#I will cry if they don’t see each other tomorrow.

[echoalyssa]

No Love | Dick Grayson

“You’re falling in love.” He whispers.

My heart throbs wildly in my chest and I glance away, hoping he won’t catch the swirl of emotions in my eyes.

I can’t confirm or deny his statement.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck. “I think you’re way past that.”

My eyes start to water and I clamp down on my lip. “It’s been a year…”

Dick’s jaw works. “What do you want from me?”

I look everywhere but at him, knowing that the second our eyes connect I’ll burst into tears.

I’m his little solider. I don’t cry. He doesn’t want me to cry.

“I don’t want anything from you… I just, I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you but I do and you don’t feel the same and-“ I pause to wipe furiously at my eyes. “I’m upset and I know you don’t understand but I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“You are.” He leans forward, rubbing my knee with the thumb of his left hand. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. Everything was fine.”

I risk a glance up and the concern in his irises make my heart clench.

“I don’t know. I r-really don’t. I just… I don’t understand why you don’t love me.”

He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me.

“Y/N… I care about you. I do. I don’t love people.”

“Neither do I!” My voice is louder than I intend it to be and I start to cry. “I didn’t hear those words for years growing up. I-I can count on one hand how many people I love in this world and you’re one of them. You don’t love me.”

Dick grimaces. He means well. He wasn’t behaving any differently than what the two of us had talked about when the whole ‘friends with benefits’ situation arose. I was the one that had caught feelings.

I love his friends. I love his family. I love the life we have together. I love our dynamic and his passion for the things he cares about. I love him. Almost painfully.

Dick had done nothing wrong and yet it felt like he had stabbed me through the heart. We had talked about this. Like mature adults. We’d laid down our ground rules and expectations.

We had different views for our futures. And because I loved him it meant knowing that he deserved more than a future with me.

To fall in love was to accept weakness. To have someone who can be used against you.

Still, I can’t help but ask the question because hope is a dangerous thing. “Do you think that’s going to change? Could you see y-yourself on the same level as me ever?”

Dick crosses the distance in half a stride and then he’s cradling my head to his chest, carting his fingers through my hair.

“I couldn’t even tell you how I’ll feel tomorrow. One day at a time remember?”

The tears fall heavier and I hiccup because he’s crushing me and it’s not even his fault.

“Don’t cry baby. Please don’t cry. Just enjoy being in the moment with me.”

It feels like the world is coming to an end. They say to love someone is to surrender complete control of your feelings and that’s true.

I let him hold me but inside I shatter. How could two people so perfect for each other not be together? How could he invest this much time into me and not love me? How could he look at me and touch me the way he did and not love me?

“It’s okay.” He murmurs but it’s anything but okay.

[gregmarriage]

i should probably stop trying so hard to have a best friend, and face facts; that my baby brother is already my best friend

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[swuumi]

you wondered who was ringing your doorbell at 3:45 in the morning.

you opened the door only to find your ex boyfriend, kento.

“kento? what are doing here? and are you... drunk?”

“i miss you. i miss us. i thought that if i stayed with you, i was only gonna put you in... hic... danger. i regret that decision so much. please, i need you. i need you in my arms again...”

kento could cry right now.

“you’re just drunk, kento. you probably don’t mean any of those...” tears threatening to fall.

“i mean it wholeheartedly. take... hic... take me back, please...”

only you have seen kento during his vulnerable state. you know him too well, you knew that kento is the most honest person especially when he’s drunk.

“it’s okay if you don’t wanna take me back... just, let me be in your arms for tonight...”

you heave out a long sigh as you took him in. guiding him into your once shared bedroom.

you were both laying on the bed, reminding you of your shared moments with him when you two were still together.

“thank you for this, sweetheart.”

sweetheart.

a familiar endearment that kento used a lot on you. one that you loved the most.

“let’s talk once i’m in my right mind... i’ll... do anything… just to be with you… again...” passing out as he rests his head on the crook of your neck.

“i missed you too, kento.” hugging him tightly like you weren’t gonna see him tomorrow.

let’s just say that the both of you were able to sleep comfortably, knowing you were in each other’s arms.

[imamastermind-nowurmine]

I think it’s been years since I’ve purposefully stayed up this late

[albedobeheading]

guys I am. So horribly emotionally unwell

[peapod20001]

Ooooohh godd.

[myfictionaldreams]

I have such a specific idea for poly marauders so please bare with me .

James and Sirius were out to a fancy party and they come home early to see reader and remus having sex in the kitchen , remus has her spread on the table while he fucks her and she arches her back and sees sirius through blurry vision and calls his name, remus doesn’t notice them so he thinks shes calling her other boyfriends name “ wrong boyfriend sweetheart “ so he fucks her harder until she calls his name “ there you go love”.

You could continue this however you would like Maybe james and Sirius join them. I also love the idea that after everything when they’re showering she reassure remus and says something like “ it’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you , you’re all consuming “ and the boys agree THATS SO CUTE.

I’m so sorry that this is long and graphic.

Say My Name // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Whoever you are, anon, I thank you for giving me this request because, holy shit, it has turned me (and Remus) absolutely feral, and I have no regrets.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, werewolf troupes, feral remus lupin, dom/sub undertones, possessive sex, size difference/kink (!), praise kink, dirty talk, self-confidence issues, gentle touching/kissing, rough oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, overstimulation, table sex, manhandling, multiple orgasms, crying, body worship, anxiety attack (nearly), restraints, blindfold, begging, aftercare :)))

Words: 5.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You both look so damn handsome!” you admire dreamily with a thick lace of sarcasm as you tighten the burgundy scarf around Sirius’ neck. The mischievous glint in those twinkling grey eyes brightened as he rolled them in jest, matching the doting smirk on his full lips. “Maybe you should forgo the leather jackets more often for the waistcoats”, you say with a lustful undertone to your words as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Hmm, you think so?” he asks, dipping his height ever so slightly so that he could press his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss that still managed to pull desire in your abdomen as you leaned in for more but whined as he stood back to full height and straightened the waistcoat you loved so very much.

From behind you at the entrance to the bathroom, James was attempting to knot his bowtie when he wondered, “Are you sure you both don’t want to come with us? We each can have a plus one, which means there’s room for two. We don’t mind being fashionably late”. Glancing over your shoulder, you took in his slick attire that also caused warmth to bloom beneath your cheeks. A simple black jacket shaped perfectly for his slim waist, a crisp white shirt beneath and a matching shade of burgundy to Sirus was the colour for his tie.

The matching colours were an idea of Remus’, who was lounging across the mammoth bed, his long legs stretched out beneath him with one ankle crossed over the other. He watched James intently, the corner of his eye twitching at the messy-haired Marauder's attempts to tie his bowtie.

Remus stood and approached him, batting away James’ fingers as he began to do the job for him. You watched them fondly before answering the unanswered question. “No, it’s ok, James. Remus and I have a lovely night filled with a romantic home-cooked meal and a fancy bottle of wine. Who knows where the night may take us? Might end in some lovely… hand holding”, you say with a simple shrug to your shoulders, returning to straightening the already pristine waistcoat of Sirius.

“Oh yeah? Some strong hand-holding, Moony, is that what you’ve got planned? You might need to up your game”, Sirius jokes under his breath as he watches your fingers closely with a dipped head.

Remus snorted, smiling to himself, knowing that your night would be filled with anything but hand-holding, especially as the hours ticked closer to the following day. It was approaching the full moon, not tomorrow but the next day, but that didn’t matter as the changes were already beginning to affect Remus, and it all started with his desire for possession.

The wolf in Remus took a keen liking to you, even from all those years ago when you met the Marauders on the train to Hogwarts. It was an obsession, a need that devoured him completely to be with you. It had been described to you like a mating. Remus’ wolf thought you were his mate; therefore, as the gap between Remus’ and the wolf’s mind thinned with the full moon, the desire would take hold of Remus. There was still the deep, adoring love that he held for James and Sirius, and thankfully, this stopped him from ever deeming them a threat against your love, but others? Well, that’s where the danger lay, and therefore, it was easier for everyone if you and Remus stayed in for the night rather than have a territorial wizard with werewolf anger in a room full of people.

“Remember to please be safe out there tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and for the love of Merlin, James, please don’t drink and fly again. I’m not having another incident like last time”.

“Yes, Mum”, James grumbles sarcastically as Sirius chuckles under his breath.

“I’ll make sure that Prongs is on his best behaviour”, Sirius reasons with you as his hands come to rest around your waist, pulling you ever so gently closer.

“Good”, you say promptly, whilst curling a piece of his long hair around your fingers before reaching up to kiss his lips with a fierce press. “You look so handsome tonight,” you try to praise him as your mouths are still kissing together.

“Don’t I always?” he responds cheekily, earning a half-hearted eye-roll as he eases away, swapping places with James so that he can say goodbye to Remus and James with you.

Your fingers automatically try to tangle through James’ hair, attempting to flatten out the messy strands, but after a couple of minutes of attempts, James tugs you by your wrists. “I don’t know why you even bother; you know my hair will just stay messy. Anyway, doesn’t it add to my roguish good looks?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he gives you a broad grin whilst kissing each of your palms.

Your fingers cup his freshly shaved cheeks, caressing the smooth skin as you say, “I hope you have fun tonight”, whilst leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much vigour as you could hear from the groans across the room with Sirius and Remus.

James sighed into the kiss, one hand matching yours by resting along your cheek and the other on your lower back as his lips pecked across your face until hovering next to your ear. “If you need us to come back, just send a note as we taught you; two flicks of your fingers and it should disappear, and we’ll come back straight away”.

Nodding your head in understanding, James kissed your cheek quickly before standing up to his full height and looking over at the other two men. “Sirius, take your tongue from Moony’s mouth; we must go!”

You tried to stifle your laughter as the two men pulled away from each other with rosy cheeks and wet lips.

Sirius and James disappeared with a flurry of green fire through the flu network installed in your shared home's kitchen. Remus turned to you with a heartwarming smile as he asked, “Shall we put some music on and start with dinner, love?”

You left it in Remus’ capable hands to find suitable music on his record player, and it ended up being a medley of David Bowie, which you were always happy to listen to. The two of you worked in unison to cook a beautiful roast dinner, moving around one another without getting in the way but making sure to remain at arm's length. Lingering touches to arms or backs, sipping slowly on the bottle of wine as Remus sang along to Bowie under his breath. You’d told him he could sing louder as you wanted to hear him, but he simply smiled and kissed your cheek, like he was embarrassed at being caught, but it was a rare day where Remus Lupin was embarrassed about anything.

The dinner was beautifully cooked, and there was enough for many more people than just you and Remus. Soon enough, you were stuffed full, thankful for deciding to wear a loose dress today with your expanded stomach. Remus was still eating as you sat and slowly digested your food, talking idly about fond memories from Hogwarts and how your work had been this week. Just anything domestically happy that the two of you could as you shifted closer in your seat so that his large scarred palm could rest on your thigh and your fingers interlock over the back of his hands.

“It’s a rare time when it gets to be just the two of us”, Remus muses, his hand squeezing your fingers and thighs as he pushes away his empty plate, his eyes solely focused on you.

“It’s been nice. As much as I love having all four of us together, sometimes it’s hard to keep up and give each of you all my attention, so when it's just one-on-one, it feels so intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”

His eyes softened as he nodded, “I definitely agree. You look so beautiful tonight, by the way. Have I told you that?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you looked away to the glass of wine in your other hand. Even after all these years, one small compliment from Remus felt like the world, and it wasn’t the first time he had said that tonight; he’d said it every other sentence, but that didn’t hinder the giddy feeling from spreading in your chest.

“You, Mr Lupin, are a smooth talker”, you say, drinking a sip of your wine, ignoring his growing smile. Placing the glass onto the table, you shifted closer to Remus, resting a hand on his chest as you realised how much time had passed over the night. “So pudding, what would you like? I think we have some ice cream in the freezer, or if you’re lucky, James would have left us a couple of slices of his mum’s cake from yesterday”.

Remus didn’t answer immediately as you realised he was just silently watching you with the beautiful twinkle back in his eye, a curve to his lips that you itched to caress with your thumb. But then, he shifted forward in his seat so you were only mere inches from your faces touching, and the soft flop of his mousey brown hair fell into his eyes. “You’re so pretty, Remus”, you admire and then hold back a giggle as his cheeks flare with colour at your compliment.

“Pretty and scarred”, he muttered in response, cupping your wrist and bringing your fingers to his lips so he could kiss them carefully.

Your automatic response was to shout at him. It wasn’t that he had said anything remotely negative, but you knew the self-conscious thoughts that laced his words that he rarely spoke but still thought. You wanted to remind him of the hundreds of times he had ever scolded you for making negative comments about yourself or any self-doubt. Still, if you did, you knew it would ruin the positive mood for the night, so you wanted to continue with words of affirmation.

Closing the gap between each other, you kissed the tip of his nose whilst cupping both cheeks, paying specific attention to the thick pink scar that ran down from his temple, over his brow and his cheek. “I love you, scars and all”.

Remus’ tension seemed to ease from his shoulders as he breathed lightly out of his nose, his face lowering to rest on your shoulder as you held him for a moment before he began to stand and offered a hand, “What about a dance m’lady, then I’ll find you something sweet to suck on for desert”.

Ignoring the innuendo, you grinned up at him, placing your hand into his much larger palm. James and Sirius had lessons growing up from their families on how to dance for special balls they were forced to attend. You and Remus, on the other hand, were utterly clueless, but this only added to the joy and laughter as you both clumsily tried not to step on the other's toes or twirl without knocking into furniture.

You’d laughed so hard that a stitch formed in your side, causing the vivid dance to settle into a light sway. Your head rested on Remus's shoulder as his cheek pressed against the top of your head, arms around your shoulder as he lightly sang the next Bowie song.

Everything was perfect, especially as his rough fingertips danced up the nape of your neck, carefully tipping your head back so that you were now staring up into his kind eyes, his lips no longer moving along to the lyrics as he licked them carefully, moistening them before dipping his head. The kiss was as gentle as his hands now cupping your face, and you wondered for a moment if you were lightheaded from holding your breath in anticipation or from the effects of having your boyfriend kissing you.

Remus was soft, lovely and perfect as he eased away to put a gap between your mouths, but only so that he could adjust his position by keeping one hand on your jaw and the other around your waist before taking your breath away once more. Instantly, your body rose to the tips of your toes to be closer to him and firm the kiss.

The breath you’d both been holding released, noses pressing into each other's cheeks as the warm air tickled your ears. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and as you relaxed into the kiss, many things seemed to happen at once.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed midnight, and the soft Remus you’d been carefully kissing and exploring with your lips was now firmly gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you whilst simultaneously stepping towards the table as you squealed in shock, desperately gripping his shoulders for support.

Plates and glasses smashed onto the floor as Remus shoved aside the lovely table setting so that there was a firm blank canvas for you to be led on.

“Woah, Remus, just give me a minute.” You try to reason with him to at least get your bearings. Having been standing up two seconds ago, you were now led on your back with your boyfriend having become frantic with his actions. His shoulders shook with restraint, and his eyes didn’t lift from the edge of your skirt as he reached for the material. Not only this, but the brightness in his eyes had one, replaced with sinful hunger.

“Need you-” he muttered with a gruffness that hadn’t been there moments ago.

This was why you’d decided to stay in. Sometimes, Remus would curl around your body with the need to simply just breathe you in and declare that you were his; he’d become somewhat feral.

The fire in your body scorched to life as the need seeped into your core. As lovely as it had been, seeing him like this just did something to you. You wanted him just as desperately.

Frantically, you tried to help him lift up your skirt, but he was in control, pushing the material and tearing it in places with his firm grip until your legs and underwear-covered pussy were revealed. For a moment, it looked like he was going to dribble as you tried to reach for him to tell him to take a breath and compose himself, but all you were able to do audibly was scream out, head tipping back as Remus devoured you.

The Marauder hadn’t even waited for your underwear to be removed before his mouth was on you, hands not-so-gently wrapping around your thighs to push your legs apart, the slippers you’d been wearing now flying off in different directions across the kitchen. It was like he’d not eaten a single thing all night with the way his lips and jaw moved against your most sensitive of areas.

The sensation was odd with the barrier of cotton in between your cunt and his mouth. All you had was the pressure, wetness beginning to soak through from his tongue and the overwhelming heat from his mouth. Remus moved hungrily, licking and caressing with his mouth as you lay with your arms gripping onto the edge of the table above your head.

“Rem-Remus! Merlin, please don’t stop!” you begged desperately, allowing your body to succumb to his touch. You couldn’t even open your eyes without feeling dizzy with the sensations of his body all over your lower half as he pressed his tongue firmly against your throbbing clit, circling it with intention.

The hands on your thighs pushed harder, giving his face more room as a deep groan burned from his chest as he needed more. Still, as you whimpered from him to not stop, he stayed in place, stimulating your clit over and over again until your body was tensing with the pulses of desire from your cunt as your orgasm erupted.

His motions continued through the waves of pleasure, and even after, he carried on with his devouring, even as you verged on the edge of becoming overstimulated from the rough material of your panties rubbing against your delicate area. Remus needed more, and he was ready to take it.

The pressure on the back of your thighs suddenly disappears as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, giving you a better angle now to reach down and run your shaky fingers through his soft hair.

With your eyes firmly closed, you hadn’t noticed that your underwear had been torn clean from your body, only noticing when there was no barrier between what you both wanted. Your back arched from the stimulation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves, making an obscenely wet noise as your juices and his saliva caused a heavenly mess. 

Your legs had begun squeezing his face as you weren’t able to control your body, but he didn’t stop; he just simply continued to eat your pretty cunt. “Please….please Remus”, you continued to beg but unsure of what as you were thoroughly warm head to toe with the effects from your last orgasm, but his playful mouth knew just the right ways to keep you at the elevated bliss.

The thickness of his tongue pressed against your throbbing hole, delving as deep as he could go before curling it and exploring the warm softness of your cunt as the tip of his nose stimulated your clit.

It was intense, primarily as his large hands now rested on your abdomen, pushing down and forcing your hips to remain against the table so that he could remain in complete control of the stimulation to your body.

Clenching relentlessly around his tongue, your body couldn’t tell if it was calming down from an orgasm or having another. The overwhelming sensation caused tears to well in your eyes as the apples of your cheeks burned with heat. Everything was too much; even the clothes covering your torso felt claustrophobic as your nipples ached to be free.

“Ah!” you babbled, unable to even say his name as more intense waves of pleasure rocked from your cunt as it pulsed around his tongue. The tears escaped down your cheeks as you tried to gasp for air, your body finally slumping in exhaustion against the table as Remus began to stand from where he’d been on his knees for you.

Each of your legs was carefully eased from his shoulders to dangle off the edge of the wooden surface, not that you could keep them up anyway, as your entire body felt as if it was made of jelly.

“Did so good for me, Love. Taste so fucking good, wanna try?” he asked from where he now looked down at you, hovering only inches away from your face as his fingers wiped away the evidence of the tears. You nod quickly, opening your eyes for a split second to see Remus’ dark eyes and swollen, wet lips before they were pressing against yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth and allowing you the vulgar opportunity to taste your own juices from his mouth.

“My pretty girl tastes so good”, he admired, staring down at you, memorising every flicker of emotions on your face. You mewled at the compliment, nuzzling your face pathetically into his palm as he cradled your face. “What do you want? I want to hear you say it”.

His tone indicated that he was teasing, which was a rare attribute for Remus as he usually just liked to do whatever he had in mind, but when he was like this, wishing to get the very most from you as his werewolf subconscious began to flicker through his thoughts.

“You, I want you. Please!” you stress whilst trying to look up at him, fingers trembling at your side with the need to touch him somehow.

The corners of Remus’ lips tilted up as he smiled down at you, “Have I ever told you how much I love to hear you beg?”

Before you could respond, you were gasping as coolness licked over your chest as he’d swiped his wand down the centre of your clothing until it was falling off of your shoulders, and your body could be free from the confines. His eyes lowered, focused on your pebbled nipples as they begged for him to be touched, but he didn’t rush to them.

Instead, Remus began the long journey of exploring the rest of your body with firm kisses and licking with the flat of his tongue. He paid special attention to your neck, as he always did this close to the full moon as his sharp teeth grazed over your pulse point, the animalistic side of his begging to bite down and mark his girl, but he restrained, knowing it would be painful for you. The last time he’d done so, he’d had a right bollocking off of James and Sirius, who prattled on about how you weren’t his chew toy, even though you had insisted that it was ok.

Moving lower, Remus worshipped your breasts. He was licking the skin around the areola before drawing your nipple and some breast tissue into his mouth, sucking with enough force that the area swelled with the rush of blood. The fire in your core intensified as you gained enough energy to lift your hands and grip his shirt.

“I need you, Remus, please stop teasing me”, you beg, but all that earned in response was an approved grunt.

“Relax, and just let me kiss you”, he sniped with desire as you wanted to sass back but found yourself melting into the table instead. Each inch of your stomach, hips, legs, arms, everywhere he could reach in this position, he praised with his mouth until he was once again hovering above your lips. “All I can think about is you”, he admitted, his tone caught between hunger and pain as his thoughts were becoming too clouded by the wolf’s desire to be close to you.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you tried to sound as calming as possible, “I know, Remus, it’s ok. I’m right here. Take me”.

A shiver ran down his spine as he finally began to unbuckle his trousers, freeing his cock between your bodies as he rested on his elbows on either side of your face so that his face could nuzzle into your neck.

You took the honours of reaching between your legs, grasping his impressively hard cock, admiring the soft skin and veins that bulged as you pulled him closer to where you needed him most.

“Tell me you’re mine”, he begged as you directed his tip to your soaked hole.

Tilting your head so that you could kiss his cheek, you implored, “I’m yours Remus - FUCK!”

All you could do was curse and cling to him as, with one powerful thrust, the majority of his cock stretched into your pussy. You could never take his entire length unless it were through anal play, but that didn’t stop him trying as the pressure became overwhelming as he nudged against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled once more as he gave you time to adjust, sighing blissfully against your neck as if he had finally found what it was that he was looking for. However, as your cunt frantically fluttered around Remus as you adjusted to the intrusion, Remus began to rut his hips in short, snapping thrusts slowly.

You groaned at the sensation and found your hips meeting his until all restraint was gone, and Remus was fucking you hard and fast.

Pushing up on his hands so that he was looking down at you, Remus fucked you hard. The table beneath you groaned just as loudly as you were as it rocked against the floor, and for a split second, you hoped it wouldn’t suddenly collapse beneath you two.

Remus suddenly moved as if hearing your thoughts, widening his stance as he stood to his full height, hands on your thighs and bringing your body to the very edge of the table. In this position, he could fuck you with quick snaps of his hips. Your back arched in this new position, pleasure pouring into your soul.

However, a noise over the sound of the fucking caught your attention as the fire flickered with green flames, and you couldn’t help but gasp, “Sirius!” as he stepped out of the fire, followed closely by James.

Remus, still with his head hunched slightly from where he was watching you intently, growled at the name used, his gaze hardening on you as he leaned back until you looked into each other's eyes. “Wrong name, Sweetheart”, he demanded lowly, fucking into you with as power as he could, causing you to cry out and tense with the pleasure. “I only want my name coming out of your mouth, do you understand?”

“Yes, Remus! I’m sorry!” you plead with him as he fucks you harder.

“There you go, Love. See, it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” As he talks, he lifts his hands and covers your eyes so you can no longer look at Sirius or James as you’re plunged into darkness.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Moony”, James teases from somewhere across the room as you hear him and Sirius shuffling around but are unable to see what they are doing.

Remus grunts but doesn’t stop with his motions, making sure that your next orgasm is just as overwhelming and powerful as the others as your cunt clung to him for dear life, attempting to milk his balls with the powerful clenches but he didn’t stop fucking you all the way through your orgasm.

Having his hand over your eyes was a disorientating position to be in, especially as he would every so often kiss your cheek or neck, savouring your soft skin before moving away so that his momentum could continue.

A hiss echoed across the room from wherever your other two boyfriends currently were, and as another whimper sounded from what you assumed was Sirius, Remus then decided it would be a good time to completely pull out of your pussy, leaving you gaping and empty.

Before you could moan, more disorientation flowed through you as his hand was removed from your face, and your body was being manhandled so that you were now being turned over on the table until your front was pressed against the wood. With a gentle kick to your ankle, Remus made room between your legs for himself and fucked into you. He was even deeper in this angle, which you didn’t think was possible as his chest pressed against your back.

His and didn’t return to your face, allowing you to look at your other lovers. Sirius was currently sitting on James’ lap, both of their fancy clothes more dishevelled from earlier as the bowtie and scarf were off and the top buttons were undone. They stared intently at you and Remus as they touched one another. James was kissing the column of Sirius’ neck whilst his hands groped at the bulge at the front of his trousers. At the same time, Sirius was grinding his hips down on James, who you assumed had a matching bulge that was rubbing against Sirius’ arse.

“You’re mine, Love. Aren’t you? My pretty girl”, Remus whispered with deep penetrations of his cock into your cunt.

“Yes! I’m yours, Remus! You’re so deep”, you proclaim with a cry as you find yourself already wanting to peak and cum over his thick dick again. However, Remus knew you just as well as you knew yourself and could feel the tightening of your soft walls and stopped all thrusting as you sobbed with the beautiful feeling washing away.

His hand eased beneath your face, holding your jaw and forcing your sight away from your boyfriend's until it was tilted to look over your shoulder at Remus. “You only get to cum after them”, he demands before nipping your ear love with a sharp tug of his teeth.

“Moony, you really are tense, aren’t you” Sirius jokes breathlessly as he moves more eagerly against James, whose hand is now fully inside of his boyfriend's trousers, wanking him off in time with the movements.

Thankfully it didn’t take them long to cum, Sirius first with his head thrown back and trousers staining a dark colour in a little puddle. James then rutted up into Sirius a few minutes later, groaning and stilling his movements. Both breathed each other in deeply, lazily kissing and holding onto one another until your sudden gasp echoed around the room as Remus continued with his fucking.

Your head moved to drop onto the table as you accepted the fucking, but Remus’ hand remained beneath, cushioning your face from the hardness of the wooden table as his lips moved to the junction between your throat and shoulder.

With each thrust, Remus repeatedly grunted the possessive word, “Mine!” until it was all you could think about. Your orgasm nearly caused you to pass out with its intensity. Juices streamed from your cunt, dripping down your thighs as waves of clenching pleasure constricted around Remus’ cock until he was forcing as much of himself as he could into you, and thick seed spurted into you. The warmth was welcomed as it soothed your pussy from the inside out as it began to trickle down your thighs, mixing with your own juices.

You were half aware of your movements, more concerned with the fact that you couldn’t control the tremble and sobs as Remus pressed himself harder over your back, making you feel grounded and safe.

“Shh. Slowly breathe in and out for me. That’s it. Slowly breathe for me again, keep going, well done”, Remus encouraged for some time as you’d been close to a panic attack with the overstimulation, close to tipping into the submissive headspace that would have taken them a lot longer to draw you out of.

“It’s just… a lot”, you say shakily, eyes closed and absorbing every warmth he was willing to give you”.

“I know, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”, he reassured calmly.

You’re exhausted, ready to fall asleep right there on the kitchen table as you whisper, “I wanna go to sleep”.

Remus kissed your naked shoulder, “After we clean you up, ok, Love?”

As Remus begins to stand, his half-hard cock slipping out of your well-used hole with a slurp and shudder from both of you, did James finally step forward whilst readjusting his softening cock in his trousers.

Squatting down next to you, his fingers tentatively caressed your cheek while keeping an eye on Remus behind you to ensure the action wouldn’t trigger him somehow. “You alright there?” James asked softly.

“Mmhm. Just a little sleepy”, you say whilst closing your eyes at the ticklish touch on your face.

Sirius stepped forward from behind James, raising his wand and pointing it to the destroyed rest of the kitchen mess, “I’ll clean up here, you guys look after her, and I’ll join you in the bathroom”.

Remus had to carry you to the bathroom as liquid drips flooded out of you and marked the direction you had been giving Sirius more to clean up. As this house was altered for the four of you, the shower was wide enough to provide you with Remus and James plenty of room to wash together.

You attempted to stand up on your own but ended up leaning heavily on Remus as James washed the remnants of the fucking from your body was skilled, careful fingers.

“You know I didn’t mean to say the wrong name, right? I just didn’t expect to see them standing there and-” you begin to explain with Remus, worried he’d been upset by you saying Sirius’s name earlier.

However, his lips quickly cut you off with a simple peck, “I know”.

Kissing his cheek several times, you mumbled against his skin, “It’s hard to think of anything else when I’m around you. You’re all consuming, Remus”.

Against your lips, you feel the heat radiating off of him in a quick burst of rare embarrassment as he actually blushed at your words.

“She’s right, Moony. Without you, there is no us without you”, James quips in a rare statement of sincerity.

A cough from the bathroom door catches all your attention as Sirius casually leans against the door frame, cheeks round with roast potato as he joins in with the Remus praising. “There’s a reason why we all argue every night to see who gets to be spooned by the magnificent Remus Lupin”.

Three of you chuckled before you asked, “Are you eating my leftovers?”

“What?” he says with a shrug, stepping further into the room and beginning to take off his clothing at last. “The food was scarce at the party, and Moony’s roasties are always so fucking good”.

You nod in agreement before looking up at Remus once more, who looks quite proud of himself for the flow of compliments coming his way. However, as you attempted to lean up onto your tip toes again to kiss his handsome face in some way, your knees decided they were finished holding up your way as you nearly collapsed to the floor, only stopping because of his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“As much as I appreciate this little pep talk, I think we need to get someone to bed”.

Remus lay in the centre of the bed, where he rightfully deserved to be tonight with you on top of him, face resting on his chest and legs on either side of his hips as each of your hands held his. Sirius and James joined later, deciding they needed some extra alone time in the shower together, as the dry humping hadn’t entirely filled that horny spot for either of them.

You were asleep by the time both men crept into bed, resting either side of you and Remus with arms spooning around your back as the three shared a kiss goodnight. “How was your night?” Remus asked, looking between James and Sirius. “You’re both sober, so I’m assuming no mischief?”

“Oh, Moony, like we need alcohol to cause a riot. Why do you think we’re back so early?” Sirius declares whilst flicking out the laugh and curling in closer to the warmth of bodies as Remus chuckles into the darkness.

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ SUDDEN CHOICES! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...when you thought your marriage couldn’t fall apart more than it already was, you’re facing the reality of it all. Forced to deal with a broken heart and taking care of your child, you’re left with the ultimate decision of choosing to stay or choosing to leave

INFO...toji x fem!reader, reader and toji have a child, angst, marriage problems, mentions of cheating, arguing, crying, threatening to divorce, comfort towards the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Toji stared at you from across the room, a defeated look on his face as you held your crying child in your arms. A sour look formed on your face when you looked back at him. You two had been arguing again, he’s lost count of how many times you’ve gone back and forth with each other. The thickness of the room made him feel like he was suffocating, stuck.

“We can continue this conversation tomorrow,” you harshly say, rubbing your baby’s back gently, trying to soothe him back to sleep.

“How about we just drop it?” Toji sighed, turning away from you. You had caught him talking with his coworker alone in his office, which wouldn’t be a problem if they’re faces weren’t two inches away from each other and her hand was placed so comfortably on his chest. You caught them when dropping off his lunch that he’d forgotten at home.

“Drop it?” Your eyes widen in surprise. “You want me to fucking drop it?” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yes! I want you to fucking drop it! Is it so hard for you to stop arguing for one fucking day?!” He shouts, voice echoing off the four walls of your home. The babies cries start back up again, and Toji lets out another tired sigh. And he can’t even look at you anymore, not when you stare at him with such emptiness, tears threatening to spill. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell—”

“You never mean to do anything anymore, do you?” You reply through gritted teeth, stomping past him to make your way to the babys room. You slam the door behind you, silence engulfs the room and you stand there alone, consoling your child as hot tears pour down your cheeks. “It’s alright, baby boy, just sleep.” You kiss the top of his head, shushing him.

Rocking back and forth on your feet, you stare into space, the thought of what would have happened if you hadn’t brought him his lunch plaguing your mind. The girl…she was young, beautiful, something that you feel you’d lost along the way. It’s part of the reason you think Toji has been so distant with you. He’s lost attraction to you, maybe even lost love for you. And every time you bring it up, he denies it with the roll of his eyes. He’s doesn’t comfort or reassure you. It’s like he’s bothered by you and your child.

You barely see him anymore, always at work or drinking at the bar with his friends. Hell, you can’t even remember the last time you actually got to spend time with him. Sometimes you wondered why he even asked to marry you, and you wonder why you said yes. It was clear your marriage was falling apart right before your eyes. He says he loves you but you don’t feel it, see it. You feel nothing. Just a bunch of empty words to make you think everything is okay.

You look at the shining diamond ring on your finger, watching as it glistened in the light. The day he asked you felt like something out of a fairytale. It’s a moment every girl thinks about, the day the one she loves asks her to be theirs forever. It what you’ve always wanted. A marriage, a family, and now that you have it…would little you be disappointed it’s not like what she imagined? Would she ask why our husband acts that way? Why he’s always making us cry? Why he’s never here? It’s strange to think about.

You thickly swallow, blinking down at your hand. Is it even worth it anymore? You don’t know Toji anymore. It’s like he’s a ghost. Tears spill from your eyes, a stoic look on your face. The door to the room creaks open and you can feel him standing behind you, his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. He looks over to your child, his son sleeping soundly on your shoulder. He slowly walks over to you, worried at how oddly silent you are. “Mama?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You’re still looking down at your ring, dried tears on your cheeks. His eyes flicker between your face and your ring, a concerned look in his eye.

“Here, lemme see him.” He gently grabs the baby from your arms. As soon as he does, you quickly exit the room, walking away without saying a word. The baby stirs in his arms and Toji strokes his cheek with the pad of his finger. “It’s alright. I’m sorry for yelling. Im sorry if I scared you.” He stares down at his son and Toji feels a wave of crushing sadness wash over him, like a dark cloud. He kisses his son’s cheek before placing him in his crib, turning the nightlight on and turning off the room light. He shuts the door softly, making his way to the bedroom where he finds you sitting at your vanity in the bathroom, staring at yourself while you wipe your makeup off.

“Mama, can you talk to me?” He leans against the doorway, the silence from you making him itch for something, anything.

You halt your movements and slowly turn to look at him. “What do you want me say? You asked me to drop it, so I did.” You shrugged, sniffling, looking away from him.

“I’m not cheating on you. I know what it looked like.” He walked over to you, his footsteps heavy. “She’s just—”

“You’re gonna tell me she’s just friendly, she’s a co worker, I walked in at the wrong time. Am I about right?” You slam your hand down on the vanity. “I’m sick, Toji! What even is this?” You stood from your seat, the chair scraping against the floor of the bathroom.

“What are you even talking about, y/n?” Clear signs of frustration show in his expression.

“You’re never home. We barely talk to each other besides arguing. You never touch me, make love to me, most of the time you can’t even look me in the eye! You sleep next to me and don’t even hold me anymore!” The tears your tried your hardest to hold back come flowing out with ease. The anger boiling inside you allows your words to be sharp and powerful. “I can’t…” Your voice breaks. Toji goes to reach for you and you push him away. “Don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want your touch if I have to beg for it.”

“You’re my wife, y/n. My wife. I married you,” he exclaims, eyebrows raised.

“And what does that mean to you exactly?” You ask. “Genuinely, what does it mean to you? I need to know.” You stare into his eyes. “You say you love me but I don’t feel it, I don’t see it. So, please be honest with me, Toji. If you lie to me one more time…I’m leaving.” You were tired, over everything.

“I love you, y/n—” Toji stops his words when you take your ring off of your finger, placing it in his hand. “What…what are you doing?” He’s quick to ask. “Mama, don’t walk away from me.” He follows you out of the bathroom. “I’m not lying to you.” He squeezes the ring in his hand.

“You are,” you calmly say. “You’re lying to me and yourself. You may love me, Toji, but you’re not in love with me. Not anymore,” you explain. “Did you fall for someone else or did you just wake up one day and realize I wasn’t what you wanted anymore?”

“What are you talking about?” He shakes his head. “Mama, look at me.” He grabs your hand and slides the ring over your finger. “I am in love with you. I’m lying to no one. Not you, not me. What is this about, huh? Is it about her? I’ll fire her. I’ll do anything.” He’s practically begging, his grip on your hand growing tighter, the other cupping your cheek, trying to get you to look at him.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” You break down, sobbing. “I’m so tired of this.” You try and pull away from him but his hold on you is strong. “Why do you only change when I threaten to leave? Why can’t you just change on your own? Why do I have to yell at you and cry to get you to realize?” You hit his chest once, and then once more, and then again. And Toji stands there and takes it. “Why don’t you want me anymore?” You cry.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest while you sob in his embrace. You hate the way he still brings you comfort despite being the sole reason of your pain. You feel conflicted. Should you stay or should you go? Does he mean everything that he says? By now, you think you would’ve learned your lesson, but it’s hard to leave someone you dearly love, someone you’ve grown accustomed to, been so intimate with. Imagining a life without him is hard, especially now that you have a child together. Leaving brings in the conflict of having to explain why you and Toji aren’t together, why your child only sees one or the other, and every holiday and birthday is now split into two.

Toji knows he’s grown distant with you. He’s aware. But never in a million years did he mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough for him. He regrets turning down every conversation you’ve tried to have with him about it, because in his head it was no big deal. His entire reasoning being the fact you two were arguing a lot more and he needed space. Which, now thinking about it, is a stupid reason. As for his co worker, he could care less about it. Toji knew she was overly friendly and he’s told her about you, about your family. He drew a boundary that she wasn’t respecting. Not once he cheated on you or thought about it.

Though, that doesn’t mean he’s the perfect husband. Not at all. He can lash out, say hurtful things and come off as selfish. Clearly. Your muffled cries fill his ears and he just holds you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. Im so sorry,” he says again. Slowly, he sits both of you on the edge of the bed. “We’re okay, mama. We’re alright. I promise.” He kisses the top of your head, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go. Toji doesn’t remember where things went wrong, but he didn’t want your marriage to continue down this path.

You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes immediately search yours and he can see how broken and tired you are. It shatters him. “You promise me?” You nervous bite the inside of your cheek. He wipes your tears and just with the touch of his hand he can make everything feel better, giving you hope.

“I promise you,” he says barely above a whisper.

“I miss you, Toji. I miss us.” Your lips quiver with a frown. His arms wrap around your waist, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you both hold onto each other, hearts beating in sync against your chests.

“I’m here now. I’m sorry.” He heavily sighs. “I’ll make this right. I’ll do whatever you need to me to as long as you don’t leave. I can’t let you go—can’t let either of you go.” His voice begins to waver at the thought. His breath hitches, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Can we lay down?” You mumble. At your request, he climbs into bed with you, laying you on top of his chest. It felt good to be so close to him again, something you haven’t felt in months. And Toji realizes he didn’t know what he was missing until he had you back in his presence again. Not in only in a physical sense, but mentally and emotionally as well. He drapes the blankets over the both of you.

“I won’t go into work tomorrow,” he blurts out. “We’ll spend the day together. Maybe ask Gojo to babysit for the day?” He suggests.

“What will we do?” You ask.

“Whatever you want, mama. We’ll have the whole day.” He intertwines his fingers with yours. You sit in silence for a few, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “You’re important to me. I need you to know that.” He caresses your back. “You listening?” Toji peeks down only to find your eyes shut, you’re quickly asleep, chest rising and falling with each breath. A small smile quirks at the corner of his scarred lips. “We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0 @levisjinchuriki @maiiluvs @levizonlywife

[fum1ku]

LOVE TROPES - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, kei tsukishima, keishin ukai, atsumu miya

should i be working on the highly requested pt. 2 to my recent works that’s currently sitting in my drafts? yes. should i also probably be working on the few requests i’ve got in my inbox? also yes. am i still over here writing whatever this is instead of doing those things? absolutely. at least i’m writing something!

OSAMU: friends to lovers.

you had been friends with the miya twins since high school. you had always butt heads with atsumu; bickering back and forth about anything and everything. but it was different with osamu. it felt like you both understood each other, in a way. plus the mutual dislike you both had for atsumu definitely helped. and now, nearly 8 years later, your friendship was still going strong.

well past 8pm, you stood over the front counter at onigiri miya with samu cleaning behind the counter for closing, and atsumu sitting at a stool next to you.

“i don’t know what his problem is! we go out for drinks one night, wind up at his place, and then the next day he can’t even be bothered to send me a single fucking text. seriously. i’m done!” you were going on about your.. most recent boyfriend.

“why don’tcha just dump him then?” atsumu offered, his mouth full of the onigiri osamu had made for him.

“atsumu, you’re disgusting! and i can’t because we aren’t even a thing! which is good—i don’t want us to be.”

osamu laughed at you two from behind the counter.

“okay well then what’s the problem! i don’t understand you women,” atsumu exclaimed, licking off the last bits of onigiri form his fingertips and shoving his plate behind the counter. “i’ve got practice tomorrow. so i’m gone. some of us actually have real problems that aren’t centered around one night stands with guys!”

“oh right, atsumu, like your sex life is any better,” you muttered. the door slammed shut behind him as the bell above the door exhibierst through the building.

you sighed, sinking further into your chair.

“here,” osamu slid a plate towards you. “might make ‘ya feel better. plus i need feedback to see if it’s worth addin’ to the menu.”

you smiled. “thanks, osamu. and yeah, i’ll give good feedback, promise!”

osamu smiled to himself as he wiped down the back counter. yeah, sure, after 8 years of pining he was no closer to asking you out. but, no matter what, he’d always be here to make you food whenever another boy made you cry.

DAICHI: love at first sight.

it had been a long practice and daichi had decided to treat everyone to a snack down at sakanoshita. daichi stood with suga and asahi waiting for the 1st and 2nd years to finish grabbing their fill. tanaka and noya had seen daichi paying as an opportunity to grab whatever they wanted.

“c’mon you guys!” suga yelled from across the store. “we don’t have all day!”

it has been a long day of classes for you, so it wasn’t even an option in your mind whether you should stop at the convenience store or not. only now you had found yourself in your own little debate.

“milk tea.. or coffee?” you mumbled to yourself. you were bent down over the drinks section taking your sweet time.

daichi turned around to see you and knew he was gone right then and there.

suga scoffed at the two 2nd years taking their time, only to turn back and find daichi’s gaze focused on you.

“hey, daichi, maybe we should—” he started, but stopped as soon as he noticed daichi staring. he whispered to asahi and they both began berating their poor captain.

“c’mon, dude! why don’t you just go talk to them? we obviously have the time!” suga nudged at his arm.

daichi denied anything. “hey, i don’t even now what you’re talking about, suga! we’re here for snack for the team, just go focus on that.”

“hey, don’t we go to school with them? y/n l/n. class 2, i think,” asahi piped up. he couldn’t remember where exactly he knew you from, though.

daichi was sure if he had gone to school with you, he’d remember.

“they’re in photography club! that’s how i know them! they asked me to join after i dropped out of volleyball,” asahi recalled, loud enough to grab your attention.

you looked up to find the set of 3rd years staring in your direction. your drink in hand, you made your way up to them.

“azumane, right? nice to see you again!” you beamed.

“y-yeah, right! good to see you too, l/n,” he smiled, nervously.

“are you guys in line?” you questioned.

“no—no we’re not! sorry about that!” daichi apologized, moving to the side to allow you to get to the register.

you placed your drink on the counter, making small talk with the guy at the front register.

“c’mon, daichi! if you don’t ask them before they leave you might not get to again!” suga whispered.

“suga, let it go. it’s too strange—they don’t even know me.”

suga shoved daichi forward just as you turned around to make your way towards the door.

“oh! hi!” you mused.

“s-sorry. hi.. again.”

“sawamura, right? you’re the captains of the volleyball team!” you smiled.

“yeah, i am. and you’re l/n, right? asahi was telling me about you. you’re in photography.

“i am, actually! and please, just call me y/n!”

“then just call me daichi!”

first name basis after 10 minutes? way to go daichi!

“actually..” you started. “i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to take some action shots of the volleyball team? i was going to use them for an upcoming project of mine. of course if not, that’s okay too! you probably need to talk it over with the team.”

“yeah—absolutely! i’ll have to talk it over with everyone, but i don’t see it being a problem at all,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “what class are you in? i can talk to you some time next week to figure out what day would work best.”

“here,” you said, turning around to the man behind the counter. “excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

the man tossed you a pen, not giving a second look to you from behind his magazine. you pulled out daichi’s arm and started scribbling down numbers.

your.. phone number?

“now you can call me, that’ll be easier!” you smiled. “anyways, i gotta run. see you later, daichi. tell azumane i said bye too!”

he was speechless. did he really manage to get your number without even trying?

suga ran up behind him. “dude! how? you hardly said anything to them!”

“wow, daichi’s got skills with the ladies!” tanaka mused, noya trailing behind them. their arms were stacked full with all kinds of snacks.

he was definitely not paying for all of those.

KEI: academic rivals to lovers.

you worked at the library at the university you attended. tsukishima had seen you around campus a few times. yamaguchi would go as far as to describe you as tsukishima’s “campus crush”—which tsukki of course denied. he hardly even knew you.

but, this semester is when things finally got interesting. you had wound up taking the course tsukishima was the TA for.

you were currently bent down behind a bookshelf in the campus library, organizing the books that needed to be put away. you noticed a hand grab a book off your cart.

you stood up. “anything you need help finding?”

“no,” the man stated, blankly.

you examined the book in his hand. “wait. are you in psych 301? haven’t seen you in there before.”

“kei tsukishima. i’m the assistant in that class this semester.”

“oh! i’m y/n l/n. are you reading that book for fun then, or?”

“i know. i graded your last essay. something about the human consciousness or whatever,” he stated, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

your face went hot. “oh? so you were the one that gave me a B- on that. that was the best paper i’ve written all semester!”

“yeah, only because you can’t write any better ones. and maybe actually read the syllabus before you join the class,” he deadpanned.

“okay, mr. know-it-all. and for what it’s worth, i did in fact read the syllabus.”

“well if you actually paid attention, then you’d know this book was meant to be read alongside the other materials.”

wait. what?

before you could say another word, he placed the book back down in the cart. “my email is on the syllabus if you’d actually care to read it. good luck actually passing the class.”

you were so going to find that syllabus. and you were definitely doing to pass that class.

KEISHIN: second chance.

stepping foot into sakanoshita after years felt like a dream. but seeing keishin, your high school boyfriend, sitting there behind the counter, was what really sent you back.

“keishin?”

ukai actually took the time to look up form his magazine, and he was glad he did. “y/n?”

“keishin!” you smiled. “i didn’t realize you family still owned the place!”

he stood up form his seat behind the counter. “yeah! work here part-time, coach volleyball the other half.

“you coach volleyball? does the old ukai not coach anyone then?”

“nah, old man retired last year. still coaches a few younger kids on the side. but, hey, how have you been? it’s been years since i last saw you in miyagi. 4? 5, maybe?”

“yeah,” you sighed. “it’s definitely been awhile. but life has been great in tokyo. my internship finally ended and so i’m back here for the next month or two!”

“really? you got to let me take you out sometime—drinks, to celebrate.”

you felt the slight rush of heat to your cheeks. “r-right! of course!”

“hey, if you wanted, we close in less than an hour. you could wait here till then, catch up, then let me take you out for drinks.”

“alright,” you smiled, taking a seat behind the counter next to ukai. “tell me about your team then. where do you coach? karasuno?”

you felt like you were 16 all over again. just him and you.

ATSUMU: opposites attract.

you were the promotional manager for the msby black jackals. everyone on the team loved you—yes, even sakusa. though he wouldn’t admit it. but, atsumu being the sly guy he is, took every opportunity to flirt with you. of course, keeping things professional, you shut him down every chance you got. plus, it would never work. ever. you knew that.

he was childish, you were mature—top of your office only a few months in. he was selfish half the time, and he’d always describe you as one of the most thoughtful people he’s ever met. he was confident and bold. you were quiet and reserved, at least time him. so when you find yourself alone with him at the gym one night late after practice, going through your binder of advertising ideas, you didn’t know what to make of it. the way you could feel he eyes focused on you and only you drove you insane.

you finally took a break form your rant about new promotional ideas for the team, leaving a heavy silence between the two of you.

“y/n?” he finally said, breaking for silence.

“yeah, atsumu?” you respond, not looking up form your binder.

“you should let me take ‘ya out. i mean it.”

you quietly gasped to yourself.

sure, atsumu had made pass after pass at you every day for the last few months since you started working with the team. but, this time, he sounded so.. genuine.

what’s even worse is you couldn’t help yourself from the words the escape your lips in the last moment.

“okay.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

[simplyholl]

The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

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“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu

[norrisjpg]

TASTE … ʟɴ⁴

in which, lando calls off his arrangement with his best friend for a new girl — but all he can think of is her.

contains: a little bit of angst, lando with another girl (brief smut), smut; dom!lando, brief sub!lando, body worship, oral (f + m), fingering, face-sitting, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex, mentions of anal; a bit of fluff at the end.

lando norris x female character (ella ainsley)

... pretty morning streams of sunlight beamed through lando norris’ apartment windows — illuminating the blonde hair splayed on the right side of his bed. white sheets were tangled between two warm bodies, one with pinkish-red scratch marks littered down his back, and the other with light brown bruises squeezed into her hips.

who, you ask? these were the almost entwined bodies of lando norris and his best friend, ella ainsley. well, they weren't just best friends, they were something a little more - best friends with benefits, or best friends who used each other to burn off a few calories and release some pent up sexual desperation.

however, arrangements like these hardly ever end well - and it was the same for the case of lando and ella.

"morning." ella murmured as she noticed lando intently gazing at her in the early beams of light.

"morning pretty girl." he rasped, voice a little croaky as his eyes fluttered open and closed a few times. "sleep well?"

"as always." she smiled groggily, letting her eyes naturally close for a few seconds, before her gaze fell back to the brit practically on top of her. "you?"

"always when i'm with you." he breathed out, staring at her for a moment or two, before pulling his gaze away from and rolling over.

lando got out of bed with a large stretch, muscles in his back contorting as his shoulders rolled back, ella's eyes fixated on him - he was so gorgeous.

"breakfast?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows as he rubbed his eye with his knuckles — stood there in his black boxers and nothing else.

“mhm.” she nodded sleepily with a small smile.

now, these two seem very cuddly and lovey — don’t they? ella thought so too, so the events of the following week severely surprised and hurt her - a lot.

“i’m calling it off.” lando said as they sat in his car. "going on a date tomorrow night, sorry.”

his tone was blunt but soft — like he didn’t care but he did? men were so confusing.

“oh.” she said simply, blinking at him. “okay.”

originally, ella thought his message had been one of those messages, telling her to get ready to be picked up by him, but clearly not.

“what’s her name?” she asked, glancing over at him as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

“um… luna.” he nodded, the air in the car having now grown extremely thick.

“oh, okay.” ella replied quietly. “i look forward to meeting her.”

…

of course she didn’t look forward to meeting her.

ella spent the rest of the evening in her apartment, wondering what this meant for their friendship. surely there was no way of coming back from this - lando had ruined her for anyone else.

there was no way that anyone could compare to him, in a lot of ways. she thought it was completely impossible for anyone to make her see literal constellations on her ceiling, for anyone to make her cry the tears of torturous pleasure, for anyone to make her so loud.

lando’s date went quite well, luna was polite and nice, and pretty too. the two went back to her apartment — lando never brought girls back to his apartment, in fear of media and paparazzi.

her apartment was nice, he felt lost though. her hand led him to her bedroom immediately — this all felt a little wrong.

usually, with ella, she’d come round to his place, they’d have dinner, watch a movie, and let it happen naturally — this whole straight away thing felt a little forced.

she didn’t even bother kissing him, instead she was straight onto her knees and working at his dress pants roughly. was it bad he missed the feeling of someone’s lips all over his jaw and neck and collarbone and chest and abs? how softly her hands would undo his belt or untie the strings of his joggers? how she’d suck dark hickeys on his v-line as she tugged his clothes to the floor?

he wasn’t even hard. like, there was a little bit of blood rushing south but nowhere near enough to make him useful to her.

well, he wasn’t hard until her lips wrapped around him and descended down. she didn’t even gag. usually, well before ella, he would have found that so hot — but ella had the worst gag reflex on the planet, but she’d keep going nonetheless — gazing up at him as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“mhm.” he hummed as her tongue brushed over the sensitive slit at the tip of his cock.

it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know what he liked — so he couldn’t complain.

she must have been on that floor for the best part of fifteen minutes? he was getting closer to something, maybe stimulation or something but it most definitely wasn’t an orgasm.

“come here.” he mumbled, pulling her up to him, pushing her back on the bed.

they weren’t even naked, yet he quickly spread her legs and pulled her underwear to the side. after quickly rolling a condom over himself, he ran his cock through her folds a few times, not really bothering to make sure she was properly lubed up as he would do usually — before pushing in.

it didn’t take her long to cum, maybe a few minutes? still, he didn’t cum, nevertheless he pulled out with a fake moan, slipping the condom off of him quickly and tossing it in the bin near him.

“that was… incredible.” she panted out, sitting up. “are you going to stay the night?”

“um.” he pursed his lips — quick, think of a lie. “sorry, i can’t, got to be up early for a team meeting.”

a team meeting, really? in the middle of the summer break?

…

for ella, it wasn't now the fact that when she had sex she didn't cum, it was the fact that she couldn't cum, full stop.

she'd even enlisted the help of her ex-boyfriend, jack. it was easy, really, ella had messaged him saying she missed him and asked if he wanted to come over.

surprise, surprise, he was of no use to her.

so, when a new week rolled around, both parties were distraught. lando for being such an idiot and calling off the deal, ella for not being able to cum no matter how hard she tried.

she was adamant that tonight was the night.

ella had even gone out and treated herself to some new lingerie — the prettiest deep blue matching bra and underwear from victoria’s secret.

she had to admit, she looked hot.

her delicate fingers shamefully ran down her tummy, squeezing the skin gently as the others toyed with her nipples.

usually, by now, she’d be writhing underneath lando and begging him for more — but he wasn’t here and neither was the pleasure he’d bring with him.

she imagined it was his veiny hands travelling down her body like a well-trained explorer, paying attention to the dips of her hips and the small bump of her v-line. it did something momentary for her, heat flushing down her inner thighs, but it quickly died along her chest after rolling up her tummy.

"fuck." she groaned, and not in a good way.

ella was about to reach to her bedside cabinet for one of her helpers, when a frantic knock echoed through her apartment — who on earth was at her door at seven on a sunday evening?

sluggishly, ella crawled out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown and wrapping it around her body.

knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

"god, okay, i'm coming." she huffed as she walked toward the door.

and there he was — the subject of her torture and her desires.

"la-"

hands frantically cupped her cheeks, pressing a needy kiss to her lips — okay, this definitely wasn't something that they usually did. nevertheless, she melted into the kiss, her hands travelling to the back of his head as he walked them forward and kicked the door shut behind him.

she pulled away reluctantly — "woah, woah, woah. what are you doing here? i thought you called the deal off?"

"i did, i missed you." he nodded, going to lean in desperately again, but he was stopped by her index finger on his lips.

"what the fuck are you doing then?" ella raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer from the brit.

"i like you, like a lot, ells." he blurted out. "like more than best friends."

what. the. fuck.

"huh." was all she could muster, blinking rapidly up at him.

"i mean if you don't feel the same i'll leave and we can—"

"no, no — just say it again so i know i'm not going insane." she shook her head, reassuring him that he wasn't about to be kicked out.

"ella ainsley, i like you, a lot."

"wow." her mouth hung slightly agape, and with a laugh, she continued, "oh! sorry, i like you too, so much."

"thank god." he breathed out, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "come here, pretty girl."

lando stepped forward and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist — she thought she could have actually cum from the action alone.

"be my girlfriend, please?"

"well, since you asked so nicely," she smiled with a blush. "yes, i will be your girlfriend, lando norris."

"good, 'cause i wasn't going to give you a choice anyway." he laughed softly, pressing another gentle peck to her lips as he navigated his way to her bedroom.

she rolled her eyes with a giggle, adjusting her arms around his neck as he walked through the doorway and toward her double bed. lando put her down on her feet, quickly undoing the bow at the front of her dressing gown — expecting her to be in pyjamas underneath or something.

his jaw hit the floor along with the robe — she looked fucking divine.

"fucking hell." he breathed out with a low groan, drinking in her body under the lace set — blue always was one of his favourite colours. "jesus ells."

"you like it?" she asked, the most innocent look in her eyes.

"fucking love it." he rasped, gently shoving her back onto the bed and taking his shirt off immediately. "look gorgeous."

an adorable blush spread across her features and a smile painted itself across her lips.

immediately, he leant down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck, trailing down to her chest — tapping her side and mumbling, "up," prompting her to arch up her back so he could undo her bra.

lando expertly unclasped the mechanism and slid the material off of her body, tossing it to the side. soft moans left her lips as he attached his lips to one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. two of his fingers travelled up to her mouth, tapping at her lips softly so he could slide his digits in.

she welcomed them warmly, sucking on them softly as he pressed them against her tongue. lando then quickly pulled them out with a low groan, and brought said fingers down to her other nipple, pinching and softly rolling it in between his fingers.

"please." ella whined as heat fizzed and bubbled all over her body.

"hm, what was that?" lando teased, looking directly up at her with a small smirk.

"lando.." she groaned with a small laugh. "just get on with it."

"how romantic." he joked, letting his now free hand travel down to her abdomen.

he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her underwear and pulled it up, letting it snap back against her tummy. lando watched the dazed look in her eyes as he shuffled downward, letting his lips press soft kisses on her stomach along the way — before latching his teeth onto her panties and slowly pulling them down.

god, he was a sight for sore eyes.

lando quickly then pulled them off the rest of the way, and spread her legs wide open before him. ella thought she had ascended to heaven when he gently let his spit find its way to her pussy, lubing her to no end.

he was merciless, giving her no warning at all before his tongue was aggressively flicking at her clit and two of his thick fingers were stuffed deep inside of her, finding that spongey spot that drove her wild.

"lando... fuck." she moaned loudly, trying to close her legs around his head, but failing when they fell weak upon feeling his spare hand pressing down on her lower stomach. "god... yes!"

he murmured something incoherently hot into her folds, the vibrations causing the magic knot in her stomach to coil nice and tight.

it was like heaven on earth. his lips sucked at her clit messily and the most lewd sounds were emerging from her due to her wetness and lando's extra lube — god, he loved it.

"lan—" she whimpered, she fucking whimpered; lando could have died in her pussy a happy man right there and then.

her mind flashed with warm colours, like warning lights in a factory — something was different about how he felt, and it was sending her barrelling toward her first orgasm of the evening.

"fuck, ells." lando groaned into her when her hand needily grabbed at his hair, running her nails through his mullet — she was definitely a mullet fan now.

"god — so close." ella whined so desperately, so loudly.

lando knew what made her tick — always had, always would. so, it was natural for him when he gently squeezed her clit between his teeth and scissored his fingers apart just that little bit harder — and it was no surprise to him when she fucking fluttered around him, her inner walls shaking violently as she came all over his fingers.

he pulled them out quickly, replacing his fingers with his tongue so he could taste the remnants of her ecstasy — so fucking sweet.

"taste so good, baby." he mumbled as he licked a stripe up her cunt.

her hips bucked away from his mouth, but his arms held her firmly downward — "hey, let me taste you, ells."

"too much." she breathed out, not really meaning it, but she felt so sensitive right now it was insane. "let me make you feel good, yeah?"

the words coming from her mouth made lando's head shoot up and look at her from between her thighs — "don't worry about me, darling."

"no, no." she shook her head. "i want to — missed your cock in my mouth." ella felt strange saying such lewd things but she could tell it was definitely turning lando on.

"oh yeah?" he teased. "missed me in your mouth?"

"yeah, always turns me on." she nodded quickly, sitting up. "on the bed, lan."

lando, for once, did as he was told. he sat on the bed as she got to her knees as quickly as possible.

he was wearing these baggy blue jeans with a basic black belt — ella's favourite pair because they were so easy to undo, even when she had nails on.

she undid the buckle and unbuttoned the jeans, before yanking them down his legs and let them pool at his ankles — too eager to throw them to the side.

ella took his cock in her hand, tracing her finger up the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft, earning a shudder from the driver above her. on the other hand, ella also knew what made lando tick, she knew he was a sucker for eye contact, that he would melt when she praised him, and the slit of his cock and his tip? she was sure she could get him to come without even touching any other part of him.

after sliding the pad of her thumb over his sensitive tip, and making his hips stutter up into her hand, ella got to work. as soon as her lips wrapped around his tip, lando's hand had gathered her hair back into a makeshift ponytail and was tightly holding it. she always did this, and it never failed — as if it was a routine; tease him by sucking on his tip for a little, then kiss his cock all over while muttering praises to him, and then literally go to fucking town on him while gazing up at him with pretty doe eyes — worked every fucking time.

so that's what she did.

"fucking hell, ells." lando moaned lowly as her tongue swirled around his tip, swiping over his slit every now and again.

she kept going until he was whining and whimpering, bucking his hips away from oversensitivity even though he hadn't cum yet. she then leant down and ran her tongue from the base to tip, before leaving messy lip gloss stains up his cock.

"good boy." she praised softly as he whined out, biting his lower lip and tossing his head back. "such a pretty boy."

"god—" he whimpered loudly. "fucking hell, baby, don't stop."

she pretended as if she was going to keep going, sticking her tongue out to lick him again, before quickly lifting her head up and sinking him slowly into her mouth.

her gag reflex kicked in around halfway down his cock, her throat convulsing and fluttering around him as he hit her tonsils — but she didn't care. tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she began to bob her head, fast.

"god...” lando groaned, head tossed back and hand gripping her hair so tightly as he began to thrust softly up into her mouth. "ella..."

it was so good he couldn't even look at her — he knew that if he looked at the angel between his legs then he was a dead man.

and boy was he right.

a brief look at the woman on her knees with her mouth wrapped around his aching cock was enough to make him spiral — a guttural groan left his lips and his hips bucked up into her mouth, the feeling of his tip hitting the back of her throat making thick ropes of hot cum spill into her mouth, coating her tonsils generously.

"fuck, ells." lando panted heavily, wiping a small bit of his release off of the side of her mouth — before pushing it into her mouth again.

he went soft for a few seconds, but the sight of her getting up and sitting on his lap? that made all the blood rush straight back to his cock, aching and twitching.

"no, no." he tutted.

with his strength alone, he lifted her from his lap and laid himself down on the bed, putting her down on his face. ella almost yelped at the feeling of his nose pressing against her clit, her hips lifting off of him immediately.

"sensitive, baby?" he teased, hands squeezing her ass firmly — earning a quick nod. "what a shame."

lando's hands stayed planted firmly on her ass cheeks, kneeding them softly as he pulled her back down onto his face. his nose pressed against her clit as his tongue slipped inside of her, swirling around her walls — her thighs clenched around his head harshly.

slowly but surely, the sensitivity faded to overwhelming pleasure, and ella began to grind her hips back and fourth, whiny, airy moans leaving her lips every time her clit was poked by his nose.

"fuck—" she moaned loudly, frantically searching for purchase with her hands, finally finding home in his hair. "lando... yes—"

it was when her thighs began to clench and shake, when her walls began to flutter around his tongue, when her hands grabbed extra hard at his hair, when her moans turned airy and high-pitched — he knew.

the feeling of his nose grinding against her clit sent her over the edge, combined with his conveniently long tongue pressing against her g-spot — she was well and truly gone.

“yeah — right there. fuck!”

lando didn’t let up at all, if anything, his efforts doubled. his nose dug into her clit, sending her flying over the edge. the warm liquid gushed out of her, coating his lips and nose and cheeks and chin — he relished the moment like it was his last alive. her legs trembled and shook like a fucking earthquake, his nose now tapping against her sensitive spots as she bucked her hips from oversensitivity.

"god—" ella panted out, lando moving her back onto his lap, before then flipping her over so her perfect ass was high up in the air for him.

he could see her pretty entrance clenching and relaxing, fluttering in the harsh aftershocks of her orgasm — drawing him in.

"gonna let me have this one day, aren't you, pretty girl?" lando cooed, his voice soft but raspy, with his thumb toying with the untouched hole enticing him — anal was something he'd always wanted to try with ella, and ella only.

"yeah — uh huh." she babbled, her hips voluntarily pushing back toward him, now feeling incredibly empty without him stuffed deep inside of her, one way or another. "please."

"give me a second, baby." he rasped, leaning over to her bedside cabinet to grab a condom — only for her hand to swat his away.

"no, want to feel you properly." ella whined. "need to."

"are you sure, ells?" lando asked quietly — they'd never had sex without a condom before.

"i'm sure." she replied, looking back at him, blinking at the driver in anticipation.

lando actually thought he could have died right there and then, her begging was driving him insane. "okay." he panted out.

he softly presses forward, running the tip of his aching cock through her folds — his member pressing against her clit briefly. lando groaned out at the feeling of his sensitive tip sliding inside of her, feeling whole and complete and at home inside her.

no time was wasted, he was pumping in and out of her almost immediately, tapping her g-spot delicately to taunt her.

she whined and whimpered and writhed underneath him, moaning incoherently as he fucked her senseless. her hips pushed back against him to meet his steady thrusts - he immediately knew that meant she wanted it harder, but not faster.

lando quickly altered the angle at which he was pushing forward at, and he could straight away tell that was what she needed. his thick cock was now slamming against her g-spot, and it made him even more determined to ruin her. a veiny hand reached between her legs, flicking effortlessly at her clit, her hips jolting and legs buckling as his thumb circled it quickly. he wanted to make her fall apart.

not that he could see it, but tears were streaming down her face, moans turning needier and more carnal as he started to whimper louder than he was previously.

"touch yourself, baby." he commanded, voice sultry and low.

her hand made its way to her dripping pussy, rubbing shapes and patterns on her clit, as lando's hand occupied itself with pressing down on her lower stomach.

one particularly deep thrust made her collapse, ella's lower body begging to be released, but the singular hand lando had placed on her stomach kept her up, doubling the size of the knot in her tummy in the process.

his name fell from her lips like a fucking prayer, rolling off of her tongue with such ease it might as well have been an everyday item - mixed with whines of 'right there' and 'don't stop, please.'

and fall apart she did.

another one of those impossibly deep thrusts sent her spiralling, tears streaming, throat raw, pussy clenching like her life depended on it. her whole body tensed and relaxed all at the same time, walls constricting around him, fluttering and shaking and squeezing so intensely lando though he was actually going to die.

he didn't die, but he did cum - hard. hot, thick liquid shot out of his tip, filling her up so much it began to leak out of her, dripping down her inner thighs as her legs shook harshly. he kept thrusting though his own orgasm, somehow, causing the familiar clear liquid to gush from her sensitive pussy and coat his balls, her legs, the once clean sheets - if he could take a photo, he would.

he pulled out as slowly as he could, very much aware of the fact that she would be sore after that entire ordeal. she winced softly, but lando just gazed down at her puckered hole, screaming and red, fluttering and unsure of what to do with itself without him stuffed inside.

"you okay, baby?" lando asked softly, rolling her onto her back gently.

"fuck- yeah... god." she babbled, breathless and heaving slightly.

he laughed airly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. he headed to the bathroom, and she closed her eyes. the next thing ella knew, a warm flannel was being pressed in between her legs, and her hips were involuntarily bucking away from the pressure.

"hey, hey, stay still, okay?" he quietly cooed, rubbing her inner thigh lovingly. "can you do that for me?"

an unsure hum left her lips, and after a few attempts, her body began to settle and lando continued to clean her up, wiping the remnants of their mixed release off of her body, and then afterward he scurried back off to the bathroom to do the same for himself.

lando returned again a few minutes later, holding a change of clothes and a glass of water for her - having now gotten dressed into some spare clothes he kept at her apartment.

"ells?" he murmured as he sat down next to her splayed out body on the bed. "i've got you some clothes, if you want them?"

she nodded, lifting her arms up into the air so she could put her arms through the t-shirt. she never let him dress her afterward, she must have been really out of it.

lando laughed fondly, helping the girl dress before assisting her into bed, tucking her in before crawling in next to her. it was natural for her to roll into his arms, and when she did, lando naturally pulled her in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"night, lan." she mumbled.

"goodnight, love."

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: me posting twice in the same month?? someone do a welfare check

warning: age gap mentioned (bc I’m a slut) but not extensively or in a weird way bc Spencer’s not a pervert lol

Moth To A Flame

Closing the bathroom door with your own back, you slide down it until you’re sitting on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest and taking a shaky breath. You shouldn’t call him while crying, you know better than that, but you know your own tells enough to hope you can mask them; a futile effort considering who you intend to call at 3am.

Lifting your phone to your ear, you hear it ring no more than twice before your prayers are answered, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Spencer.” You greet him quietly, smiling from just saying his name.

“Hi, sunshine. How are you?” Spencer’s voice is calm and collected, but it’s clear through the phone he’s delighted to hear from you.

There’s no question raised regarding the time at which you’re calling. But no matter how many times this happens, Spencer always enquires after your wellbeing.

“I’m okay, thank you. Just…you know. How are you?” The question is returned, though neither of you are a fan of small talk.

“Yes,” Spencer responds specifically to the insinuation he knows, because he does. Then, he continues, “-I’m well, too, thank you.”

His words, and what goes left unsaid, makes your smile grow.

“What’re you reading?” You ask, and the quiet chuckle you hear from Spencer is enough to prove you right in your assumption of his reason for being awake at this hour.

“Pride And Prejudice. How did you know I was reading?” He wonders aloud with a fondness in his voice that he reserves only for you.

“When aren’t you reading?” You roll your eyes playfully, and Spencer can practically hear it.

“When I’m sleeping.” He quips, his own smile evident in his voice.

It’s enough to have you laughing softly into the phone, which only serves to make Spencer’s smile grow.

“Read me some?” You request quietly.

Like you ever need to ask.

Spencer clears his throat into the phone.

“After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began, ‘In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness…” Spencer reads aloud, and the smile on your face is almost as soft as his voice sounds through the phone.

By the end of the chapter, your eyes have drifted closed and your head is tipped back against the bathroom door behind you. Hearing how calm your breathing has become, Spencer pauses, and you hear him close the book.

“See you in the morning?” He always asks because on the rare chance you’ll say no, at least he has time to mentally prepare for your absence. Tonight is not the night for that.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow…Thank you.” You reply, already feeling close to sleep.

This stumps Spencer momentarily, and he falters before he replies, “For what?”

And there’s only one thing you can say to that.

“Being you.”

Spencer chuckles sheepishly, “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

Of course he doesn’t. Perhaps, if he was anyone else, you’d stand a chance.

“Goodnight, Spencer.” You tell him gently.

“Goodnight, sunshine.” There’s a second of warm silence as you savor the sound of each other’s quiet breathing, and then you both hang up the call.

Standing up from where you’d been sitting on the bathroom floor, you take another deep breath before reaching for the door handle. Walking through a house that isn’t yours, into a living room where the sound of snoring from the couch makes you want to tear your hair out, past a kitchen where a cheap measly pile of four red roses lie limp on the counter with a post-it note in place of any kind of meaningful card, up the staircase where framed photographs filled with eyes that aren’t on your side stare down at you judgmentally, until you’re safely confined in the bedroom you feel doomed to. Crawling into your side of the bed, you adjust the pillows that occupy the other side, filling the space in a shape long enough to resemble the shape of someone under your bedcovers. And with Spencer’s voice still in your ears wishing you a good night, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Spencer adjusts his alarm clock to wake him an hour earlier than necessary, and awakens from a peaceful slumber with a determined mission in mind. Once his normal morning routine is complete, instead of driving to the office, he drives to his preferred florist, who greets him with a knowing smile when Spencer walks in.

“Another dozen?” The florist guesses.

“Please.” Spencer nods, smiling politely.

Retrieving his wallet from his back pocket, Spencer pays for the flowers and graciously thanks the florist, taking the flowers and then leaving the establishment to return to his car. He drives back home, placing the dozen flowers in a glass vase that he keeps pristine for this very purpose, with the perfect level of water for optimal growth for this specific species of flower. Very carefully, Spencer inspects them until he determines which has the prettiest bloom today, and that is the one he elects to remove from the vase, carefully securing its stem in seran wrap and placing it in the pocket of his suit jacket, then continuing on his normal journey into work.

Purposely, Spencer arrives earlier than the rest of the team, so that he can execute his plan without interruptions. From the staff kitchen, he chooses the most elegant looking glass he can find and again pours the perfect level of water - this time for just one flower, specifically - unwrapping the single bloom in his suit jacket and setting in the glass. He then walks to your desk and positions it in an aesthetically pleasing location, but already knows it is not enough. The picture is not complete. It must be perfect for you. Briefly visiting his own desk, Spencer opens the drawer to take a piece of his own parchment paper, from which he cuts a small section that he then folds in half. On what appears to be the front of the folded piece, he maps out a constellation in a dot-to-dot sketch, then inside the fold of paper, he writes the story behind it. After several attempts, Spencer finds the perfect angle at which to place the folded piece of paper next to the flower on the desk, and only then does he return to his usual morning routine of making himself a coffee in the staff kitchen. Counting down the minutes.

By the time you get to the office, you’ve pushed the thoughts of your home from your mind and have a bright smile on your face, looking forward to a day spent working with your friends and not thinking about-

“(Y/N)! I just saw! He got you roses! That’s SO cute! You have, like, the best boyfriend!” Penelope squeals as she runs up to you the very second you walk through the glass doors of the bullpen.

Your heart sinks and your eyebrows furrow.

“You saw?”

Penelope nods excitedly, gesturing to her phone, where she shows you the post your boyfriend had made on social media: a picture he had taken of the four red roses he’d bought you that he filtered to high heaven to make them look more grand than they were, with a caption that said ‘happy four and many more, babe x’. If it weren’t for the sake of keeping your business private - something he clearly cares for about as much as he does you - you’d scoff.

“Oh, yeah. Must’ve missed that he posted that.” You plaster a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, walking side by side with Penelope towards your desk.

“It was your four year anniversary, right? Did you do anything fancy?” She’s giddy on your behalf.

“No, just had a quiet night in.” You provide an excuse, the most generous blanket statement you could have given to the shambles that were your boyfriend’s anniversary plans.

Your dejectedness, however, is abruptly cut short when your gaze lands on your desk. A single bloom of your favorite flower, with a neatly folded handwritten note of a constellation placed next to it. In a microsecond, you’re turning to where Spencer sits at his desk, hiding his smirk behind his cup of coffee.

“You didn’t!” You feign chastisement, but your giddiness is obvious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer shrugs, his smile as obvious as yours is.

You’re practically bouncing on the spot when you bring the little glass and the delicate flower within to your face to breathe in the sweet scent.

“These aren’t even in season anymore, Spencer, how did you-“

The question is cut short by a magician who never reveals his secrets.

“I played no part in this, but perhaps someone happens to know somebody else who is equipped to grow them on request.” There’s a teasing lilt to his otherwise matter-of-fact tone, and you are shaking your head in absolute disbelief.

Setting the glass back down on your desk, you pick up the constellation, admiring it carefully before folding it and placing it in your desk drawer, in amongst another 30-something hand drawn constellations. The smile is still lingering on your face when you sit down at your desk, and from where Spencer sits at his, his chest feels warm. So much joy from you at the cost of only an hour’s less sleep and a few more dollars than the asking price of your favorite flowers. Perhaps, tonight you won’t call him trying to hide that you’d been crying again, he hopes. Whether that comes to fruition or not, he has another eleven blooms waiting in his apartment to gift you at random intervals to surprise you and keep your tears at bay for as long as he can, without you ever telling him there was a chance of them falling. He knows.

For the rest of the day, Spencer catches you glancing at the flower on your desk while you work through various reports and paperwork, an almost shy smile lighting up your face every time you see it there.

It’s only when the team begins packing up for the day that Spencer thinks to look into what Penelope had referenced that morning- a post of some kind? Easily enough, Spencer finds your boyfriend’s social media on his computer, and what he discovers makes him borderline violent. Four years together, encompassed by four measly roses and what you called a ‘quiet night in’ that was so beyond underwhelming you ended your evening by calling Spencer from your bathroom. A celebration of that scale warranted only four red roses, while the mere hint you’d been crying was enough for Spencer to visit the florist he pays specifically to keep growing your favorite flowers for you, to buy another dozen that he intends to deliver to you one by one at irregular intervals. Still, it isn’t Spencer’s job to compensate for what is clearly absent from your relationship; at least, not consciously.

“Babe!” A voice calls out that has Spencer using every ounce of strength he possesses to withhold from rolling his eyes. Shutting down his computer, he stands from his desk just in time to see your expression fall where you pack away your things at your own desk.

Turning to face your boyfriend, you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You ask shortly.

Excellent question, Spencer thinks.

“Just came to surprise you and drive you home!” Your boyfriend exclaims like it’s some kind of achievement, opening his arms in a big gesture as he approaches your desk.

How considerate, ambushing you at your workplace under the guise of it being a nice surprise, Spencer scoffs internally, deliberately slowing the pace at which he readies his satchel to leave the office.

“Oh. Thanks.” You don’t know what else to say. “I’ll be ready in a second.” You add, feeling like you’re defaulting to basic lines of dialogue to avoid awkward silences.

“Great!” Your boyfriend exclaims, looking around the bullpen like he’s never seen the place before - he has, twice, and Spencer wishes his eidetic memory would allow him to erase the memory of your discomfort during both instances - until his eyes land on a face he recognises, and he grins.

“Spencer! My man!” Your boyfriend yells, and your eyes widen as you watch him walk right over to Spencer and pull him into a bro-hug that immediately has Spencer rigidly uncomfortable.

“I’ve told you-“ You implore, shooting Spencer an apologetic and pleading look before your boyfriend starts talking over you.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, man, forgot you’re weird about touching people.” He laughs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

You scowl, parting your lips to bite his head off, but Spencer steps in to prevent you from saying something that’ll only cause more arguments for you when you go home.

“I have an acute awareness and disliking towards unfamiliar germs and contact.” Spencer corrects your boyfriend firmly, aware that only you and him realize what he means by a germ in this context.

“Yeah, man, no worries.” Your boyfriend laughs, like he’s the funniest man in the world to himself. “Ready to go, babe?” He asks you.

“Mhmm.” Another tight-lipped smile, and that’s apparently convincing enough for your boyfriend, who wraps an arm around your waist in a careless action rather than something that should be treasured, and would be treasured by the man you look over your shoulder to give one last apologetic expression to.

That is, until Emily steps out of her office and calls over to you, “Don’t forget about Rossi’s party!”

And you literally wince.

“A party?! Oh man! Can’t wait! Thanks, Emmers!” Your boyfriend answers for you, regarding a party you had deliberately neglected to mention to him, and then he’s all but dragging you out of the office.

Once out of earshot, Spencer actually does scoff.

“Emmers?” Emily asks him with a frown from where she stands on the raised walkway, leaning on the railing.

“A shocking breach of social etiquette to assume a nickname for someone he barely knows.” Spencer clarifies, to which Emily nods.

“You still not coming to Rossi’s tonight?” She elects to ask him, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

Spencer sighs heavily. He looks down at his desk, then lifts his head to look over at the elevator doors closing, snatching the view of you away. He knows what will happen tonight. He knows.

The mirror stares back at him. If someone told Spencer a year ago that he’d be attending a work related get together he’d initially rejected the invitation of but went back on himself solely in the hopes that his suit of choice would impress a coworker just over half his age who has a boyfriend, Spencer would have walked right out of prison and requested a psych eval. Still, the thought at the forefront of his mind is that 6 months and 8 days ago he had worn an all-black suit on a case that you had complimented. It is a foolish dream to think you would compliment him for it again, but for you, Doctor Spencer Reid is a proud fool.

Much to your own embarrassment, you and your boyfriend knock at Rossi’s door an hour late, and based on your expression it is not difficult for Spencer to deduce it’s not your fault. Or, it wouldn’t have been difficult if his brain hadn’t short-circuited at the sight of you wearing a thin strapped, floor length purple silk dress that hugged your every curve to the extent that when Spencer rose from his seat in a gentlemanly gesture at your entrance, his knees very nearly buckled beneath him to a position of worship. Your boyfriend’s arm is careless around your waist again, and he drops it not to pull your chair out for you at the table, but to bro-hug David Rossi, who looks at him like he spat in his bowl of pasta. In your disgruntled state, it takes you a second to acknowledge that Spencer is standing, and in between greeting the rest of the team, your eyes continually flit back to him, his heart skipping a beat each and every time in a way that only further convinces him he is in the midst of a medical emergency. Finally, your gaze lingers on him, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

“Can I get you a drink? Rossi’s minibar has some of your favorites.” Spencer gestures with the hand not holding his own drink, and without so much as looking to your plus one, you nod and walk around the table.

His large hand ghosts the small of your back, fingers flexing, but he doesn’t allow himself to make contact until he counts the microseconds to cross the distance that takes you both away from every other pair of eyes in this house. The heat of Spencer’s fingertips meet the purple silk of your dress, barely there, but oh, do you feel it.

Once safely standing at the minibar, Spencer only needs to watch your face to see which bottle your eyes light up at, and as soon as he notices, he pours you a glass without you having to ask. In a gesture that feels like a secret, the two of you clink your glasses together and lock eyes to take a simultaneous sip.

“Nice suit.” You nod at Spencer, a shy smile forming behind your glass.

“Thank you.” He tries not to choke on his drink, then nods back at you. “Pretty dress.”

You have to bite your lip to prevent your smile from growing any bigger.

“Thank you. The color reminded me of your scarf.” You remark quietly, and if you weren’t a profiler, you probably wouldn’t notice the almost imperceptible widening of Spencer’s eyes at your words.

“It is a similar shade.” He agrees, his heart in his throat.

Comfortable silence settles between you. Eyes locked, nursing your drinks, your free hands hanging idly at your sides. Standing just a little too close. Fingers almost touching.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” You say eventually.

Spencer shakes his head dismissively. “I appreciate it, but his oversights aren’t your responsibility.” Or your burden, he so badly wants to add.

You sigh. “If he overstepped the boundaries of a guy who was less of a man than you, he could’ve got his face caved in.”

And what a shame that would have been, Spencer muses in his own mind.

“I didn’t escalate the situation, but not because I’m a man- because it wasn’t a worthy cause.” He amends.

“So if there was a worthy cause, you’d have clocked him?” You giggle at the idea.

“Possibly.” Definitely, Spencer smirks.

“What constitutes a worthy cause in the mind of Doctor Spencer Reid?” You tease, tilting your head to look up at him with a curious twinkle in your eyes.

“If he made you cry.” Spencer chooses his words very carefully, and inspects every micro expression on your face in response.

Because your boyfriend has made you cry, you know that, and you know Spencer knows too, despite the fact you haven’t ever stated as such. He knows. All you’d have to do is say the word, and Spencer would walk right back into the dining room, grab your boyfriend by his collar in front of the entire team, drag him outside and beat him to a pulp in the street.

If Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he probably wouldn’t notice the almost imperceptible widening of your eyes at his words.

“Babe! There you are! Rossi’s served us up a couple plates of something with a name I can’t pronounce- Spencer! Hey, man!” Your boyfriend’s agitating, grating voice cuts into the peaceful bubble you and Spencer had been existing in.

Sharing an equally irritated glance, you both turn to face him.

“Linguine alla Puttanesca.” Spencer drawls.

“Yeah, something like that, for sure!” Your boyfriend laughs, loudly, and without you saying a word, his arm is thrown around your waist again, stealing you from Spencer - who trails behind with a scowl fixed on your boyfriend’s arm - and returning to the dining room.

At the table, you sit opposite Spencer, with your boyfriend sitting on your left. You’re grateful for the casual conversation in the room taking his attention away from you for the most part, allowing you the peace of eating without him saying something that makes you want to vomit.

“Been thinking of getting some sleeping pills myself, not been sleeping too good on the couch!”

Nevermind.

Your eyes close in a pained blink, and you lift your napkin with an unnecessarily firm grip to wipe at your mouth.

“Oh. You’ve not got…comfy cushions?” Penelope tries to save the conversation, but the awkward silence has already descended upon the table at your boyfriend’s blatant overshading at your expense.

“Nope, barely been sleeping a wink! I miss my own bed, I’ll tell you that!” Your boyfriend laughs.

Setting your napkin down, you keep your gaze fixed on your half empty plate. You can feel eyes on you. Everywhere.

“A dinner party with your partner’s friends is not the social setting for discussing your relationship.” Spencer quips, releasing enough tension in your chest to allow you a breath.

“Don’t worry, bro, she doesn’t mind!” Your boyfriend nudges you with his arm, and you are rigid.

“Nobody at this table requires a profiling skillset to determine that (Y/N) does mind.” Spencer’s protective nature is bristling.

“Oh yeah, bet you profilers can just look and tell exactly what her problem is, huh?!” Your boyfriend laughs. “Go on, guess!” He demands of the table, like he’s prepping a joke with the greatest punchline in human history.

The table is silent. You close your eyes in a pained blink, begging any god that may exist, please, please-

“She won’t sleep with me!” Your boyfriend roars with laughter, and time slows to an agonizing halt.

The only accompanying sounds are cutlery clattering against plates, then two chairs scraping against the floor.

“That’s enough. Get out.” Rossi points at the door.

“With pleasure.” Spencer’s tone is cool as ice. In a fraction of a second, he rounds the table, grabs your boyfriend by his collar and drags him out of Rossi’s dining room, to the front door.

While the rest of the team crowd around you to check you’re okay, you’re shaking your hand and scrambling to stand, running outside. Spencer’s fists grip your boyfriend’s collar, pinning him to the side of his car.

“-and if I ever find you within a five mile radius of her, I’ll ruin your life without breaking a single law.” He seethes.

“She’s barely even my girlfriend, man, she doesn’t even put out! You can have her!” Your ex boyfriend holds his hands up in surrender while signing his own death warrant.

Spencer’s right hook sends him hurtling against the sidewalk, and Spencer is on him in the blink of an eye. Trapping him under his legs, Spencer delivers punch after punch, hearing bones crack with the force but only seeing red, until Rossi and Luke physically pull him off, and even then he tries to fight past them to carry on.

“Kid, kid, take a breath- you got him!” Rossi gently pats Spencer’s back, and with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, you appear in front of him.

“Spencer.” You breathe his name with an unnamed emotion, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, and his glazed over eyes that hadn’t been able to look anywhere but the bloody mess on sidewalk, find you in an instant.

Emily is already calling in some favors with the local police department to get this resolved with minimal assault charges, if possible.

“C’mon, inside.” You tell Spencer gently, taking one of his trembling, bloody hands in yours and guiding him back into Rossi’s house.

Taking him past the dining room, you find the kitchen and lead Spencer to lean against the empty counter beside the sink. Very carefully, you hold both of his hands under the cold water to wash them free of blood. It doesn’t take you long to realize the blood doesn’t just come from your ex-boyfriend. He’s running on adrenaline, breathing heavily, half watching you and half watching the doorway, as if expecting someone else to walk in that he has to take out to protect you.

Once his hands are as clean as you can get them, you retrieve some ice packs from Rossi’s freezer and hold them to Spencer’s swollen, bloody knuckles. You can’t look away from them.

“Are you in any pain yet?” You ask in a small voice.

“None.” Spencer answers sharply, gaze fixed on the doorway now because he can keep you in his peripheral vision, mind locked in fight or flight mode with an obvious winner.

“This is all my fault, Spencer, I’m so sorry- if I’d have broken up with him…” Your forehead drops to Spencer’s chest, pressing against the fabric of his black tie.

Those words catch him so off guard that he falters, and then frowns.

“None of this is in any way your fault.” Spencer states bluntly.

“If I’d broken up with him already, he wouldn’t have been here, wouldn’t have said those things in front of y- Spencer!” You cut yourself off when your reminder of what your ex had said has Spencer trying to move past you to go back outside and start right where he left off, having no choice but to grab his arm in an effort to stop him.

Realistically, you are not strong enough to hold Spencer in place. If he wanted to, he could push past you easily, but your hand on him could disarm a nuclear bomb if he was its power source.

“Don’t. Please. Stay.” You plead.

Like you ever have to ask.

Spencer settles back against the counter, one of his cold, bloody hands lifting to cup the back of your head, tilting your forehead back to his chest hold you there.

“By the same token, I could have prevented this, had I said what’s been unsaid.” Spencer murmurs into your hair.

“That’s way less fair than the point I made.” You remark, which has him smirking against the top of your head.

“Don’t get smart with me when I’m running on adrenaline.” Spencer warns playfully.

“Don’t get flirty when you just beat a guy to a pulp for disrespecting me.” You counter, causing him to scoff quietly.

“That reminds me, I must amend a previous statement.” Spencer says, and you can’t resist tilting your head back to look up at him, his hands immediately shaking free of their icepacks to cup your cheeks.

“Mhmm?” You press.

“I said all it would take for me to clock him would be him making you cry, this has proven to be incorrect. Based on my actions tonight, I can safely say if he made you cry, I would kill him.” Spencer speaks with a tone so soft you’d think he was complimenting you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks so tenderly while he threatens your ex’s very life.

“Wow. Big words for a man who hasn’t even taken me out on a first date.” You smirk.

“Moving a little fast, aren’t we, sunshine?” Spencer quips teasingly, his own smirk forming.

“A year of tiptoeing around each other while I was in a relationship is only moving a little fast by the standards of the romance novels you read, Doc.” You joke.

“Touché.” Spencer laughs fondly down at you. “Does this mean I can finally attempt to court you, fair lady?”

Butterflies that he singlehandedly commands, fly free in your stomach.

“I’d say so.” You answer softly, and Spencer breathes the deepest sigh of relief.

He leans down to rest his forehead against yours, ever so gently bumping his nose to yours in the most tender gesture of affection.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Spencer whispers, his breath fanning your lips.

“Anything.” You murmur.

Spencer smiles at the breathlessness he can already hear in your voice, solely caused by his proximity. Time slows to the most beautiful halt as he leans in, leaving the softest kiss at the corner of your mouth, barely even touching your lips.

“It was me who left a flower on your desk.”

[seokshinedk]

Day 2 of teaching seminar for our voice clinic and the girls were definitely in their feelings tonight🥲🥲🥲

[sillyuin]

I'm all yours

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, very domestic fluff.

Pairing: Mingyu x gn!reader.

Warnings: Reader is ill, barely proofread, Mingyu husband material.

- Yuin's note: I forgot I'm self-aware and wrote the most delulu and self-indulgent thing I'd ever write. An ode to my fellow carats who are also getting through sickness.

You didn’t hear the door open, the cheerful voice of Mingyu was the only thing perceptible beyond the pain you were feeling, and even thought it supposed to make you happy, it was difficult to smile. It was much easier to rest your head on his shoulder, wrap your arms around his waist with the little strength you could have, and brush your lips against his neck with a gentle kiss.

“I'm here,” Mingyu responded by hugging you gently, your body trembled slightly and felt cold to the touch. “How was your day?”

“Bad…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s been… the worst…”

The words got stuck in your throat and your mind went blank; the physical pain was so strong it prevented you from speaking. You felt helpless—why was it so hard to just say that your ear hurt? Or was that really all that was bothering you?

Your trembling hands clung to Mingyu's sweater in a hug so tight it almost hurt, while you hid your face in his chest to keep him from seeing your eyes fill with tears. But what started as a weak sob soon turned into an intense wail, impossible to ignore.

“Hey, y/n,” Mingyu patted your back to try to get your attention, but the more he tried to soothe you, the more futile it became.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered between sobs. “… I’ve felt so … alone.”

Mingyu patiently led you to the sofa, where you both sat down. Seeing you cry so inconsolably broke his heart; hearing your trembling, fragile voice expressing all sorts of sad things… It seemed so unfair that only you were going through it.

However, watching you catch your breath little by little was quite comforting.

You told him how your day had gone while he held one of your hands and gently stroked your cheek with the other. Physically, you felt terrible, but the contact of his skin against yours made everything a little more bearable, as if the pain were not that important…

“My neck hurts all over,” you indicated where it hurt with your finger, and he frowned, as if he somehow understood what you were describing. “I don’t think the medicine is helping…”

“This is the second time this year…” Mingyu sighed, frustrated. “Maybe you should change your treatment.”

“Again?” you complained. More than stressed, you were starting to feel depressed. “I’ve lost count of how many pills I’ve taken…”

The truth was he didn’t quite know what to say; he was worried, his mind a jumble of questions. All he could do was hugging you and that was all you needed in that moment.

You had spent the day alone while he was out at work, feeling upset and very sad, but it was better to take the moment to forget a little about all the negative thoughts attacking your mind.

Mingyu seemed to be the only remedy at that moment, and you clung tenaciously to that.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk to the doctor,” Mingyu pulled away a little and patted your hair. “For now, I'm all yours. Tell me what you want and I'll do it.”

You lowered your gaze shyly, wondering whether to say what was on your mind, but you felt encouraged by hearing Mingyu’s laughter. He knew you so well; there was nothing you could hide from him.

“What do you want for dinner?” His face was only a few centimeters from yours, and you started to feel a bit shyer.

“Pizza…?” you lifted your face slightly, giving him puppy eyes.

“Weren’t you on a diet?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow, but your pouty face was more convincing than him. “Alright, but only this time.”

About twenty minutes later the doorbell rang, announcing the delivery. You both sat down at the dining table and ate together while he told you about his day at work, chatting and laughing as if you hadn’t seen each other in ages.

Having Mingyu by your side was one of the best things that had ever happened to you because no matter how terrible the day had been or how sad it was to be ill; you could always have his company and comfort at the end of the day, and that made even the bad things worth it.

After dinner, you both sat on the living room couch to watch a movie, a warm blanket covering you as you searched for something to watch. Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing to focus all his attention on you.

“y/n, how do you feel now?” he tilted his head slightly while smiling.

“Better,” you replied, a little livelier.

“If you’re okay, I’m okay,” he turned his gaze back to the TV screen, holding the remote as he started scrolling through the channels. “Let me know if there’s anything you want to watch.”

“Actually…” You took the remote and turned off the TV. A surprised Mingyu was ready to object and defend himself, but he froze when he felt your head resting in the nook of his neck, one of your legs wrapped around his. “… I just want to hear you.”

“Shall I tell you about when I almost set the kitchen on fire because I was drunk?” Mingyu said casually, his hand resting on your waist.

“I was there, remember?” It sounded more like a tragicomedy than anything else. “The worst ramen you ever made.”

You both laughed softly; you were exhausted, and the night grew heavier while the dim light from a nearby lamp made everything feel more intimate, cozier.

“I love your voice,” you said lazily, your body nearly collapsing on top of him. “Sing for me, Gyu.”

In the silence of the living room, under the warm blanket, you finally managed to rest peacefully without thinking about the pain that tormented you. In the distance, you could hear his voice, tired yet charming at the same time, as you closed your eyes, feeling the warm beats of his heart against yours.

[lijojo]

genshin sugar daddies: leaving hickeys on you

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. it’s a bit overwhelming, but you try you’re best to keep each relationship relatively independent from the other. that means no hickeys. except, well, each one of them wants to make you theirs exclusively and they’re not above marking you secretly to send a message to tomorrow’s person. (yandere! possessive! genshin reverse harem x reader) (modern au!) 

*if you want more yandere genshin sugar daddy content the introduction is here but this can be a standalone read! 

tags: nsfw, dark content, afab reader, fingering, dirty-talk, unprotected sex, dub-con, smut smut smut smut smut

diluc is no stranger to jealousy. you can sense it in the way his eyes constantly beckon for yours. the way he grips tightly onto your waist. he never asks anything more than your gaze on monday evenings. they have to be on him. always. not for a second more are you allowed to look at anything else but him. he’s greedy, always pulling you to look at him once more. naturally, his gaze is always on you. 

you feel it drag up and down your back. crawl into the little dip in your neckline to see what’s underneath your clothes. 

so the one time, the one time, kaeya’s crafty attempts to leave hickeys on your folds and inner thighs in the midst of eating you out, diluc catches it. 

he sees it the moment he peels off your panties. what should’ve been a slow sequence of him sinking his tongue into your pussy is immediately halted at the sight of a very small but noticeable bruise in the juncture between your thighs and your labia minora. 

kaeya’s warning. 

the change in his demeanor is undeniable. his heavy gaze flits over to your face. intentful. unaware of the hickey, you’re understandably confused. 

if diluc’s seen something, he doesn’t tell you. instead, he internalizes the sight. it’s a warning and a challenge. 

mine. 

he’s quick to grab onto your wrists and pin them above your head. before you can brace yourself, he’s slipped a finger inside you. you gasp at the sudden intrusion, but welcome him as he curls his finger towards him, gently brushing against that spongy spot that leaves you breathless. 

he chuckles lightly as you roll your eyes back. his thumb presses on your clit, nudging it side to side. “you’re soaking wet,” he mutters, sliding another two fingers inside you. “all for me?” 

your hold on the sheets tightens. 

he leans closer to your ear. “i can’t wait to smear the remnants of your orgasm on my cock. make it slick enough to slip inside you. make you feel good. we want my darling to feel really good, right?”

you hiss when he starts thrusting his fingers into you at rapid speed. desperate. eager to make you spill your affection onto his hands. 

“that wasn’t a rhetorical question, sweetheart.”

you can’t help the moan that leaves you as you approach your climax. “y-yes! yes—ah—diluc!” 

his grin looks so unlike him. his thumb starts to draw circles on your clit, going quicker and quicker the more you squirm and moan. 

“cum on me. do it for me, princess. cum all over my hand. give me all your everything.”

you can barely understand the undertone in his words. instead, you reach your high. your orgasm pours out of you, onto his beckoning fingers. and instead of letting you go, he continues mercilessly until your left whining for him to stop. 

and he does. eventually. he slowly pulls his digits out of your crying cunt. he collects the droplets that trickle out of your lower lips and let’s it drip onto his twitching dick. he runs his hands along his shaft, letting out a shaky groan. 

“look how pretty you’ve made me. this is all you, darling.” 

he fucks you like it’s he’ll die if he doesn’t. blinded by the mixture of pain and pleasure, you close your eyes and submit to the feeling of overwhelming bliss. 

you’re so overwhelmed, that you don’t register how he’s kissing your neck like a man on a mission. 

დ

the two of you are in the middle of a normal tuesday brunch when childe sees it. when you turn to accept the menu from the waiter, he can see the slightest marks that you couldn’t hide, even with the most expensive foundation. 

you curse internally when you see his eyes narrow in on you. you should’ve known better than to ever believe that diluc would ever follow one of your only rules: no hickeys. 

and now childe, notoriously competitive, will feel compelled to have his fill. 

you should’ve worn a scarf. 

you thought that the position of the hickey, and the slight fadedness your foundation was barely able to provide would’ve been enough. you were wrong. 

like a built-in reflex, you smile. “what’s the matter? is there something wrong?”

he gives you a smile, an all-knowing smile as he takes the menu from you. “nothing is wrong at all, girlie. i’m just admiring that new necklace i bought you.”

you’re good at pretending nothing’s wrong, so you fiddle the crystals with your hand. “i love the way it shimmers,” you add, “i love how sparkly you’ve made me.” 

if you’ve done anything to settle his displeasure, he doesn’t show it. instead, he averts his eyes to the menu. you know better than to believe that nothing bad will come out tonight. 

for the rest of the night, he engages in small talk with you. about the weather. a new store that’s just opened up. some story about some poor guy who borrowed more money than he could ever give back. the thought makes you tighten your grip on your fork.

when you get back to his penthouse, he’s quick to strip you of your luxurious gown and all of it’s accompanied gold accents. when you reach to take off the necklace that decorates your neck, he stops you. 

“keep it on,” he whispers, his hand crawling up your thigh to grip your ass. “wanna fuck you looking so pretty in my jewelry. wanna make you shine with sweat as pretty as those gems.” 

“oh really?” you retort, sliding your hand between the two of your bodies and cupping his sex. he groans as you run your fingertips down his groin. “wanna make me shine with your cum?” 

“yes,” he gasps. in the heat of the moment, his eyes catches the faint outline of diluc’s mark just below your jaw. overtaken by some primal instinct, he presses your waist against him. “you’re letting all those side-fucks give you hickeys?” 

his words almost make you want to freeze. but you’re quick to resume back to normal, to pretend that those words don’t phase you. that you don’t hear the implications in the undertones of his voice. 

it’s worse if you tell him it was unintentional. 

“it’s a new development.” you tug at his hair as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. “you get only one.”

you need to have the upper hand. in a sea of seven men who are constantly demanding things from you, you have to take what you’re dealt with and do something before they overtake you.

he grins.  “you’re such a tease. which motherfucker left this on you?” 

you know better than to tell him. everyone knows that there’s seven who you’re regularly seeing. but they don’t know the names—not the order. you know better than to give names. these men are as powerful as they are rich, you wouldn’t do anything that’d upset the city’s dynamics. 

so you avoid the question, like you’ve always done. 

“i can think of better ways you can use that mouth, other than asking silly questions.” 

his brow twitches, but he doesn’t do anything else to push you. instead, he smiles into your neck. “only one?”

“only one,” you confirm.

he doesn’t hesitate to take off your necklace. his hands dive to the back of your neck to unclip it and toss it to the side. you let out a yelp in surprise when it clangs onto the coffee table. 

“i’ll buy you a better one,” he says in-between open-mouthed kisses on your jawline. “fuck, i’ll buy you a thousand more.”

he sinks down to your collarbone. “’been dreaming of this. my girl, my pretty, pretty girl, wearing reminders of me.” 

♡

the two of you are in the comfort of kazuha’s home. wednesdays are reserved for writing, and like always, you’re pinned under his watchful gaze while he writes his thoughts away in his notebook. 

with every few scrawls, he peeks over the paper to steal glances at you. you hum, pretending to be blissfully aware. you’re just here as his muse. 

as of this moment, you snuggle into your comfortable place in the back of his study, leaning against the window that expands to his backyard that oversees the sunrise and sunset. your own notebook rests on your thighs, your knees pressed close enough to your chest to allow you to write smoothly. kazuha sits across from you, his feet sometimes brushing against yours. if you laid your legs out straight, no doubt that the balls of your feet would meet his waist. 

he keeps stealing glances at you. has been for the past hour. no matter how much you try to focus on your own poems, you can’t brush away the feeling of being watched. 

his eyes are impeccable, and can spot the marks that occasionally peak underneath your scarf when you move a certain away. 

“you let them mark you?” he asks out of the blue. not accusatorily, per se, but you can detect the edge in his voice. 

the corners of your lips perk unnaturally. the moment you’d been dreading since you woke up had arrived. you let your eyes soften, as if it could soothe kazuha by any means. with a gentle hand, you reach out to softly grasp his hand that tightens around the edge of his notebook. it’s something he accepts readily, enveloping your hand with his. 

“i was meaning to talk to you about this, kazu,” you say tenderly. “it’s just something i’m trying out. everyone gets one. see if everyone’s okay with it.” 

kazuha doesn’t say anything. his gaze is fixated on your intertwined hands. “my love, they mark your skin like animals.”

you smile like it’s no trouble. because that’s what you need him to believe. you feel like kazuha’s a loose thread. tug him in the wrong direction, the wrong idea, and he’ll undo the entire sweater. 

“it’s only going to be seven,” you reply, trying to lessen the tension. 

“it’s better if there’s just one,” he retorts gingerly. “they aren’t gentle at all, are they?”

you don’t like the way his eyes sweep over your entire figure. you hold back a shudder, feeling as if a ghost had just passed through you. 

“they are,” you mumble, although you can hardly say it’s true. “don’t you worry kazu, i can handle myself.” 

your line of sight flits back to your intertwined hands; he lets go, instead running the pads of his fingers down the back of your hands before settling on your wrist. his hold is firm. it’s not tight enough to cause you pain, but not gentle enough to let you pull away. 

“i’m sure you do, love,” he mutters. but the way he says it makes it seem as if he doesn’t believe you.

his eyes connect with yours intently.

the rustle of your clothes shuffling echoes through the quiet study as he pulls your wrist towards his mouth. in doing so, you’re forced to lean forward. his eyes never leave you, not when he presses a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“they just want you for your body,” he says, more to himself than you. “they don’t love you at all. everything would be so much better if you just dropped them. let me take care of it. take care of it all.” 

you don’t say anything back. he doesn’t want you to. and even if you did, it wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. you have bills to pay. you have enemies a wealthy poet wouldn’t be able to defend you from on his own. 

his tongue slides out of his mouth to lick a long strip up your wrist, all while looking at you. he presses open-mouthed kisses in the same spot, sucking and nibbling with purpose. in-between kisses, his tongue draws letters on the expanse of your skin in a sentence you’ve begun to fear.

A L L M I N E  

დ

when spring comes, tighnari will sometimes give you hickeys. he’ll do it in the heat of the moment in a passionate rut. he can’t think of anything else but you. how perfect you are for him. how beautiful. how you belong to him. 

while he drives his cock into you the only way he knows how, his lips will find their place in the crook of your neck. on the curve of your breasts. on the plush of your thighs. he’ll kiss you like you’re his air. 

he’ll whimper into your skin. in that moment, you’re powerless to stop him. his pace is godspeed, pummeling into you like you’re his lifeline. driven to leave his white reminders of his love and devotion into your aching pussy. you can barely hold yourself up steadily. your fingers tremble. overcome with an insurmountable high, you can’t push him away as he leaves hickeys all over your body. 

it’s not to send a message to everyone, per se, but to express the feelings he’d been keeping pent up during autumn, winter, and summer. the overwhelming infatuation and adoration he feels for you. 

his pension for leaving nonstop hickeys on you starts to settle on the fourth day. and by the end of the week-long rut, they’ve faded just enough that you can cover it up with foundation and expensive jewelry. 

but when he’s not blinded by his sexual desperation during the spring, it’s a different story. 

it’s a perfectly fine thursday mid-afternoon in the comfort of tighnari’s study when he sees it. 

he catches a glimpse of kazuha’s kiss on your wrist when you pass a cup of tea to him. your sleeves ride up just a bit under the beaming sun. you notice too, and are quick to pull back. but it’s too late. the moment he’s set down the cup he’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling back the sleeve. “what’s this?” 

you’re tempted to let out a breath of relief that he didn’t notice the hickey that barely rested on the edge of your collar. when you donned on the turtleneck sweater, you feared that he’d notice it if it slipped down and grow even more livid. 

just play it off. pretend. if you’re lucky, by the end of this week, you’ll end up with only six hickeys. 

“oh, i must’ve bumped into something.” 

tighnari scowls. “this doesn’t seem like an ordinary bruise. how’d you get it?” 

you’re scrambling for a believable response. “i was leaning back onto the counter and didn’t realize the corner was there.”

he chuckles. “clumsy you.” his forefinger inches up the slightest bit to press on it. 

you wince. subsequently, your entire body tenses. this isn’t like those times where you can lie sweetly to him whenever he asks for you to stay for good. this isn’t like one of those times you can charm your way out of a situation. the way he looks at you is knowing. feral.

“i wasn’t born yesterday, love,” he hisses. “i know a hickey when i see one, especially when i leave them on you every spring.”

the way he kisses you after is rougher than usual. desperate. needy. aggressive. he presses into you, his tail wagging tentatively. he brings your arms to wrap around his neck. his tongue caresses your own, exploring your mouth like it’s a new discovery. a new treasure trove. 

he whimpers into the kiss, his little squeaks and moans muffled by his need to devour you. 

you close your eyes and let yourself get swept up with the pacing. to get distracted by him. you hardly register the time pass before the two of you are naked, your clothes strewn across the floor in his bedroom. 

your back is pressed against his chest, your ass hugging his dick while he slides his hand down the valley between your breasts, stopping to pinch your nipple until it hardens. his other hand is left to its own devices, settling on your waist. 

his fingers find themselves in the comfort of your pussy. he whimpers at how amazing you feel around his fingertips. how every time he pulls in and out, there’s squelching noises that almost overtake his little whines and yelps. every time he pushes his fingers back in, your ass presses a little closer to his dick. 

he moans like you’re the one pleasuring him. like he’s on the cusp of euphoria, only silencing himself to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. 

“it’s m-my turn,” he says in-between whines. “m-my pretty l-little pet.” 

დ

when alhaitham gets home after a long week of working, all he wants to do is relax in warmth of your embrace. friday is his reward. 

he eats dinner as always, asking you questions in-between bites while delivering long stares that still make you feel like you’re being researched. but this week, instead of insisting you two spend quality time together reading on the couch, he coaxes you into the bedroom. 

he groans into the kiss, pressing you to the wall as he helps you out of your clothes. but when he opens his eyes to admire your body, he doesn’t like what he sees.

he lets out an unamused chuckle. his hand brushes over your shoulder. “what’s this?” 

you try to speak, but he cuts you off with another kiss. when you gasp in surprise, his tongue dives into your mouth. 

he leaves you breathless; his pace is rough, almost angry. 

“what a bad girl you are,” he seethes, “letting all those bastards touch you like that? bruise your pretty, pretty skin?”

he doesn’t let you talk. he envelops your opportunity to reply with his relentless kisses. he presses harder into your mouth, your teeth almost gnashing together. it’s almost painful, as if he wished to bind you two together. 

“every friday is my solace, my holiday, didn’t you know?” 

you gasp for air. “i-” 

“i’m not done yet.” he brings his lips to yours for another hungry kiss. “every week i work so hard so i can see you, cherish you, and this is how you repay me? i thought you were my good girl.” 

he chuckles darkly. “but you’re just a bad apple, aren’t you? i’ll have to fix that.”

he continues to kiss you. to ravish you with his mouth. he swallows your moans, his hands eagerly exploring your body like it’s his first time. and like always, his hands find their place on your chest. 

“i’ve always loved your breasts: the way they curve, the way they sway so sweetly every time you arch your back for me, how your nipples perk up with every caress of mine.” he flicks one and you yelp. 

“those imbeciles really have no intelligence at all.” he licks a long stripe in-between the valley of your breasts. “your body is a canvas.” 

his eyes connect with yours, beckoning your gaze. a silent connection, a guarantee that you’re looking at him. at what he’s doing. at what he’s making you feel.

he stares at you attentively, and once again you feel like you’re being studied. every gasp that comes from your lips. every twitch of your brows. every time your eyelids flutter is under his watchful gaze like it’s the only thing his sight is for. like he’s a scientist researching the cure to his very own hunger. 

his lips find purchase just on the edge of your areola, sucking intently. “to mark you is a form of art.” 

he relishes in the way you shudder. but he needs more. 

with one hand on your waist, his other comes up to fondle your other breast, craving for more reaction.

“only idiots wouldn’t be able to realize it.” 

დ

unlike all of the other saturdays, where you’re probably swept up in the grand scheme of things (attending formal events, meeting politicians, or shopping like ayato’s wallet depended on it), you’re lounging in ayato’s home office on a calm evening. 

the two of you decided to end things a bit earlier today and relax a bit. and by that, you suggested to spend some quality time alone so that you didn’t need to walk anymore. although you prided yourself on stamina and tolerance to soreness, even you couldn’t keep up after just about a week of aggressive men fucking their jealousy into you. 

“it was hot today,” ayato mutters lazily as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. your head rests on the plush of his thigh, just as he likes it. “are you sure that you’re comfortable in that turtleneck, love?”

you curl into yourself a little bit more, tugging the collar up. “yes, i’m perfectly fine.”

you’re not fine. you’ve been sweating up a storm underneath your sweater but you were adamant on ending this week with six hickeys instead of seven. your stubbornness refused you the pleasure of ice-cold showers to wash away how your clothes burned you. 

he pouts. “are you sure? you look awfully uncomfortable, dear. you can take a shower in my bathroom, if you’d like.” he smiles. “i won’t look, promise.”

you turn to look at him, contemplating. on one hand, you don’t believe anything good will come out of undressing in ayato’s house. you don’t believe his promise, either. if you knew him any better, he’d walk into the shower on the grounds of saving water, where he’d see all the hickeys imbued into your skin. while diluc, childe, and kazuha’s marks were getting a little faded, you doubt you could somehow explain alhaitham and tighnari’s hickeys. 

but on the other hand, you’d been in this sweater for a whole day already. and your skin was started to get irritated. you felt gross with all of the sweat you’d accumulated. maybe five minutes wouldn’t hurt. 

you smile like there’s nothing to worry about. like you’re an adoring lover. like you’re whoever ayato wants you to be. you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he warmly receives. 

“okay. i’ll be back soon.”

he chuckles as you get up from his lap to head to the shower. you had to be quick. 

you all but run to the bathroom once you’re out of sight. you head to ayato’s bedroom where some of your clothes are. dresses, lingerie, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, and all other items of clothing he’s ever bought you hang neatly in his closet. you pluck whatever seems practical and make a break for the shower.

you slip off the diamond ring he’d given you months ago. you all but slam it onto the counter, relieved your ring finger can breathe for once. 

the quicker you take, the more likely you can shower without incident. 

but the moment you’ve stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped secure around your torso, to your horror, the door opens. 

“hey, love, i was wondering—”

just before you can close the door shut on him, his eyes connect to the discoloring on your shoulder. 

regardless of his discovery, you move to usher him out. but mid-way, your feet are halted in the middle of the bathroom floor. the words are crawling in your mouth. you want to tell him that you’d like to shower in peace, tell it to him teasingly, but you don’t think you can. 

that’s not what he wants. that’s not what pays the bills. 

you offer a tight-lipped smile. “like what you see?”

he paces towards you, caressing your shoulder. he leans closer to you, examining the color, the shape, the size. “hm, so that’s how they want to play this game,” he whispers, ignoring your question entirely.

his hands gently tug at your towel. he smiles. “won’t you open up for me, love?”

he guides your hands as you drop the towel, revealing alhaitham’s mark. 

“hm.” he looks at you as if he’s silently critiquing an art piece. “i see what’s going on here.” 

he takes the ring that you left behind on the counter and works to slide it slowly onto your finger again. “you almost forgot to wear the symbol of our love, dear.” 

“oh, it must’ve slipped my mind.” it’s like there’s cotton in your mouth. your throat feels dry.

he chuckles at that. “poor thing. my poor lover can be so forgetful.” 

 his eyes drift down to your chest.

he presses a kiss above your breasts, where your heart is.

“she almost forgets that she’s mine.” 

დ

even if he’s your designated sunday, if you aren’t careful enough, kaeya will create a week full of trouble for you. 

when he eats you out, he becomes pussy-drunk. he kisses your lower lips like it’s his prize. his reward for working so hard this week. his tongue runs up your pussy to your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke. 

when he reaches your clit, he lets his mouth mold over your nub. he licks at it gently, cherishing it like it’s his only rose on a lonely valentine’s day. 

he makes love to you like he’s reached his happily ever after. his lewd slurping overshadows the shuffling of the sheets, your moans. when he dips his tongue into your cunt, he whimpers. 

his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place. even when you’re overstimulated, begging for a break, he won’t let you go. he savors the way you tremble so cutely under his touch. how your cum leaks out of you in small streams after your fifth release. he’s immersed in your cunt, yearns to make out with your lower lips while his nose nudges at your clit.

it’s too much. the feeling of your climax is so overwhelming. 

he wants you to feel this euphoria, to remind you of how he feels every time he looks at you. 

he wants you so much. so fucking much it hurts him when he can’t see you. when he can’t hold you. when he can’t be with you like a real lover. he needs you like he needs air. he needs to feel you wrapped around him to give him life. to give him purpose. 

that’s why when you’re so swept up in the feeling of a constant climax, when your legs feel numb, he gets so carried away. 

if you don’t catch him in time, kaeya will leave secretive hickeys along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your folds. he needs the others to know he’s staking his claim.

to know he’s making you feel so good that there’s definitive proof. 

at the end of the week, when you see him again after seven days of trying to calm down the jealous storm among your seven sugar daddies, he’ll grin. 

it’s that same devious smirk he gives you at candlelight dinners, except it isn’t one to mask his vulnerabilities with charisma and one-liners. it’s one to tell you that he knows exactly what he’s done. 

he knows what he wants, and he’s finally had enough of the fucking waiting.