on your first win.”

She still watched, she’d watched him win. He doesn’t quite know why he thought she wouldn’t; she’d always had a love for motorsports. It’s one thing they bonded over as teens.

“Thank you,” He can’t help the soft smile that graces his face. Lando mentally curses himself for glancing over her shoulder, being met with the slightly annoyed face of his pr manager. He should be in the pen by now.

He looks back at her, nodding. “I should probably go… it was good to see you.” She just nods at him, smiling softly, watching as he walks away.

Arriving at the pen, Lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself back into the driver headspace.

———————————————————————

Five hours later and he’s stood in a club, music blasting, bodies dancing all around him and he’s stood nursing the same drink for the past 20 minutes, taking with George. Normally Lando loves a party, out of the whole driver grid he’s the one you’re most likely to spot coming in and out of clubs on a Sunday night. But tonight he’s just not in the mood and he just can’t figure out why. Though he has reason to believe it’s got something to do with the girl he can spy dancing over George’s shoulder.

He can’t help but let his eyes dart towards her every couple minutes. He watches as she dances surrounded by people, laughing and smiling without a care in the world: he used to be able to make her do that. The countless nights they’d spend wrapped up in each other, talking about whatever came to mind, the soft giggles she’d let out anytime Lando said something even remotely funny as his hands would occupy themselves in her hair. They all came back to him as he watched her.

Clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink, he turns to George, dismissing himself before heading to the bar and deciding he was going to drink away the thoughts of the girl that was seemingly occupying his mind like a plague. He certainly does just that and three hours later, Lando is black out drunk basically lying down in the back of a taxi as Carlos sits there with him, making sure he gets home safely.

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A groan immediately falls from Lando’s mouth as he wakes up with a hangover straight from hell. He buries himself under his duvet until he finally decides he needs something for the pain. Peeling the duvet off of his body, he stands up, jumping slightly at his phone ringing. It’s Carlos.

“Please remind me to never drink again,” Lando states the moment he answers the phone and he’s met with Carlos laughing into his ear.

“It’s that bad?” The spaniard asks and Lando can hear his smirk down the phone. Letting out a grumbled “yes” Lando drags himself into the bathroom where he keeps his painkillers.

“What even happened?” Carlos questions him, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna drink much?”

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, swallowing the painkillers, finishing the glass of water. He’s lying. He knows why but he’s not going to tell Carlos that.

His mind drifts back to the short conversation he had with her the day before. The way she danced in the club. The way she laughed. Her smile. Shaking his head, he pushes it down. He ends the phone call with Carlos, making the excuse he’s going back to bed, hoping to sleep off the hangover.

But he can’t get back to sleep, he’s never been able to fall back asleep after waking up, envying people who find it so easy. After 10 minutes of trying, he finds himself hauling himself into his living room, sprawling out on the sofa and watching whatever Netflix recommends him.

He has no clue what he’s watching but then again, he’s not really paying attention. His mind kept travelling back to her. No matter what he tried. He told himself it was just shock. The shock of seeing her again. And before he knew it, he was opening instagram, typing in her name and clicking her most recent post.

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y/nusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and others

tagged yourbff, scuderiaferrari

y/nusername monaco, you are so sexy

thank you @scuderiaferrari for the invite <3

comments…

yourbff girls trips with you are the best <3

⤷ y/nusername i love you <3

user1 y/n being an f1 girlie is literally the best thing to ever happen to me

user2 y/n just proving “hot girls love f1” to be true

scuderiaferrari loved having you around

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ y/nusername loved being around

alexandrasaintmleux loved meeting you, we need to hang out again!!

⤷ y/nusername you’re an angel, we need to!!

user3 i wanna party with y/n so bad

⤷ user4 me too!! she’s deffo the most fun ever

yourfriend1 missing you :/

⤷ y/nusername missing you more honeybun

user5 lando in the likes??

⤷ user6 he’s in the likes but they don’t follow each other

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part 2 soon !!

taglist; @soamericn @urfavwelshie @realcherryjam @danielshoe @coastalrainae

[msfantasy-anime]

PDA

Various BNHA x Softgirl!Reader

Summary: a short headcannon on Y/n who is usually shy, expressing PDA to her boyfriend.

You don’t even know them, but as you stand in your friends house party, you couldn’t help but watch a young couple, where the woman is smiling so sweetly up at her boyfriend, as he returns his loving gaze. The two continue to embrace each-other as he lightly grazes her lower back. So enraptured by each other, they clearly have detached from reality as they are lost in each others arms. The sea of people continue to move around them, but the couple pay no mind to the social chaos around them. They are lost in each others eyes, silently conversing their emotions wordlessly.

The intensity of their passions leave you longing. Why don’t you have that with you boyfriend?

You wished greatly that someone in the crowd would look at you and your boyfriend, and see your love so vividly.

You and your boyfriend have been dating for years at this point and people still ask if your dating or act surprise to hear your still going strong.

A pang of longing hits your heart.

You yearn deeply to feel and show off that level of passion. But what’s preventing you?

In a moment of inebriated courage, your on a mission to find your boyfriend. There you spot him standing amongst a circle of men, conversing.

Walking up behind your boyfriend and tugging at the elbow of his jacket.

Seeing your determined eyes, he tilts his head down, moving his ear closer to hear you better. But instead of uttering a single word, your rock onto your toes and press your lips to his cold cheek. Making him…

Izuku Midoriya

Blush and chuckles from your unexpected affection.

He’s not embarrassed, and he pays no mind to anyone else at this moment.

His darling girlfriend is giving him PDA, something she’s never initiated.

And something Izuku made sure never to do, as to not put you in an uncomfortable position.

But right now, looking down at your cute face filled with glaring determination.

His heart can’t help but swell at your unyielding cuteness.

Izuku: “Do you feel like going?”

Katsuki Bakugo

He looks at you expressionless.

His lips parted as he holds a hand to his recently kissed cheek.

His mind goes blank before a flood of thoughts swirl through his head.

Furiously blushing Katsuki turns as red as a street light.

Katsuki: “Eh-what the hell was that for?!”

He’s acting as if you slapped him.

His embarrassment radiating off him.

Why the hell are you going around kissing him in public for?!

Katsuki: “Come ‘ere brat, you and I are gonna have a talk about public decency!”

He proceeds to lecture you outside of the house, where there are no prying ears.

Katsuki: “Damnit brat! You can’t going around kissing me in front of these losers! That’s private, ya’know.”

Eijiro Kirishima

Smile softly at your sweet gesture.

You’ve always been shy about PDA with him, so he’s a little caught off guard by your actions.

Kirishima: “Common- let’s go home yeah?”

Shota Aizawa

Continue standing there indifferently.

He take another slurp of his drink as he looks down at you watching your face distort from determination to reassignment.

His silly girlfriend is looking so cute.

He’s kinda curious to know what this was all about… but then again… he wants to see what else you’ll do.

Hizashi Yamada

Shout in surprise.

Hizashi: “WOW!”

Hizashi’s very vocal reaction causes a few to break conversation and look over to the two of you to see what’s going on.

You immediately regret everything as Hizashi begins to loudly praise your cuteness.

[flamingoofeathers]

𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗭𝗩𝗢𝗨𝗦 || 𝗝.𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗞

pairings: james hook x peterpansister!reader

summary: in the stories we were told, Peter Pan and Captain Hook were enemies, no one knew why, but this story shows why.

genre: fluff, angst (a tinsy bit for now)

one-shot; wc: 2.3k

main masterlist james hook masterlist

requested by @stargener

a/n: this is a 2 part series! ALSO THANK YOU FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS LIKE WHAT!? TYSM!! To those who care, i am feeling a lot better now, i can stand up without getting dizzy now, so thats really good!:) also not proofread.

Amongst all the tale told in the kingdom of Auradon, there a tale shunned away from everyone, a tale that defied their ideals of 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 and 𝗯𝗮𝗱. The story of the young Captain Hook and his romance with Y/n, Peter Pan’s sister.

Long before he become the fearsome Captain, James Hook, was just a boy attending Merlin Academy, a bully some may call him but in this specific tale, he was just a boy in love with someone he couldn’t have.

Meanwhile, Y/n Pan, Peter's younger sister, was a spirited and adventurous girl. Unlike Peter, who reveled in the chaos of boyhood, Y/n had a curiosity for the world beyond the walls of the Academy.

She often wandered away from campus, exploring the secret and forbidden places that the world offered.

Their paths crossed on their first year at Merlin, on the Black Lake. It was when Hook wasn’t acquainted with the VK’s yet. James, missing the comfort of his ship back home, had seen the lake with a neglected boat.

Oh how innocent and sweet James was, if only people remembered this part of him.

James got into the boat, rowing towards the middle, he closed his eyes, feeling the soft breeze of the cold wind, the slight swinging of the boat was enough for him to feel the nostalgia of home.

During this peaceful escapade of James, he was spotted by Y/n as she swam around the lake. Intrigued by the sight of a newcomer, she approached him cautiously.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and wonder, as she snuck up on the poor boy.

“Bloody hell!” James yelled staring at the girl staring at him from the water “what the hell!? what are you doing in the water!?” James asked looking over the water.

“Going for a swim, as you can see. What are 𝘆𝗼𝘂 doing here?” The girl inquired leaning on the boat, James scrabbled to get back as the boat drop down on the side of the girl.

“A swim!? This lake is deep” James said agasp, cuz the lake is indeed deep, the girl knew that.

“It is, but not if you have some pixie dust that helps you” the girl chuckled. “Pixie dust? Doesn’t make you fly?” James said confused “it does.” The girl said showing him as she floated above the water.

“Oh.” James said in realisation “still. its the middle of the night, who goes for a swim at midnight?” He asked trying to avoid her question.

“Well…who goes in the middle of the lake and just close their eyes at midnight?” Y/n said raising her brow at him, who looked away.

James stayed silent, embarrassed and not knowing what to say, while the girl stared at him….𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 him.

“You miss home?” Y/n said with understanding tilting her head, trying to make eye contact.

James stared at the girl with surprise “yeah, you too?”

“Yeah”

Both remained silent, catching the longing in each others tone

“I’m James Hook”

“Y/n Pan”

As days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, Y/n and James found themselves drawn to each other. They both shared stories of their daily routine, their home, the adventures they had…and soon something blossomed between the two of them.

It was the last night of school, before summer break and the two spent the night talking just as they did the whole year.

Things have changed, Hook had found himself friends and y/n did as well. In front of the whole school they were enemies, prey and predator, but in the quite hours of the night, they were just James and Y/n, not what they 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 to be, but just the way 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙚.

“Your brother is just sooo fucking annoying” James groaned throwing his head back as he sat on the shore of the lake.

Y/n chuckled as she searched for sea glasses “why do you hate him so much?”

“Because he 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 me, for what reason? I dont know, one day he just started acting all” James said irritated as he moved his hands around expressing his dislike towards the brother of the girl.

Y/n watched him with a smile on her face, she found their hatred towards each other to be a funny thing.

“You hate my brother but you seem to like me so much, i mean, we’re kinda the same person if you really think about it” Y/n said, teasing the hooked boy.

“don’t even start. You’re different from your brother, you’re kind and sweet, you’re brother is frustrating, big headed and irritating” James said.

“I don’t know how people believe that bad boy act of yours.” Y/n said leaning down towards Hook “you’re just a softie” she giggled pinching his cheeks.

“Ow. Ow. Stop that. Plus, we already talked about this, i need to keep up the act or else Uliana and the rest will just make fun of me” James said.

“Like how they make fun of me?” The mood dropped.

“Hey…no, c’mon, don’t do that”

“Yeah yeah im just messing with you” Y/n joked “it’s like 3 a.m. now, i think we should head back now” Y/n said checking her watch.

“It’s our last night together, can’t we stay any longer?” Hook pleaded holding Y/n’s hand, still sitting down.

Y/n leaned down and touched James cheeks “i want to, but we need to be up at 5 to get ready for departure, we need sleep”

They stared at each others eyes, neither of them wanted to go back, they wanted this night to last forever.

“We’ll see each other again next year” Y/n whispered making Hook sigh “you’re right.”

They walked through the woods, chatting, both dreading their arrival to campus. As the campus comes to view, the two unconsciously slowed their steps.

They stood in front of the “Merlin Academy” sign, fidgeting in their spot, hesitant to walk away from each other.

“I’ll see you in three months, James” Y/n said breaking the tension as she hugged the boy who hugged her back tightly, afraid to let her go. “Write me letters, yeah?” Hook mumbled into the girls neck.

They pulled back slightly, still embracing each other, their faces inches away “i will and you write back” the girl smiled as the fully pulled away.

“Good Night, James.” As Y/n was about to walk away, a hand caught hers stopping her.

“I have something to tell you” Hook said nervously.

“What is it?” Y/n said, she was hoping for it to be what she wanted to hear.

“I- well… uhh, i kinda-“ Hook stuttered

Y/n looked at the boy anticipating.

“You know what, i’ll tell you next year” James said kissing the girls cheek before rushing away.

The girl stood there stunned touching her cheek.

“What the fuck”

They had kept their promises, wrote to each other whenever they can, careful not to get caught.

Y/n’s brother, Peter, had caught on the weird behaviour of his younger sister, he brushed it off that she was excited to see her friends again but he had an inkling feeling that there was something or someone else.

The first day back at school, Y/n searched and searched amongst all the student at arrival for a certain black haired boy.

As they made eye contact, it felt as if the world stopped and it was just the two of them, their eyes sparkled at the mere sight of the other, they smiled at each other, lost in the moment neither of them realised the moving crowd.

Hook frantically looked around before turning to the girl once more mouthing “𝘭𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵." as he got lost in the busy crowd.

“Y/n!” She heard as a hand gripped her shoulder, turning around seeing her brother looking at her “we need to go. c’mon, we’ll be late for the ceremony” Peter said dragging her along.

That night, Y/n had snuck out to see Hook at the Black Lake.

As she got closer to the lake, a figure she had missed to see for months came in to view. The hooked figure stood there under the majestic light of the moon. She paused to stare at the man she had unknowingly fell in love with over the course of last year.

James, sensing someone behind him, turned to see the girl that kept him up every night, the girl he sees every time he dreams, standing there as if the world around her shimmered with an ethereal glow. Her presence alone felt almost otherworldly.

James stared as she approached, simply admiring her beauty, she wore a dress that night, it draped over her, highlighting her every movement with a gentle sway.

“If i had known you were gonna be all dressed up, then i would’ve cleaned myself up better” James teased making the girl chuckle.

“Please, you look fine” she smiled as she came face to face with the boy “my brother organised a ‘welcome back’ party in the boys dorms” she explained.

They stared at each other, a silence filled with unsaid words circled them.

“I missed you” Y/n smiled leaning to hug the boy.

“I missed you too” James said hugging the girl back, inhaling her scent, engraving the smell into his head.

“Three months without was boring” Y/n chuckled as they pulled back.

“Yeah well, i do have that effect on people” James joked waving her off “wow. Nevermind, i take it back, I don’t miss you at all” Y/n said turning away from him pretending to walk away “Hey now.” James said pulling her back in by the wrist “i was just kidding” he said.

“Boat ride?” James asked as he lead her towards the boat they use “do i have a choice?” Y/n teased “No, not really” James teased back as he guided the girl into the swaying boat by the hand.

They chatted about their summer adventures while James rowed the boat to the middle of the lake, where they first met.

“I mean, i know right, he could’ve dodged the ball but he stayed there basically wanting to get hit” Y/n chuckled talking about the recent tourney games.

“Exactly, dramatic much” James chuckled.

Their laughs faded away slowly, both settling in a comfortable silence.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember what i said before break?”

“Yeah” Y/n replied, on full alert, she had been waiting to talk about this for months but now that it’s happening, she’s scared.

“That i’ll tell you when we got back?”

“Yeah?”

“Well…” James knew that there was no turning back now, he had to do it.

He took a deep breath, taking her hands in his, he looked into her eyes, which reflected the colors of the evening sky “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for awhile now. Every moment spent with you feels like magic and i find myself falling for you even more as days go by. You’ve become my most cherished thought and my deepest dream. When i’m with you i feel like i discover a new part of myself — a part only 𝘆𝗼𝘂 can bring out. Your laughter, your kindness and the way you see the world have captivated me. Life can be unpredictable but the one thing i’m certain of are my feelings for you. Being with you feels like coming home.” He paused gathering his thoughts “what i’m trying to say is: i am completely and irrevocably in love with you.” James let out after so long of hiding it, a weight lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced with the fear of rejection, of loosing her.

He looked at her eyes and saw the unshed tears swimming in them. He waited for a response or a sign that he hadn’t made a mistake, but he was met with silence. The girl was overwhelmed, she knew it was coming, but she didn’t know it was gonna be like this. She stared at the boy she fell in love with, unable to form words, her mind was in a mess, reliving every memory with him, a tear left her eye and cascaded down her cheek.

“James…i-“ she got cut off.

“And i know, that our situation makes it hard for us, every rule, every boundary, every expectation from the world around tells us we can’t be together. I can’t give 𝙪𝙨 up, Y/n, i just ca-“

She didn’t let him finish. In one swift motion, she leaned in and captured his lips in a sudden yet heartfelt kiss. They were lost in the intensity and the passion of the kiss, the world fading into the background. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands cupping her face.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces inches from each other, they were both breathless. His eyes searched hers, his panic driven mind long gone, replaced by a newfound warmth.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that” her voice trembled “i always felt like you felt the same but i was so scared that i would loose you if i had said something and so I didn’t, but god, James! I am so in love with you” Y/n said leaning in once more.

Both of them savouring the moment, lost into the magic that had sparked between them.

Neither of them noticed the figure that lurked above them.

“𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧" y/n whispered into the soft silence.