#I wrote this all half asleep last night

[mer-se]

I loveeeee having pets but the trauma that comes with having them that is inevitable . fuckin blows

[tetzoro]

in the mist of a new morning, march pokes her head through the thawing ground and greets all those who are longing for spring with just the warmth of a smile. she says the new season is just around the corner and infinite amounts of magic awaits. there is so much hope swirling around her, it almost feels infectious …³³³

happy march friendz, the last two months may have been a lot for some, but we are slowly working towards better days !! here’s to having a great month ଘ(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ❤︎

[johnslittlespoon]

Question because I loveeeee talking about how sex and sexy scenes can sometimes just not work because hello, this is real life!

“but gale gets good at rephrasing it in a way that they're both comfortable with, after some trial and error.”

Re. said trial and error: do u think they’ve ever been in a situation where Gale translates Bucky’s desire to be put in his place as him wanting Gale to be mean to him/ put him down. Because I’m just like. Imagine if this did happen in a situation where Bucky was being punished/ is over Gale’s knee. And at the start Bucky is obviously into it so Gale kind of thinks of that as maybe he should amp it up a little and he starts being a little cruel with his words. And maybeeee Bucky whimpers in response but it’s too similar to his other noises for Gale to realize he isn’t liking this and he’s getting in his head. AND then. Because Bucky is a decent way through his punishment, his desire to be good for Gale has really peaked so he doesn’t wanna say anything and he just tries to take the words and really be good but the harsh words in combination with the fact that Gale is a strong man and he’s been spanking for a while now and it’s starting to be a little uncomfy and just. Too much for Bucky. I can see him being able to take a bit of uncomfortable squirmy type pain IF Gale is sweetly talking him through it. But the harsh words and the pain is way too much for him. And eventually Gale notices and they just stop the scene and Gale just comforts and loves on him <3

referenced post | hellooo yes i can elaborate! i also love talking about how sex can not work out; i feel like it adds so much to a pairing’s dynamic when everything’s not cookie–cutter perfect, and like you said, in real life it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. 1.5k words of nsfw drabble below the cut (ik. so much for short replies sigh) <3

i can for sure see things getting lost in translation, or just miscommunications happening, or trying things they think they might like but then finding out they don’t like it, etc. but i think with ‘canonic’ characterization, in the context of gale actually being mean/putting john down, this probably isn’t something that would happen, because i think even if john genuinely did want that, it’s something gale wouldn’t be comfortable with. i feel like he’d maybe be fine with being mean in a teasing way, ie: light degrading, light humiliation, that sort of thing, but anything actually ‘unkind’ even if it’s all part of a scene, i’m not sure it would fly with him, or at least the way i view/write his character!

but for the sake of fun brainrot? absoluuutely lol. >:) and as an aside in this scenario, i could even see john himself thinking he’s wanting gale to be mean to him, not understanding that the actual desire is him wanting to be put in his place and roughed up, and not realizing his miscalculation until it’s (in his mind) too late. + the outcome of all this is likely some level of subdrop, but they’re two dudes in the 40s, they wouldn’t have that vocabulary lol, so it really does all circle back to trial and error and figuring out what the other really needs. :-)

i can see this starting out with john spending a day really acting up to ensure he gets under gale’s skin good, because as outwardly confident and content to run his mouth as he is, sometimes he doesn’t feel like asking for what he needs, maybe even feels a little bit embarrassed having to say it out loud. that, and there’s more of a thrill when gale just does it on his own, because it gives john the genuine feeling of having control taken from him. 

by the end of the day, gale’s at the end of his rope. he gets john alone finally and tangles a hand in his hair and gives it a harsh tug as he asks “what the hell’s gotten into you today?” and he can tell exactly what type of mood john’s in just by the way his jaw goes slack and how he looks a little winded at the show of force. so gale pushes him down to his knees, grabs his jaw with a firm hand, says “y’want me to be mean?” and john’s already a bit flushed, nods dazedly, and gale tightens his grip and goes “really, now?” and john nods again, whines a little, and well, alright. who’s he to deny him?

and maybe john even pushes a tiny bit more so gale has a reason to let himself be a little more cruel; maybe gale sits on the couch and tells john “over my knee.” and john just stays kneeling with droopy eyes and a lopsided smile, knowing damn well he’s playing with fire, and gale has to stand back up and drag him over by the back of his neck and drape him over his lap himself. john’s thrilled, obviously, already dizzy at being manhandled like that, but gale’s even more ticked off.

so john gets bent over gale’s lap and is made to count each hit as gale gives him a generally disapproving verbal lashing, y’know classic “i thought you like being good for me john, what happened? you think you were good today?” to make john squirm, to get him flustered a little having to focus on counting and answering questions. gale can feel that john’s hard and leaking against his thigh, and he’s making the prettiest, desperate little noises in between the words he manages to choke out, and right about now’s where he probably strays out of character.

they’re both so caught up in the scene, and john sounds so worked up that gale knows he’s giving him what he needs, so he lets his tongue get a little more sharp. maybe morphs into the territory of “can’t use your head right, huh? just can’t learn to listen for once?”, “don’t know why i keep trying to teach you to be good when you seem to enjoy disappointing me,” “shouldn’t even be touching you right now, you don’t deserve the attention.”

and all the while, john’s hips are wriggling, and he’s gasping out small noises, but he’s long since stopped counting and his head’s feeling fuzzy in a not–good way, and whereas gentle words between teasing would usually ease the sting on his ass, there’s no reassurance to cushion the ache of each hit this time. but he’s still all worked up and floaty and all his brain can comprehend is that gale’s unhappy with him, disappointed, fed up, and none of it in a fun way, so he wants to fix that, and the most obvious way to him with the state he’s in is to make gale proud by sitting through his punishment.

john tries to continue being responsive, to attempt to answer gale’s questions, to apologize at the right times, to just push on through because he’s sure gale’s close to done and then they’ll both get to make each other feel good. but he feels stupid and bad and he kinda just wants to curl in on himself, and a small part of him is telling him gale doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying, but the rest of him is taking the words to heart. his eyes are stinging and suddenly he’s blinking away tears and whimpering out a string of “sorrysorrysorryi’msorry” and then gravity’s shifting as gale abruptly pulls him up and into his lap, warm hands cupping his face.

soft, frantic murmurs of “hey, heyheyhey, what’s wrong, baby?” as wide eyes search john’s flushed face, thumbs gently stroking over tear streaked cheeks, but john’s in no state to speak or explain where his head’s gone. it’s alright though; it doesn’t take more than a few seconds for gale to clue in, and then he feels awful, but he’s immediately focused on calming john down. pulls him in close and tucks john’s face against his neck, murmurs “oh, sweet thing, i’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?” as he rubs john’s back, kissing the top of his head. assures him over and over that he’s not actually mad, that he is so good for him, a good listener, could never disappoint him, etc.

just keeps quietly talking and petting his hair and squeezing him tight until he can feel the tension slowly leave john’s body as he relaxes into his lap. and john feels stupid as he calms down, feels like he’s made a big deal out of nothing, like it shouldn’t have affected him so much, and then he gets in his head about that, but gale can hear the hamster wheel in his head going and murmurs all fondly, “i can hear you thinking, john. you stop that right now.” and it gets a wet laugh out of john, a sniff.

gale asks if it’s alright to move to their bed, and john nods, so they get cozy there instead, and john feels ashamed for (in his mind) ruining their evening, and gale feels terrible for making john feel bad about himself for even a second, kicking himself for not realizing things were off sooner. so there ends up being a bit of a joint need for reassurance, gale making absolutely certain john understands he doesn’t actually think any of the things he’d said, and john making sure gale knows he has no reason to feel bad, and that he forgives him (though john doesn’t like that gale's apologizing at all). 

it turns into an evening of aftercare via cuddles and words of affirmation and gentle touches, maybe leads into sweet and soft kisses and lazy grinding and feeling each other up until they get off like that, limbs all tangled up, lovesick pet names and praise from both of them. i think this specific incident would shake gale up so much that– if there wasn’t one already that john had just been reluctant to use during the scene, in which case a serious conversation would need to be had between them– he’d ensure they establish a safe word, and on top of that probably stick to softer things for a bit, both of them emotionally tender.

and in terms of trial and error, they’d learn gale’s comfort limit with being harsher, because even if john had enjoyed all of it, gale thinks that he might’ve still felt a bit guilty afterwards, finding more enjoyment in putting john in his place with light scolding or teasing to accompany whatever the physical punishment is. and they’d learn john’s comfort limit with being verbally punished, because while he most definitely gets off on gale being mean/rough, he gets in his head about things really easily, especially if the words touch on sore spots (that he may or may not even be aware of). 

but they never shy away from trying new things together; it’s all part of the process and even if it’s sucky sometimes to deal with things not turning out the way they anticipate, it teaches them better communication and brings them closer and they always bounce back in the end. <3

[everymanpdf]

save me post-8pm 200mgs of caffeine.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

How would Alpha!Kreese react to getting Omega!Daniel pregnant? Maybe they have a shitty relationship, or are just fucking, but would Kreese step up and claim Daniel as his mate? I find it hard to believe he would just abandon him. He'd still probably be a real shitty Alpha to him, until he realizes that hey! He actually really likes the Omega for some reason. Would Kreese be excited at having a possible future Alpha?

Maybe Daniel threatens to leave him, pup or not and that brings Kreese to his senses.

Ooh. If it was not a healthy relationship then Daniel wouldn't even entertain the idea of being with Kreese long term.

But maybe Daniel has always wanted kids, and hey. He's looking at this as a gift. Regardless of if he has a reliable alpha.

I think Daniel tells Kreese, more or less to be polite.

"hey. You've got a theoretical kid."

Maybe they're in those stages between strange self destructive fuck buddies and regular fuck buddies? They've started to realize that there are things they genuinely enjoy about each other that they never expected.

But Kreese, even if he doesn't think he cares about Daniel, won't be having a bastard child. He would want any child to be wanted. And Kreese wasn't expecting it. Is shocked. He doesn't know if he can or should do this. But Daniel wants it. And Kreese would be lying if he said it didn't appeal to him.

Maybe, he thinks, they could work out some co-parenting situation?

He would still have a crisis over Daniel being unclaimed though.

I tend to view Kreese as wanting to put a ring on it, but if we come at this from an even less stable position, maybe he would be happy to just have a part in the child's life.

I wonder if Daniel would want his child to know about their other father? I feel like he would feel it was only fair. But also that he would want to protect them from his own complicated past.

I think that Kreese would definitely prefer an alpha child but he would also be okay with having a beta child. It's not that he wouldn't love an omega child, but it would be a large shift to his world view.

Kreese can see that Daniel has the potential to be a good omega mate. Daniel is just stubborn and hard headed. Kreese never expected this, but he's sure he can morph Daniel into a better omega.

Imagine Kreese determined to train Daniel into a proper omega.

There's also the possibility that we could go full angst and Kreese would force a bonding upon Daniel before Daniel was ready. 👀👀

Daniel would be heart broken. But maybe Kreese would make it his mission to woo Daniel's inner omega?

After he claimed him of course.

Daniel would be so upset. He would be furious. Because now he's linked to Kreese in a way he never meant to be and Kreese didn't even ask! The thought of being a stay at home omega popping out kids for John makes him panic.

Daniel isnt even actually fighting him, he's just crying and slapping at him hysterically. John has to hold him to the bed to get him to calm down.

Maybe John really does try in his own way? It's just that his way and Daniel's way don't mesh as well as he had hoped.

Eventually they figure some sort of mostly happy and healthy relationship out, but the first few years are tough.

(I'm thinking possible manipulation tactics like love bombing and limiting Daniel's social circle, etc.)

Tldr: uno reverse card. Omega Daniel who wants to single dad it and Kreese who won't let Daniel go. 👀

[felixbit]

up all night

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader w. 3.9k genre: shameless smut summary: chan is in the studio working late, stressed about a deadline and pushed to his limit. you convince him to take his mind off work. warnings: reader has somewhat implied afab anatomy but no gendered terms/pronouns are used. petnames used: baby, love, honey a/n: making my smut debut with chan! written for the best person ever

As of late, Chan has been in the studio far more often than you'd like.

You knew he was a workaholic when you got into the relationship. He cared about his career, music, and group so much he'd push himself to the brink. He wrote, composed, and produced all of his own music and wouldn't have it any other way. If he wanted success, he needed to make it himself.

It came at a cost, though. You saw the way his mental health would deteriorate around the time of deadlines. He'd spend almost entire days in the studio, perfecting every last word and beat. You watched as he shaped this music from his hands, sculpting them to smooth out every edge and imperfection.

Even Chan was far too aware how bad it was for himself. You'd try to find ways for him to take breaks, always bringing him food and water to keep him going. He'd thank you in a million ways, with words and fond touches but it ended in him going back to work.

When he finally was home, he returned to the kind and gentle boyfriend you knew him to be. Holding you as you fell asleep and buying your order at the local coffee shop before you woke up. He'd make you breakfast in bed when he had the time, writing love notes whenever he had to leave before you woke up.

As it always happened, a new deadline was approaching. Chan often slipped out after schedules to the studio and worked himself down to the bone. You tried your hardest to spend as much time in there with him, even if it was just laying on the couch scrolling your feed. Every little thing helped.

That night, you'd ordered him some takeout but it was eaten long ago. The time on your phone showed it was half past three in the morning and Chan was at it in earnest. Headphones on, replaying samples and tweaking sounds.

You looked over from your phone when you heard him swear under his breath and take his headphones off. Chan let out a long sigh and covered his face with his hands for a moment before looking back down at his work.

"It- it just won't sound like I need it to. It's not right, it's.." Chan rambled into the air.

You got up from the couch and walked behind his chair, putting your hands on his broad shoulders and massaging them with your fingers. "I know, Channie. Is there anything I can do to help you right now?"

"No, I'm sorry," Chan let out a long sigh and smiled up at you weakly, "You being here is enough."

You felt a stirring in your stomach at the sentiment, but you wouldn't give up that easily. "I can't just let you suffer alone here. Do you want to take a break or wrap up for the night?"

"I won't remember how I want it tomorrow. If I give up on this now, there's a chance I never fix it and it goes out sounding wrong. I can't do that."

"Chris," You stopped massaging his shoulders to turn his chair around, looking down at him, "I know you want it perfect. Write it down on a sticky note what you want and take a break. It's gonna be four soon and I'm not letting you spend another all nighter here."

Chan looked up at you curiously before deflating back in his chair. "I mean- are you sure? If I forget, it's gonna be noticeable, and-"

"I'll remind you. I'll put it in my phone and tell you exactly what you need to fix. Here, tell me what it is and I'll write it down. Got it?"

Chan paused for a moment before nodding, allowing you to open your phone before speaking. He gave you the exact timestamps of the song and the strange producer jargon that you couldn't quite make sense of. You wrote it down word-for-word just as he needed it.

"There, it's in here for you later," You recited it back to him and he gave a confirmatory nod, "You're all set for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I can't be done for the night, there's too much to work on and not enough time. I'm sorry, just another hour. Please?"

You shook your head and set your phone down on the table before sliding into his lap, straddling him in the chair. "You're not working another second on those songs tonight, Chris."

Chan looked up at you a little stunned before a sly smirk crossed his face. "Baby, you know that's not fair to me. I need to work and you're doing something dangerously distracting."

"What are you going to do, then?" You replied back, unable to hold back a grin, "You gonna remove me from your lap to do some boring work instead?"

You could see Chan chew on the inside of his cheek before sighing. "It's not boring, and I really should get back to it.."

"Then you're going to have to remove me yourself, because I'm not moving."

Chan let out a dramatic sigh before his hands moved up the outside of your thighs, resting right next to your hips. "You know damn well I'm not going to do that."

"And why's that, Channie?"

His hands moved over your thighs, giving a light squeeze. "God, you're driving me insane. Coming into the studio every night and making yourself useful at every opportunity.. I wanted so bad to stop just to make you feel good. You deserve that, instead of me working the whole day."

"Your opportunity has finally come, I'm all yours if you want me right now."

Chan chuckled, "You could ask me that a thousand times and I could never say no."

You leaned in to his ear and whispered, "Then make your move."

There was a moment of silence before Chan pulled you in for a kiss, messy and rushed. His hands were all over your thighs, waist, back. He couldn't pick a spot and stick to it, deciding instead everywhere needed to be felt over.

You tried to keep things centered, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. One of your hands played with the curls growing on the back of his head, enjoying the soft feeling through your fingers. It was the only thing keeping you sane.

His hands finally found a place to reside when he hooked them on the hem of your pants, giving light tugs as you felt him squirming under you. Pulling away from the kiss with a grin, you looked down at Chan and his flushed appearance. "So eager.."

"Can you blame me? Now stand up and help me get those off," Chan demanded with a rushed voice, helping get you to your feet as he followed in your footsteps. His usually deft hands were fumbling as he desperately pulled your pants off of you and discarded them to the floor.

Watching him undo his own sweatpants like a madman had you giggling at the sight. "You go one week without any action, and this is how desperate you get?"

"I'm a starved man, honey," Chan's face was red and already had sweat on his brow, "I can't wait any longer, not after all that teasing."

"Teasing? What-"

"Get on the damn couch."

That much was enough to have you laying down on the couch without hesitating. His sweatpants joined yours on the floor, showing off the black boxers he was sporting underneath. A quick glance showed he was pitching an obvious tent.

Although as quick as you were, Chan caught you looking. He raised his brows and laughed, "And I'm the eager one here?"

"You are the eager one here, hardly put your hands on me and you're giving those boxers a run for their money," You responded with your own laugh.

"You little.." Chan shook his head and leaned over you, putting his weight on one forearm on the couch as he kissed you once more. Instead of the fast and desperate pace he had set before, Chan was far slower and delicate. It was almost infuriatingly slow.

You couldn't show how much you wanted him to go faster, that would only prove his point. Instead, he was slowly breaking you down by the second, one arm stabilizing himself and the other hand on your neck, softly stroking your jaw with his thumb.

The waiting game paid off when Chan suddenly took your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a small tug before he pulled away. "I can't keep this up. You win. Damn you, I'm eager."

There wasn't time for any words to respond before Chan was back where he was before, sloppy and fast. He kissed down your neck, excessive in his biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. Not expecting it, a sound broke its way out of you.

You did your best not to give in to the rest of his harsh and aggressive kisses down your neck. After a week of downtime, he was making up for it in marking your neck as his own. Nobody was going to know who the perpetrator of the hickeys were later (other than the upset staff), but it was the idea that mattered.

There were bigger problems actively stealing your attention. Namely, the small amount of friction made with him moving ever-so-slightly between your legs. It was easy to ignore at first, but the neck kisses were causing the pleasure parts of your brain to kick into high gear.

With one harsher movement than the rest, you were unable to bite back a small, unfiltered sound that escaped you. Chan broke contact with your red and bruising skin to look up with a grin on his face.

"What was that, love?" Chan's tone was starkly different than before, far more teasing and with a dark edge to his voice that you only recognized coming out in bed.

Attempts to take his attention off of it failed and you were forced to fess up in the moment. "You have to stop moving like that, it's driving me crazy."

"Moving like what?" Chan shifted his legs, slotting his thigh directly between yours and pressing firmly against you. This elicited a frustrated sigh, the feeling too strong to push away.

Upon no immediate response, Chan pushed his thigh forward and forced a fuller, more in-tact moan out of you. "Fine, fine- that. Putting your thigh between my legs. That's the thing that's driving me crazy."

"There you go," Chan's words were sickly doting in a way that made you break at the seams, "What do you want instead?"

With his thigh slotted firmly between your own, finding coherent strings of words was difficult. "Just.. get this underwear off me and use your fingers instead."

Chan smiled, clearly pleased with your answer. He moved his leg out from between yours, relieving the pressure and allowing you to breathe. He sat back on his legs as he removed the last layer of clothing from below your waist, tossing it to the growing pile on the floor.

He nudged himself closer, Chan's hand finding its way to where his thigh was once situated before. His middle finger teased you with a circular motion around your entrance, so close to where you needed it most.

"Chan." You demanded, shooting him a glare.

"Okay, okay. Just admiring how worked up I've got you," Chan smirked before his finger pushed inside, slowly filling you up and drawing out a long sigh. He worked slowly yet decisively, knowing exactly how you like it.

That was one of the things you loved about Chan: he knew your body like the back of his hand. Where you were most sensitive, what drove you wild, how rough you liked him to get. He could push your buttons perfectly, string you up in his words until you were tied up into a nice present for him.

Before you could process the first, Chan had already added a second finger and was growing more confident. He worked his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, not slow enough to leave you wanting more nor fast enough to want to slow down.

"That good, baby?" Chan's eyes met yours, and you saw a different side of him for a moment. The way he sought your approval and made sure everything was right had your heart melting. He had confidence in his abilities, but occasionally needed reassurance.

You nodded eagerly, on the cusp of desperation. "It's good, Channie, you're doing so good," You said between soft moans as his fingers pumped deep, feeling him tease a third and giving him a nod.

The third was always a stretch that had you biting back whines in conjunction to moans, but the feeling was too good to beat. The feeling of being full, on his fingers or otherwise, was what drove you wild.

He kissed you once more, slow and tender as his fingers continued to work. It was hard to keep properly connected, devolving into moaning against his lips with small kisses in between.

"Chris," You said, "Can't wait any longer. Need to have you inside, baby."

Instead of his usual entourage of teasing questions, Chan nodded. He made quick work of his boxers, tossing them haphazardly towards the pile as he moved back to you. He was painfully hard, already leaky and worked up.

"Can I?" He looked down for your reassurance, which came with a nod as he lined himself up. His hips moved forward slowly, feeling him filling you up more by the second. It always took a second to adjust to the size, catching your breath as he bottomed out and waited for your signal.

When you gave him the go-ahead, Chan couldn't help but begin a slow and steady pace. He knew better than to go fast right off the bat- he was a lot to handle. But you could hear him whining softly over top of you and knew he was desperate.

Looking up at him, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a quick kiss. "You can go faster, Chris. You won't hurt me."

You heard Chan let out a breathy laugh before his thrusts grew harsher. Instead of the slow, fluid motion of before; he was faster, precise. Every movement had purpose, each angled just right and hitting the sweet spot.

The sudden adjustment had you whining and letting out louder moans, unable to properly cope. It was overwhelming how good he was at it. All you could do was wrap your hands around the back of his shirt and claw at it helplessly as he had his way.

The fabric getting in the way of your fingers on his skin was beginning to frustrate you. "Off," You managed to get out, "Shirt- off."

Chan grinned, sitting up for a moment and slowing down to a snail's pace to pull his black t-shirt over his head and discard it. You reached up, dragging a hand down his chest and over his abs. Every muscle was yours to touch, to claim.

"You like what you see?" Chan said with a laugh.

Deadpanning, you shook your head. "Shut up."

In a second, he was back over top of you and his pace was back with a new force he didn't have before. It was often he was without clothes, but you weren't under the impression a shirt would be the thing holding him back. Either way, you relished in the fact his back was open to you.

Your nails dug in to his tanned skin, dragging along as he fucked into you steadily. You could hear him sucking air in between his teeth followed by his soft moans. He was always one to endure a little pain.

An idea popped into your head when you thought of before, sitting in the chair in his lap. "Chris, stop for a sec." He immediately halted all movements, looking down at you to make sure everything was alright. "Sit normally, facing the booth."

Chan looked at you perplexed for a moment, but pulled away. He did exactly as you told him to, sitting with his legs spread facing the booth he was just sitting in front of not twenty minutes ago. "What are you planning?" He asked.

You sat up and climbed over to him, straddling his waist with your legs and feeling him hard underneath you. "What I wanted to do to you when I was in your lap earlier."

The realization slowly filled his eyes and a knowing smile returned to his face as he sat back, leaning against the black couch cushion behind him. "Go right ahead."

"If you make me do all the work, we're going to have problems," You glared at him as your hand guided his cock, slowly sinking down on it with a sigh.

Chan's large hands wrapped around your waist, slowly guiding you as you moved up and down. Riding wasn't always the easiest job, and it definitely took some getting used to at the start. Your thighs were slowly building up muscle from the practice.

"God, you're so pretty like that," Chan's voice pulled you from your thoughts, looking down at him to see him smiling up at you. His face was pink and he almost had stars in his eyes.

Seeing just how infatuated he was made your heart race and your face flush, almost forgetting to continue to move. "You're pretty, too."

Your hands were situated on his shoulders to keep steady, but one dragged down and you couldn't resist feeling up his chest a bit. Chan looked up at you smirking again. "Do you ever keep your hands off those?"

Snickering, you pushed down a little harder to see him whine and catch his breath before you responded, "If you're going to keep your clothes off all the time, I'm going to feel up the assets you work so hard on."

"Why do you insist on teasing me all the time? You know what happens when you do that," Chan had a dark look in his eyes that you knew far too well.

Shrugging, you moved your hand up to run through his hair. "Did you ever consider I might like what happens when I tease you?"

"So be it."

Without hesitation, you felt Chan's grip around your waist suddenly tighten. You leaned forward instinctively, both of your hands secured around his shoulders.

He began to thrust up into erratically, fast and without caution or precision. The sound of your skin connecting was obscene, thanking the amount of soundproofing around you as a chorus of moans spilled out of you. Every movement had him deep inside you as you attempted to roll your hips along with him.

"Fuck, Chris," You whined, his pace unrelenting and seeming like he wasn't going to let up any time soon, "Close."

There was a distinctive feeling growing, one you knew too well. The amount of pleasure from every movement was rapidly growing as your body was being overwhelmed. Chan heard you, but didn't stop for a moment. It was almost if it was a sign for him to fuck you faster.

Either way, you were tipping over the edge before you had time to process it, spasming around him as you let you a whorish moan. He slowed down, letting you ride out the high. "That's it, baby," He coaxed, "You got it."

Just as you settled down, you felt him start to work himself into a moderate pace again. Your legs felt shot from your energy levels dipping so you asked, "Do you want to me to move, baby? I don't think I have much in me to keep going right here."

"If it's not comfortable to be right there, of course we can move," Chan said with a smile as he allowed you to reposition to pretty much the same spot you were in before. You laid on your back, Chan coming back over top of you. "That better?"

"Much better," You said with a nod as he went back to the pace he had set before. It wasn't as rough as before your orgasm, but steady enough to keep you whining and your brain somewhat fogged up from the constant pleasure.

Meanwhile, you could see Chan was already getting worked up. His face was redder than usual, his eyes trained on one spot, breathing hard as he kept the effort going to thrust his hips in one continuous pace.

His deep groans and whines had begun to turn into full-fledged moans and swears under his breath. His hands eagerly gripped and kneaded at your waist, seeming like he might accidentally bruise the skin. You were about to open your mouth when he said something.

"Honey, I-" Chan was cut off by his own faltered moan, "I'm close, so fucking close."

You pulled him down to kiss him briefly, keeping his face inches from yours as he continued to erratically thrust. "You don't have to wait, cum for me."

Chan nodded vigorously, his hips snapping back and forth at a speed that had you holding onto the couch for dear life, hearing him let out strained moans and teary-eyed cries as he climbed closer and closer to the top.

All of the sudden, he pushed deep inside you, letting out a gasp and a whine as you felt him come deep inside. His hips stuttered as he slowly rocked them, riding out the high. "Oh my god, that.. that was amazing."

Allowing him a moment to catch his breath, you smiled up at him and gave him another quick kiss. "I've missed you, Chris. I've missed this," You admitted after another silent pause.

Chan nodded, pressing his forehead against yours and sighed. He had finally mellowed out, still buried deep. "I've missed you, too. I'm sorry I haven't been able to do this with you and.. be a good boyfriend."

"No, you're okay. I know how much work matters to you and getting things right means that you see that success you've always wanted. I just always miss you in the times you're working, even if I'm in the same room as you."

"I just feel bad when you're here til way too late at night. Speaking of, what time is it?" Chan slowly pulled out, leaving his mess inside you as he quickly grabbed his phone from the floor, "Oh my god. It's half past four."

Your jaw dropped, standing up quickly as Chan hurried around the room to find something to help you clean up. He settled for his own black t-shirt, telling you he'd just go home shirtless if he had to. Of course it looked terribly stained when you had wiped yourself down, sighing while knowing it probably cost a crazy amount.

Digging through a closet, you found one of Chan's old jacket. Chan was standing shirtless and pacing with the rest of his own clothes on, the defiled shirt balled up in his hand.

"Channie, guess what I found?" You asked with a grin, hiding the jacket behind your back.

Chan looked at you with a nervous smile. "Is it something good? I'm just not super stoked to walk home shirtless at four in the morning.."

You tossed the jacket to him, Chan opting to drop the shirt in his hand before he caught it to not get the filth on it. He happily slid it over his shoulders and zipped it up all the way, picking up the soiled shirt once more.

"Shall we go?" Chan said as he double-checked his pockets and walked towards the studio door.

"We shall."

[justagalwhowrites]

Just to be Sure

Your husband Joel is desperate to get you pregnant again.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Breeding kink smut. Joel really really REALLY wants to knock you up. Lots of pregnancy talk. Reader has given birth before and is at the age where she can give birth again so choose your own adventure for age gap but I picture them about the same age with Joel late 30s. Husband!Joel. No outbreak AU. Creampie. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 1k

A/N: Forgive me for this. I am completely baked and couldn’t shake the thought of Joel having an insane breeding kink. I think if there was no outbreak and Joel found a woman, he’d be DESPERATE to knock her up over and over. He is all about his family, wants so many kids to look after, he’s always begging her for just one more. This is that Joel. He’s filthy. I love him. Also I wrote this in an hour and a half while on an edible and barely proofread it fuck if we ball also sorry I wrote it half on my phone in bed OK BYE LOVE YOU!

“Fuck, Joel…”

Your voice trailed off, weak and breathless, your hands grasping uselessly at the sheets around you.

You weren’t sure how long he’d had you here like this, sweating and fucked out as your husband slowly worked his cock in and out of you. You just knew you had to be quiet, that your one year old was asleep just a room away, a feat that was damn near impossible as Joel pulled yet another orgasm out of you.

“What, baby?” He panted over you, one hand gripping the headboard as he buried himself inside you yet again.

“You…” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus. “You don’t have to get me pregnant to..to…tonight, you know…”

“Oh I know,” he said, his voice heavy with need and scratchy with exertion. “Wouldn’t mind tryin’ with you for a few months, fucking this pretty pussy full of me every damn night, comin’ so deep in you that you’ve got part of me in you all day every day.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, you couldn’t help it, your pussy drawing tight and hot around him.

“But, see, I’m not sure I can wait that long,” he said, pressing somehow deeper into you and holding himself there for a moment, making your cunt clench around him, your legs scrambling for purchase as your next orgasm built higher and higher. “Need to put another baby in you now, need to see your belly grow, need to fuck you until you’ve got part of me in you for damn near a year.”

“Oh fuck!”

You moaned it louder than you should have, Joel’s large hand going from propping him up to clamped over your mouth as your orgasm took you, the heat of it shooting out from your core and through your entire being, your heart racing, channel throbbing.

“Oh goddamn,” he groaned, fucking into you even harder now. “That’s right little mama, pull another baby out me, that’s it…”

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you panted over and over again into his hand, mind reduced to nothing but your husband and how damn full he made you feel, especially with his bare cock buried deep inside of you.

It had been a year almost to the day that you’d last fucked without a condom. You’d been right at the end of your pregnancy, desperate for Joel and desperate for something - anything - to kick start your labor. The last time you hadn’t needed a condom, your contractions started 20 minutes after it ended.

Ever since, you’d been taking precautions. Not because you didn’t want another baby - you definitely did - but because you hadn’t gotten the OK from your doctor yet.

Today, that had changed. You’d gone to your check up and your doctor gave you a clean bill of health, including the OK to start trying to get pregnant again.

You’d figured Joel would want to get started trying that night. You just hadn’t counted on him pulling endless orgasms as a part of trying.

“Think you got one more in you, baby?” He asked, freeing your mouth to run his hand over your hair. You just whimpered. “M’close, wanna come with you. Come on, you can give me one more, know you can.”

You couldn’t find the words as he moved to suck your neck, so you just moaned and nodded and clawed his body closer and tighter to yours.

You could feel him smile against you then, the pace of his pounding cock picking up, the tip of him hitting the spot inside you he’d long ago claimed as his own perfectly with each stroke.

“Come on little mama,” he panted. “Takes better if you come with me, need you to fucking come baby, need to feel you fucking come when I make you pregnant.”

You weren’t sure Joel was fully aware of what he was saying but then, you felt like you were moving of your own accord, too, your hips rolling up against his, frantically pawing at him in a desperate attempt to pull him so close that it was like his whole being was inside you.

This orgasm claimed you quickly, going from starting to build to taking over you in a matter of seconds. You barely had a chance to warn Joel before it hit you.

"I'm gonna come," you managed just half a second before your channel started to fluffer around him. "Fuck, I'm coming! I'm coming!"

"Fuck, that's it," he said fucking into you with two more deep, devastating strokes before you could feel his cock throbbing heavily inside, the warm spread of his spend in your most intimate place drawing your orgasm out. "That's it, fuck, come while I put my baby in you."

His cock gave one final, heavy pulse before he collapsed on you, panting for breath as you went limp below him. Even as he lay there, damn near exhausted, he still managed to fuck his cock into you a few more times, driving his come even deeper.

When he was satisfied, he sat up from you and watched between your legs as he slowly, gently pulled his softening length from your aching, swollen sex.

“So damn pretty like this,” he said almost reverently. You felt the comforting warmth of his come drip out of you and then Joel’s finger was there, scooping it up and gently pushing it back inside your spent hole as it struggled to close after being opened by his thick cock for so long. “Gotta keep me deep inside her baby, s’where I belong.”

You just whimpered a little, still not positive you could form words as Joel lay beside you, his hand skimming slowly over your stomach down to the place that had grown your first daughter with Joel.

“Think our baby’s in there?” He asked softly, thumb brushing your skin in a gentle rhythm.

“I hope so,” you smiled at him.

“Don’t sound like you’re sure,” he smirked a little back. “Might just need to leave more of me in you, just to be sure.”

Your smile grew as his hand slipped lower.

“Just to be sure.”

[ggirlthatgotaway]

You Now Smelled of Flowers, and He Loathed how Perfectly it Suited You

summary: You had always known that, despite being wed, you and Aemond would have never gotten along, especially because none of you tried anything but staying as far as you could from one another. Weirdly enough, Aemond made your relationship changed by asking for help.

trigger warning: wrote this while on ovulation, explicit language, mention of self harm, mention of lost of virginity, sexual content, name calling(wife), pretty chill sex tbh

word count: 9.4k

supposed reading time: 38 minutes

note: BITCH THIS HAS A FUCKING VIBE. anyway, i love the dialogues in this. also, thnkx for more than 200 notes on the last one ARE YOU KIDDING. love ya

-💎

He couldn’t sleep, which was far from anything new, really. He took a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling. He could hear the soft rain falling on the stone walls outside his room, but he made no movement to check how much was entering his chambers like he normally would.

His head was killing him, and he could hear his heartbeat banging against his skull. He’d been loathing the night since the day he’d lost his eye.

That had been the fateful day that ruined his entire existence, and also the reason why he was awake in the hour of the wolf, when the entirety of King’s Landing should have been deep asleep.

He had often dreamed about cutting off his scarred skin. Surely, the action would provoke not only the risk of infection and an immense amount of bleeding, but also a wider- and so more irritating- scar on his face.

That was not what he had desired during the open-eyed dreams he’d had about slicing open his face once more, no. What currently appealed him was the tranquility that would come with the first stages of the healing process: no itch, nor irritation.

Just simple, pure pain.

He sighed and swung his legs off the bed. His eye did linger on the butter knife left on his table- it had caught the light coming from the hearth and reflecting onto the blade- but he got up and walked out of his rooms.

He wandered for a brief moment what you were doing. After all, a husband ought to worry for his wife’s whereabouts, whether he was loving or as Aemond was, which included a rather long list of disparaging adjectives- such as: abrupt, sharp-tongued, curt and cold when it came to those brief and definitely insignificant moments in which you two exchanged some words; unapproachable, uncaring and unresponsive when you needed his assistance (which happened only in one occasion, for the lesson was learnt fast); tense, silent and falsely indifferent when it came to your nearness.

Anyway, the thought of you being asleep brought an only slight sense of calmness in Aemond, for he reasoned that half of the couple- if one could call you two such- could find comfort in the confines of a bed in the darkest hours the night had to offer.

What he did not know was that you were far from asleep. Your life at the castle did not include much- quite the opposite, in fact. And you put your foot down so that you would never get used to such a disgraceful thing. You were, after all, the Rogue Prince’s daughter, and nothing in your body was ‘still’.

So, most of your nights were spent awake, walking around the interminable castle until the muscles in your legs hurt from tiredness or reading until your eyelids fell shut on their own.

Usually, the nights’ hours were not passed in the shared chambers you had with Aemond, but you found they had the perfect view of the full moon in that day’s clear night sky- despite the soft rain.

That was the reason you were there, your hands on the wet stone of the window ledge as you looked at the city below you. The rain was wetting part of your nightgown, but that was not your concern.

Rainy days in King’s Landing were not something usual this season, and it reminded you of Dragonstone in a slight way that you redeemed to be enough for comfort.

The chambers were beautiful, despite the obvious memory that surfaced in your mind: the wedding night. It hadn’t made you as excited as you and your sisters had dreamed them to be when you were younger.

You were aware that those hopes were a mere product of the fantasy of young and unaware children that loved to spend their days in the confines of the island, braiding their hair and taking about the dreams of the nights’ passed.

Still, hope hadn’t been a crime for your mind yet. You hated the mixed feelings you had felt that day. You recalled the unusual feeling of anxiety that had set into your gut in the morn and that carried through the hours of the day.

The memories of the ceremony were not many, aside from the grimace on your face that persisted through the wedding, celebrated under the Faith of the Seven and not in the tradition of Old Valyria, which you thought to be the rightful one.

What you remembered vividly, was the night. Hating Aemond Targaryen for what he’d called your cousins through the years of your childhood and early adolescence seemed nothing but rightful. And still…

You remembered his hand on your lower back as he’d walked you to your new shared chambers, and the way his warmth had seeped into the fabric of your dress.

You remembered the way he had not looked at you as you’d taken off the intricate wedding dress and left it on the floor after you’d stepped out of it.

He had put out the candles and told you to lie down on the bedding with a nod of his head before extinguishing the last source of light with a blow.

He had stripped completely before he’d also climbed on the sheets, making the mattress sink under his weight.

You had expected roughness and pain throughout the whole action, for many ladies of the court who had a friendly relationship with the Princess Regent, had told you what to expect would happen to you in the weeks preceding the wedding.

It did not come, that stinging sensation, the sharp feeling of the hardness entering you. He had worked you with his fingers the exact way you did when you were alone, almost making you think he had known your body despite having never seen it.

You had to repress your moans by biting the inside of your cheeks, and you remembered feeling glad that he could not see your face in the darkness that enveloped the chambers under his wish.

He had not kissed your lips once, but he had continued moving his fingers inside you until he had redeemed your cunt wet enough to be fucked.

That was when he had turned you around so you lied on your stomach and had pulled up your hips- the biggest contact he had offered you that night.

He had put a hand on your hip- it had been warm and comforting, despite it being distant at the same time, and it had stayed there for the whole time.

You had not come, for you forced yourself not to. His thrusts were determined: slow and steady at first, and grew faster as he continued taking your purity. But you had not finished, for the pleasure you had felt seemed so unexpected and abnormal you simply could not let your body do so.

But he had, and both of his hands were on your hips when he’d emptied himself inside of you. And then he had stilled, and you had heard his rough breathing and the sweat on his palms as he had slid them down and off your body.

He had walked out after his climax, leaving you on the marital bed, empty, still biting the inside of your cheek to withhold the moan you had let out once the heavy doors had closed behind him.

You remembered getting off the bed and feeling your legs weak. But you had still gone in front of the full length looking glass in the chambers, turned, and looked at your reflection from behind your shoulder. You had seen his seed trailing down the inside of your thighs.

You had touched yourself at the sight, thankful for being alone. You had done so many times after that night, and the mere thought sent a flush to your cheeks.

As you looked outside the window at the city below- still a number of candles burnt, but you could hold the number with your hands- and sighed, the sound of steps coming from outside made your head turn sharply to the dark wooden door.

Out of your deepest surprise, Aemond came in. He froze when he saw you, but made no move to step back, “Wife.” He greeted you, his eye falling from your face and finding an armchair.

“Husband.” you replied, tearing your eyes from what was his obviously tired form. But they found him again when you heard the sound of him sitting down. The way his hand was on his scar, the way his fingers traced it angrily, made your brows furrow. “Are you faring well?” you asked, for the silence was already starting to be uncomfortable.

Still, all he replied to your seemingly harmless question was: “Mh…” You could not resist to tut and turn once again to the sky.

Why did you even think you had the chance to have a normal opportunity for a conversation with him? Gods, you sometimes wished he were a mute, so he would have an excuse to substitute his words with those daft sounds.

You dug your nail into the skin of your finger and tried to contain the urge to walk away. After all, you were there first, and you would be the one who’d stay. What was he doing there, anyway? As far as you were aware, your shared chambers had been empty since that night of two moons ago.

Despite these thoughts, you started musing how lucky you had been to end up with someone like Aemond. He was far from the best husband, and so was clear to everyone, but he was also far from the worst.

He did not talk- even if it sometimes infuriated you; if he had lovers, his relationships were discreet; and, as he was rather far in the line of succession, especially now that Rhaenyra had birthed five children, he did not crave for an heir- testimony was the fact he had considered his duty fulfilled after taking your virginity.

“If I am correct…” His voice made you snap out of your thoughts and you turned around, looking at how his tapered fingers were still pressing onto the scarred tissue. The strain in his voice was obvious as he continued his request, “You have quite the experience with poultices?”

Your eyebrows raised at his words. How in his Seven Hells did he have that information? You may have flaunted yourself about your prowess now and then, but that had happened a long time ago, many years before your wedding.

“Y-yes.” you said, clearing your throat and turning to face him, leaning against the window ledge, “What is the matter?”

You saw how his eye avoided any form of contact, deciding to set on the stone floor instead. “I might need something to… Ease the pain from my scar.” You were extremely sure that Aemond Targaryen’s scar, in that exact moment, hurt him way less than his pride after having asked for help.

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain a grin at the thought. “Alright.” you pushed yourself off the ledge you leaned against and walked towards the door, “Come to the maester’s laboratory.”

He followed without a word, walking behind you and silently letting you know he had no intention of speaking another word for the foreseeable future. You had no intention of saying anything else whatsoever, so the walk to the laboratory was punctuated by the sound of your and Aemond’s boots on the stone floor.

His eye was stuck on your form as you walked in front of him, on your hands joined behind your back. He had not seen you so clearly since that night of two moons ago, for he had since then forced himself to stay as far from you and from the places you visited as was possible for him.

He tried not to let himself be bothered by the fact that you had decided to play his game and not try to initiate a conversation as you would have normally done. But mostly, he tried not to let his eye linger on the hypnotising sway of your hips and of your blood red skirt.

The colour annoyed him. You were supposed to be his wife, but the fabric and embroidery held nothing resembling the ones the women in his family wore, and everything to do with women he was not supposed to care about.

Once you reached the airy chamber, the rain rhythm had picked up, but the sky had begun to shift its colours to those that belonged to Dawn.

The smell of pot marigold began to fill the room once you put the plant into boiling water, and you had to gather the courage to take a small jar from a shelf and walk towards him. You did not know why he’d asked for your help when the highest maesters with the best training in all of Westeros were in King’s Landing to tend to any problem the royal family thought they had.

Also, why would he do it if, when you approached, he eyed the jar and the transparent gel it contained with wariness, his jaw tightening? And why had he said he needed assistance if he squirmed away when you raised your hand to apply the poultice on his cheek.

“Aemond-“ you sighed, but he interrupted you.

“What is that?”

His sharp tone made you bite the inside of your cheek so you did not roll your eyes at him. “Aloe. It could alleviate the irritation if you let me put it on the scar.”

Aemond had the audacity to tut at the words that came out of your mouth, but he complied and turned his head to the side. The small victory that filled your chest was shortly replaced by the need to be wary, for you had to take off his eye-patch.

There had yet to occur an occasion when he’d taken off the leather that covered his eye, and you did not know if your curiosity was strong enough to invade his privacy in such a manner.

But you reasoned it was him that asked your help, despite the truism that he did not crave for the touch that came with it. So, you took an internal deep breath and brought your hand behind his head to grab the strand of the patch and take it off.

He did not move, he seemed to be frozen with the cold of beyond the Wall. You thought his breathing had ceased, but when you saw the twitch of his jaw- which he was shutting so tightly his teeth might have snapped- you released a breath.

He was beautiful, and you had known so for a very long time, but nothing would have prepared you for the sight in front of you: the blue sapphire was bigger than you expected, and it caught the light of the few remaining candles right away, casting an eerie and soft light to his features. If anything, it made him more delightful to the eye, in a frightening way.

You told yourself to stop looking, or he would have definitely left. So you unscrewed the lid of the jar and took some of the gel onto two of your fingers before bringing it to his cheek.

His skin was scorching hot, so much so that you felt it even through the cold substance you were applying to the scar. His violet eye was fixed on the stone wall, not moving and inch, but you saw and felt the tension in his entire body, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your presence that caused such a reaction or the fact that you were touching his scarred cheek in a manner you had never seen anyone do, not even his mother.

You straightened up and screwed the lid back on the jar, turning swiftly around and walking back towards the marigolds. You closed your eyes shut and took a deep breath- that may have been the hardest thing you’ve ever done, on the same level of claiming your dragon.

He watched you, more insistently than he’d wished to as you strained the marigolds from the boiling water. The fresh sensation the aloe left on his cheek reminded him of your fingers, and that made him need to sink his nails into his palm. Suddenly, he felt the room was not airy enough, and he got up swiftly to walk to one of the tall and narrow windows. Taking a deep breath with his eye closed, he asked with words that came out more curt and strained than he’d intended: “What is it you are making now?”

“The poultice I was talking about.” you said quickly, your voice slightly higher than usual. It made Aemond wonder if he was what had your voice raise in such a way, if that was the effect he had on you, because the effects you had on him was making him bleed from his left palm.

Aemond nodded stiffly, letting out a deep breath and feeling the fresh air of the morning hitting the still not absorbed aloe on his scar. “And how often should I apply it?” he asked, hoping you would not notice the fact he was trying not to breathe the flowery scent anymore, because your skin definitely smelt the same way now, and he seemed unable to drift his mind to any other thought.

“As many times you feel you are in need of it.” you answered, putting the marigolds into a mortar, the action leaving a slight yellow tint on the tip of your fingers.

Why was he looking at you? When had he turned around and let his eye wander to your face? He cursed himself internally, for the only candle that was still burning- the one set on the counter where you were working- was casting a warm light across your features, making them even softer, prettier than they needed to be.

He wanted to put that fucking candle off- that was the reason why he approached, of course. “How will I know when it’s working?” he asked, uttering the most superficial and mindless question he could muster. But he forgot about it when he noticed your fingers stilling momentarily at his nearness, and when they started smashing the marigolds again, your movements were not as precise any longer, but more erratic.

You answered the obvious, “If your scar does not pain you as much…” but the softness of your voice almost made Aemond grin. He restrained himself, however, as he halted his steps and stood right behind you.

You felt the heat of his body seeping into you, and you felt foolish for the feeling your mind mastered up, because he was not touching you. “So,” he said, the leather covering his arms cracking when he crossed them in front of his broad chest, “can I come to you each time I feel pain, wife?” His tone was challenging, mocking even, but you heard the slightest bit of hope for you to accept that involuntarily slipped out of his mouth. "What if it's in the middle of the night?" he continued, stepping closer still, making his forearm brush against the middle of your back. "Will you rise from your bed and tend to your husband?"

You sighed and turned around so you were facing him. He was closer than expected, but you tried not to let the things his nearness provoked from showing on your face, despite the breath that caught in your throat. “If you so need it, husband, I will.”

You clearly saw his pupil dilate as you turned and looked up at him, making the purple of his iris almost disappear completely as it got swallowed by the purest black. The sapphire did not have any available source of light to catch, but Aemond was handsome nonetheless. You were completely aware of the blush on your fair skin, showing bluntly to his hungry gaze, but you told yourself that he was most obviously also affected by the closeness of your bodies.

“Good,” he said, almost spat. But then his hand raised and tucked a strand of hair that was left out of your tresses behind your ear. His hand lingered purposely, letting you feel the scorching heat of his fingertips as he trailed them down to your jaw. “I would hate to suffer needlessly.” You saw his eye drop to your lips.

The only occasion in which your lips had met had been the wedding ceremony, and the contact had been brief, chaste. The sudden memory made you wonder what he would taste like. You were aware that he drank green tea most morns and every evening, so that was certainly an option.

Aemond's thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, ghostly, tracing a path down to your neck, stopping just short of your mouth. He could feel the rapid beat of your heart pounding against his fingertips. "Perhaps you can apply it yourself tonight...wife." He whispered, his breath burning pleasantly against the soft skin of your cheek.

The words you spoke next made you doubt all the hatred you had felt all these years towards the man that was now in front of you, asking you to service him and making the undergarments covering your most intimate part wet. “If you wish me to.”

He stepped back, releasing you from his hold, but the heat between you remained palpable. “Yes,” he replied, his voice husky with barely contained desire. "I think I'll enjoy that."

Despite the need you now felt for his touch, you were extremely grateful when his hand fell from your face and he walked out of the maester’s laboratory, leaving you with the poultice you were making for him.

You had never felt like this, what was getting to you? Pleasing a man in such a way? Yield to his desires without hesitation? And he was not any man: he was the one who had married you against your will and fucked you from behind before leaving you alone for interminable days. And he was now deciding you worth of his attention?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, and opened them again as you released it. You took the mortar back into your hands and continued on with the poultice, forcing yourself to forget who it was for.

Aemond arrived at your shared chambers with fast steps and faster breath. He needed to get a grip of whatever it was he was feeling and stop acting as if he actually desired you. It was an ignoble thought, the one he’d had back in the maester’s laboratory with you. Fucking without the sole intent of procreation was a sin, and he would not inflict such a stain upon himself for someone he had not cared to know for the two decades of his life.

Still, he poured two goblets of Dornish Red and did not touch his until you came back with the poultice in hand.

His eye fixed on you until you stood in front of him, and then he gave you one of the goblets. “Thank you.” you replied as you took it, brushing your fingers against his in the motion. His skin was still hot, but not as much as before. Your eyes stayed in his as you both drank the fresh liquid quickly.

Then, letting out a breath, you unscrewed the lid containing the marigold poultice and took some on your index and middle finger, bending over towards him. He tilted his head to the side, leaving you the space you needed right before your fingers came in contact with his cheek.

His nails dug once again into his palm at your nearness, and also because he had been right: you now smelled of flowers, and he loathed how perfectly it suited you.

Even as his nails stabbing his skin did something to distract him from your perfume, his thoughts were far from calm. He couldn't ignore the way his pulse quickened whenever you touched him, or the way his cock stirred in his breeches at the mere sound of your breath, which was also not the one of a tranquil individual.

“I am done.” you said with haste, straightening up and screwing the lid back on the jar and leaving it on the table, near his goblet. His eye moved to you, taking in your flustered expression and the pink colouring of your cheeks.

Silence stretched between you two as he sat on the chair and looked up to you as you stood in front of him. You did not know whether you wished to run away from him or sit on his lap and grind yourself on him until you shivered with pleasure.

He answered the question for you when he said, “You may leave now.”

You did stand there for a moment after those words exited his mouth, looking at him as his hand fished the eyepatch from his pocket and put it back to cover his sapphire eye. You pressed your lips together with strength to remind yourself what was happening, and you turned and left.

❀❀

What had been tormenting Aemond Targaryen the most, was that he was reminded of you each time he applied the poultice to his scar. He had tried to stop, but it had become almost a drug, both because it made him stop wanting to cut his face and because he smelled you each time. It made it way easier to fuck his hand thinking of you.

A month had passed since the time he’d last spoken to you, and the contents of the jar you had given him were completely gone. It was a perfect lubricant, and it also did something for his scar, which could have been a double win for you, if he’d told you.

It was the perfect occasion to seek you out again without seeming to have interest. He had used every remaining bit so as to show you he had waited as much as possible before coming to ask for help.

He squeezed the glass in his hand as he knocked at the doors of your private chambers, and when your sweet and calm voice told him to come in, he pushed them open. You were sitting in front of your vanity looking glass, braiding your hair simply as you prepared for going to sleep.

“Wife,” he greeted you, relishing in your surprised gaze that met his in the reflection of the glass. He showed you the empty jar, “I find myself in need of your services once again.”

Your brows furrowed, and he was aware that the amount of time in which the poultice had finished must have seemed incredibly short in relation to the quantity of the product. Fortunately, you stood from your chair and relaxed your eyebrows again, approaching him and taking the jar from his hand. His hands were scorching hot once again.

“Do you wish to wait for me here while I make it?” you asked, purposefully ignoring the way his eye was burning holes into your scalp, seeking for visual contact.

“I will come with you.”

As you walked, Aemond’s eye remained fixed on the tantalising way the skirt of your gown moved, and Gods forbid the thoughts that surged into his mind while you climbed the stairs before him.

It could be easy for him to bring you into his bed and satisfy his desire, but he had a completely developed need to strain himself until he could not take it any longer. It made whatever it took far sweeter, and you would have been the most palatable thing he will sink his teeth into. Because he will sink them.

Once you reached the maester’s laboratory again, Aemond sat down on a wooden chair, crossing his ankle over his leg and looking at you while you worked. You did not glance once at him, and you were proud of that as you boiled the marigolds into the water again. That was until he spoke.

“Do you have a lover, Princess?”

That made you turn sharply around, almost touching the pot. You blocked your hand against your stomach, “I beg your pardon?”

"I merely asked if there was another man who had the privilege of warming your bed on these cold nights." His tone remained even, but there was a tightness to it that he couldn't quite mask.” he cleared himself, before standing from the chair and walking towards you with his usual slow and measured steps. “There is nothing wrong with the notion.”

Your mouth fell open at his words, and you weren’t able to answer his question but with a small shake of your head. The notion made you feel slightly out of place. You had always thought Aemond had other women, but the question he asked almost assured you he did, and it made you feel betrayed in some way, because you did not have anyone else. Or, well, anyone at all, because you did not have Aemond.

“Hmm.” was his answer, before his eye moved from you to the pot behind you, “I believe the marigolds are ready.”

You cleared your throat and turned back around to continue with your poultice, draining the flowers and moving them to the mortar to smash them. The scent filled the room again, and you closed your eyes, repeating the motion mechanically and hoping he’d turn away and go sit back on that fucking chair.

❀❀

Three weeks later, Aemond Targaryen was once again at your door, demanding more of that poultice. You wanted to ask him how in the Seven Hells had he been able to finish such an amount of product in twenty one days, but you contained yourself and sighed, walking out of your room and towards the maester’s laboratory without a word, knowing he would follow.

Your strides were faster, and you held your skirt up so as not to trip on the fabric. You wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, so you ripped the stem off the marigold petals as the water boiled, throwing them into the pot before leaning against the countertop.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, knowing Aemond was watching you intently. Fortunately, your hair was down that day, and it covered your face completely.

It was when a soft breath hit your bare arm that you opened them again, and, tilting your head, silver strands came into view before a black leather eyepatch.

“You smell just like them.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear, so as to be able to look at his face without obstacles. “Is it a bad thing?” you asked in a small voice, and despite wanting not to care about his thoughts for he most certainly did not know you, you cared about his answer.

"No," Aemond replied softly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting moment. His hand twitched ever so slightly, as if he wanted to reach out and brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, maintaining his usual poised demeanour. He had learned long ago to hide his true desires beneath layers of stoic indifference. "Quite the contrary," he added, his voice low and husky. "It's... comforting."

You pressed your lips together and turned your head back towards the marigolds- it was time to drain them, not time to blush for the childish words that came out of the mouth of Aemond Targaryen.

Still, how did he do that? How could he always make you feel so small and incompetent with a mere stare. As you transferred the flowers into the mortar and began to smash them, you started thinking of any way, any question that could make him as uncomfortable as he’d made you.

“Do you have a lover?”

You saw him straightening up after the words left your mouth, and you realised you had hit the spot. His hands joined in front of his lap, and he stared down at you as you continued to smash the marigolds- your position made him seem even taller than he already was. “That is hardly any of your concern, wife.” he answered coolly, turning his gaze back to the crushed flowers.

Your movements halted, and you looked up at him, an unbelieving smile on your lips, “Why are you free to ask such questions, yet when I do so you are not willing to answer?”

His eye betrayed nothing of what he felt, except for the distaste he seemed to reserve to you when you talked to him. “You chose to answer, however pathetically.”

The smile, false as it was, faded from your lips. You preferred the version of him that asked you uncomfortable questions and stared at your every move, no doubt. This version made you want to slap him across the face.

And that’s exactly why you did it. He did not move much at the impact- he almost did not move at all- but you hoped it stung as much as it did in your hand. “Then ask a fucking maester for this daft poultice and leave me be.” you spat, grabbing your skirts and walking out of the chambers.

❀❀

You had never loathed and yearned someone in such a way.

The mere sight of his walk, so rhythmic and precise, made the hairs on your arm stick up, and the sound of his steps had your ears inevitably tense up, and they made you hope that he was walking to come to you, to make you go mental again. But he never did.

Even if you heard his steps outside your chambers at night, stilling in front of the door, even if he stared at you across the table during dinner, even if you found him occupying spaces he never used to be in, he did not speak a word to you. It made you incredibly frustrated, and the desire to slap his face again made itself palpable.

It was another full moon, however, and, having lost the last one for Aemond Targaryen, you decided you were not going to cower again. You made your way to your shared chambers despite you wished not to stand in the same room as him and pushed the doors open after taking a deep breath.

You found him there, but you were not going to give him the satisfaction of having a reaction to his presence. “Husband.” you greeted him with a curt nod, your eyes not truly meeting his as you walked to the window. You lent your hands against the window ledge and looked at the source of pale light coming from the night sky.

When he did not greet you, you felt a sense of pride, for that made him a childish man, a pathetic one. Although the urge to speak to him, to ask him if the poultice the maester made was working, to ask him if he could not sleep, was strong, stronger was the need to hate him. So you bit your tongue and stared out the window.

He crossed the room slowly, his boots echoing against the stone floor, making the hair on your neck stand up. However, you did not turn around. "I see you've finally decided to grace me with your presence." He spoke, his voice dripping with disdain. "Mind telling me what's so bloody important about that window?" his sharp voice cut through what could have been a pleasant ten minutes.

“Tonight is a full moon.” you answered, not taking your eyes away from the sky, although you swallowed heavily. “And I was not trying to avoid you, merely going about my day.”

He let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "So, you're here because of the moon, not for me?" His tone was laced with bitterness. Aemond stepped closer, standing just behind you, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

He placed his hand on the window ledge next to yours, his fingers so near yours you could feel the heat emanating from them. You took your hand away, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Bold of you to imply that I am here for you.” you said, feeling both repulsion and a strong arousal at his nearness.

“I imply nothing.” Aemond replied curtly, but his next words dripped with challenge: “These are the chambers in which we are supposed to share a bed. If you are not here for me, I do not see why you should be here at all.”

You turned to face him slowly after his words, your eyes going from his chest covered in dark green fabric to his face. “I will leave, then.” you announced.

Before you could do any move- which you were not going to, for those words were only spoken to make him react- his hand came up and grabbed your wrist. His hold was strong, but it did not aim to hurt. "No," he growled. "We are wed. You will stay." A flash of anger ignited in his good eye as he held your gaze. "If you're so determined to ignore me during the day, fine. But nights are mine." The words were spoken with a low, menacing undertone that left little room for argument. He didn't release his hold on your arm, waiting for your reaction.

But you did not give him the satisfaction, for you turned back around and faced the window, not uttering a word back to him. His grip tightened momentarily, making you feel how boiling his skin was, before he released you.

You heard the sound of his boots, and you turned around despite yourself, thinking for a moment that he was going to walk away. But he filled two goblets with red wine and brought one back to you.

“Am I to consider this a symbol of truce? Or the apology you cannot utter?” you asked him, taking the cold metal in your hand and bringing it up to have a sip.

“Consider it what you will.” he said, his tone still harsh as he did the same thing, but his eye moved to your lips, watching as the liquid slightly tinted the inner skin of your lips of a dark red.

You sighed and turned back around, keeping the goblet near your chest as you looked at the night sky with way less interest than you had when you had come in. You heard him putting the goblet on the windowsill, before he exhaled an intentionally deep breath, hitting your skin and making goosebumps rise.

He looked at the moon too, for some moments, and you wondered what he was thinking about. Then, out of the blue, he took a step forward, making his chest touch your back, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing his palm flat on your stomach. “I did not realise the moon was so much more captivating than I, Princess.” he murmured in your ear, standing so close your perfume filled his nostrils.

“I will continue to pretend it is.” you answered after hoping your voice would not come out broken.

You heard the brief chuckle he let out against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Is all this because I did not answer your question the past moon? Or for the words I spoke?” he asked, his hand moving left until it rested on your hip, “I will admit it might have been a slight overreaction.”

You let out a scoff at his words, taking a big swig of wine to try and forget about his hand on you. “At least you acknowledge it.”

When his hand moved to your arse, squeezing it softly with his warm hand, you thought yourself about to drop the goblet. You were glad when he took it from you with his free hand, that touched yours extremely more than necessary, and finished the few remaining drops before settling it down the windowsill beside his. “I also said you smelled of marigolds, did I not? I said I found it comforting.”

“You did.” you said with what was your remaining voice, before stating more confidence, “You brought me the wine as an apology.”

“I did.” he blurted out, his hand stilling for a moment before it went back to your hip, as did the other one. “I am sorry.” he confessed then, making you feel far from pathetic after having Aemond Targaryen apologise with no hint of sarcasm in his voice.

But when he squeezed your hips, brought you back to reality and pressed his erection to your back, he made you suddenly realise what was happening. His breath ghosted on your neck before the tip of his nose brushed your jawline. “Does my apology satisfy you, wife?” he asked in a husky whisper as his hands roamed your waist.

The warmth of his body seeped into yours and into the fabrics you were wearing. You imagined he felt the same fires stocking his insides when he breathed out as if oxygen was just given back to him. He brought you closer still, massaging his cock with the curve of your arse, as if the mere contact was enough to fulfill his burning desire.

You leaned over the windowsill and rested on your elbows, arching your back nonchalantly and looking at him from behind your shoulder. “I believe it appropriate.”

At your actions, his mouth fell agape, and he looked down at your arse, pressed against his lap in such a tantalising manner he seemed about to rip the fabric off in one tug, letting this game you played cease. His hand moved to caress your back, and it returned to your hip when his eye found yours once again.

He pressed himself harder into you, as if to be sure you felt the extent of his hardness, the full lenght of his desire. “Do you wish for me to show you just how sincere my apology can be?”

You bit your lip, looking at his strong hand covering your hip and wrinkling the soft fabric of your nightgown, and nodded.

Aemond let out a deep breath at your consent, and he bent over you slowly, eyes closed, as he massaged your hips roughly. “Shall we move to our bed, then?” he asked, using the possessive adjective purposefully.

It made you grin, and you straightened up as he did the same, before facing him. With a hand on the side of his neck, your nails grazing the contour of his jaw, you led him to the bed, before pushing him to sit on the softness.

You reached behind your back, and undid the bow that kept your nightgown tight. He spoke when your hands moved to the button at the back of the collar, “Can I be of any-“

“No.” you interrupted him, looking at how his violet eye darkened at your firm answer. You let the light fabric glide down your shoulders before you bared your chest to his view, and then your stomach, and your legs.

You took a step forward, completely naked before him. He breathed out again, raising a hand and placing it on your hip, almost testing if you were really not just a product of his fantasies. “Devine.” he said in a whisper, genuine and unfiltered, as he ate you with his eye as much as he could, taking in everything possible in the dim light of the full moon.

Your hand found his shoulder once again as you climbed on top of him, the softness of your thighs against his sides. Your hair concealed both your faces from whatever else was in the room, and you took off his eyepatch right before it fell discarded on the stone floor.

It was obvious the slight discomfort he felt, but he did not let it linger, for his tapered fingers trailed down your waist to your thigh and felt every dip and curve in its way. “May I touch you?” he asked, the purple in his iris completely replaced by the black of his pupil as he stared up at you, his thumb tracing the edge of your pussy.

One of your hands left his shoulder to find his between your thighs, and you guided two of his fingers to your entrance, letting out a breath as he began exploring your wet folds.

Aemond’s mouth parted at the feeling of your slick cunt, testament of your desire for him, and slowly pushed inside, relishing in the tightness around his fingers. He started moving slowly, curling his fingers before sliding out of you completely and filling you up once again.

You started to grind your hips against his hand, coating his milky skin with your arousal as you threw your head back and moaned. The sound made the grip of his hand on your hip tightened so much you were sure it would have left a bruise, but you did not stop him.

Your nails scratched at the base of his neck, giving him the signal to pick up speed. His fingers moved faster, making you cry out as he leaned forward and started tasting the skin of your neck like a man starved, nipping and kissing, licking and biting.

Another moan escaped your mouth, and his fingers went even faster, fucking your tight cunt until, added to the sound of your moans and his rugged breathing, there also was that of the wetness inside of you.

Heat flushed through Aemond as you moaned on top of him, the sound alone enough to make his cock swell with anticipation. He was mesmerized by the way you responded to his touch, each gasp, each little movement driving him madder with desire. He thought he might just release himself simply from watching you ride his hand, but he fought it back. He wanted more, so much more, and he wouldn't let his own pleasure interrupt this moment. The feel of your cunt clenching around his digits, your body writhing with ecstasy, was worth far more than the temporary relief of orgasm.

In a swift move, he picked you up and stood upright, keeping his fingers inside your cunt even as he laid you on the bed. He moved on top, one of his legs between yours, and he slipped his fingers out of you.

At the missing contact you whined, bringing him closer with a hand on the side of his neck. He let out a satisfied smile and leaned into your ear, “Patience.”

His lips found yours hungrily, then, making you taste the wine you had just consumed and the fire that burned on his tongue, while his hand still cupped your sex possessively. You moaned against his hot mouth, rolling your hips to tell him you wanted more.

He grinned and broke the kiss, and before you knew, his hands were gripping your thighs, sinking into the soft skin, and his mouth hovered over your dripping pussy.

You wanted to ask him what he intended to do, but it became quite clear when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, savouring every last drop of your juices, ready to bring you to the brink of pleasure.

You moaned loudly, finding his hair right away and pulling the silver and silky locks to urge him closer to your dripping heart. Your feet lied on his back as you closed your eyes, a sensation immensely stronger than the one you felt alone started to be felt in your lower stomach.

Aemond's breath was ragged, his lust evident in every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his tongue against your sensitive flesh. As he teased your clit, his one good eye focused intently on your face, drinking in the sight of your pleasure.

Your taste was intoxicating, your cries music to his ears. He craved this, this raw display of passion and trust, and he intended to make the most of it. He slid his tongue inside of you, thrusting in and out before returning to your clit and replacing it with his fingers, relishing the way your muscles contracted around them.

He felt your body tense, your breathing quicken, and he knew you were close. He increased his efforts, determined to make you scream his name- or whatever title you chose to give him in that moment- to the heavens.

You came undone, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Aemond continued to lick and suckle at your clit until the last tremor subsided, only then crawling up your body to claim your mouth in a possessive kiss, sharing your taste with you.

Your vision returned when his lips collided with yours, finding entrance to your mouth right away and caressing your tongue with his. You moaned into his mouth, willing your legs to stop shaking after your orgasm.

He broke the kiss, and brought his hand to his lips, tasting you on the fingers he’d used to bring you the best pleasure you had ever felt. He looked down at you as he did so, shifting position so as to remind you of his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Strip.” you breathed out in what sounded much like a plea to your ears, but the frantic motions in which he did what you said made you understand how desperate he was to stretch you out.

He quickly revealed his toned and flawless chest to your eyes, before taking off his trousers with equal haste. Stepping out of them, he locked his eye with yours as he slid off his breacheas. He took his hard cock in his hand, pumping it slowly as he positioned himself on the bed once again, the pressure of him on his knees making the mattress sink.

Precum leaked from his head, and you remembered how it felt to have his seed inside of you after your wedding night. He gripped your knee, spreading your legs apart guiding his cock over your still trembling pussy.

His breathing was extremely laboured as he looked down, “I do not have a lover.”

The confession made your eyes shoot up to his, wide and attentive for what he was about to say, but no other words of the matter came out of his mouth. “You… You do not?” you breathed out, needy for another reassurance.

His eye went to you, and he shook his head. Then he licked his lips and leaned down to your ear. He left a ghost of a kiss on your cheekbone, making the skin tingle, before moving to your ear. “No, sweet wife… But, if you must know, I have fucked my hand countless of times thinking of this perfect cunt of yours… And of your smell, most of all.” he whispered huskily, his hand coming to rest on your hip, squeezing the flesh.

He left you wordless and with ragged breathing as he straightened up. His hand found his hard shaft again, and he slapped it against your pussy, coating your clit with his precum and making you squirm for the touch on the still sensitive part.

He watched your reaction with dark intensity, a hint of satisfaction flashing across his features at your responsiveness. His thumb stroked the bundle of nerves lazily, even if completely aware, while his cock teased your entrance. He knew you were ready, yet he took his time, prolonging the torture for both of you. "Do you want me?" He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yes!” you almost yelled, making his lips curve into a predatory smirk. With a triumphant grin, Aemond positioned himself at your entrance, feeling the wetness and warmth that awaited him. His hand left your hip, gripping your breast instead, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, teasing you even further.

When his hand moved back to your hip, but he made no sign of moving, you rolled your eyes, “Aem-” but you could not finish saying his name that he thrust into you with a ferocity that was just short of violent, and a groan escaped him at the sensation.

Despite the loss of gentleness that he offered to you as he took you for the second time, you could not deny that was exactly how you wanted him to fuck you. Your moan reverberated loudly through the walls of your shared chambers as he pounded into you with a ferocity that made your walls clamp down on his length.

His hips snapped forward with unrelenting force, burying his length deep within you, eliciting another loud moan. The sight of you writhing beneath him was enough to make him lose control, but he fought to keep himself in check.

He savoured the feel of your body tightening around him, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, and the soft whimpers that fell from your lips. Aemond couldn't help the thought crossing his mind: she was his now. His to claim whenever he wanted, his to protect, and his to pleasure. It filled him with an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction that bordered on possessiveness. "Fuck," he growled, the sight of his cock disappearing into your depths driving him closer to the edge.

He pulled out abruptly, causing you to gasp in surprise and protest. He hooked both hands under your knees and spread you out to him. “Was I blind to wait this long to take you again?” he asked almost to himself as he drank the sight of you, glistening and trembling for his attention.

With one swift movement, he entered you again, making you feel another orgasm approach. You sunk your head on the pillows, your mouth opened as he started thrusting again, moans of pure bliss and satisfaction coming out of his mouth.

One of his hands moved to find your soft thigh, “I want you to look, wife.” he said almost pleadingly. “I want you to look as I claim you again, as my seed fills your beautiful cunt.”

You bit your lip hard but looked down at his cock as he moved fast, making you take it inside, which you did greedily. It all made your walls tighten around his length even more than before, making him grunt out a moan.

“Gods,” he whispered gravelly, furrowing his brows in pleasure but still maintaining his gaze on where your bodies joined, “It’s so fucking perfect.”

He slammed into you even harder then, but his erratic thrusts made you understand he was about to finish. “Fuck…” he grunted again, and he leaned over your leg, bending it and letting his cock deeper inside you.

Your hand found his neck, bringing him closer while applying pressure to it as your cunt spasmed around him. You closed your eyes shut in pleasure, but the iron grip on your thigh reminded you to look as he had ordered.

So you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling your throat going raw at the contained screams of pleasure while you came around him. Your grip on his throat loosened drastically, for your strength was now completely drained out of you, but then he buried himself inside your cunt to the hilt, sliding out to do it again, all accompanied by his moans into your ear as he emptied himself inside of you.

You saw the arm that he was holding upon to give up, and, spent, he lay on top of your chest, his skin glistening in the candlelight due to the sheer layer of sweat on it.

Your hand found his hair, pushing the silver strand away from his face. He sighed heavily in a weak attempt to regain his breath, and rested a hand on your ribcage, letting his thumb trace circles on the skin. “We will continue once we have rested a moment.” he announced, making you breathe out a laugh and raise your eyebrows.

“Aemond,” you said with a lingering smile, your free hand finding his back and tracing the same circles he was on you. “It has yet to pass a minute.”

“I am fully aware,” he replied, moving to rest his chin on your sternum so he could look up at you. “We have been married for five moons now, and this is the second time I have you… I need more.” he said, his eye serious as he bent to leave a kiss on your skin.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“hungover” - hotch x fem!reader

after a girls’ night in, you wake up next to your boyfriend.

1380 words - FLUFFY FLUFF

cw; mentions of alcohol and food, implied age gap?, typical hangover, jemily agenda (sry not sry)

a/n: I wrote this on my phone on vacation bc I have a serious problem

———————

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your clothes.

You aren’t in your clothes. And you only realize it because of the scent wafting up your nose. Sea Salt Breeze - the cologne you’d gotten him for Christmas last year - emanates from the t-shirt that envelopes your upper half. You dip your chin for another whiff, breathing him in deeply. You want the smell inscribed into your brain.

You feel the bed dip and creak and you instinctively shut your eyes, playing possum as Aaron pads into the bathroom. The door whines as he shuts it most of the way, not totally closing it because he thinks you’re still asleep and that the sound of the door shutting will wake you.

Each of your senses turns on one at a time, like your brain waves run on dial-up Internet. You open your eyes and the room is mostly dark, save for the sliver of light creeping in through the outline of the curtains. You run the palm of your hand along Aaron’s sheets and marvel over how soft they are - Egyptian cotton, he’d told you once before.

Your head hurts, but only mildly. You’d certainly been drunker before, but last night was still up there. Penelope made her mojitos strong.

You slowly sit up in the bed as Aaron opens the door, flicking the bathroom light off in the same motion. Your eyes meet his and he cracks a small smile. “Thought you’d still be asleep,” he muses. You love his pale blue boxers and seeing the hair on his legs. His calves are crazy defined - he’s a runner, after all, but still. You rarely see him in anything but a suit and tie, so it’s always a treat. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shake your head, wincing slightly at the movement. Maybe you’re a little more hungover than you thought. “I was already awake,” you mumble, running a hand over your face. “Did you put me in your own clothes last night? I have pajamas in my drawer,” you point out, gesturing to the second drawer of Aaron’s dresser, the one that contains your set of pajamas, a few spare pairs of underwear, and a couple of emergency outfits, just in case you end up sleeping over at his place.

It happens more often than not, so you keep the drawer decently stocked at all times.

“You insisted,” Aaron climbs into the bed, reaching for you. He tugs you to him and you roll over onto your side, and then halfway onto your tummy so that your leg drapes over his and your palm rests flat on his chest.

You can hear his heart beating. It’s like a metronome, steady and guiding and calm. You feel his pointed chin nuzzle into your hair and then, his lips, quick yet effective, against your forehead.

Flashes of last night run through your head. You, Emily and JJ, over at Penelope’s apartment. A symphony of girlish giggles, talking about Emily and JJ’s upcoming wedding date, drinking at least three pitchers of mojitos among the four of you. Watching Dirty Dancing and gabbing the entire time, realizing it’d be a bad idea to drive yourself home, and calling Aaron to come get you.

When he arrived, you called him Hotch and apologized for him having to come get you, and he reminded you that he was Aaron and he was your boyfriend and he would pick you up anytime you needed it. You were determined to play the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on the ride home, fumbling with his phone until you found it.

You belted out (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life and demanded Aaron sing along. He admitted that he didn’t know all the words and you gave him a stern lecture until you started laughing so hard that you were in tears. Traffic lights reflected Christmas ornament colors in Aaron’s brown eyes as he drove, occasionally glancing over at you.

You swore you saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as you berated him for not knowing the words to such a classic song.

And then, once you were back at his place, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at your shoes dumbly until Aaron offered to help you take them off. “Laces too hard,” you mumbled, and Aaron just hummed in agreement before kneeling down to help you.

And then he helped you out of your clothes. He went for your drawer, and you threw a pillow at him. “The college t-shirt,” you demanded with these Bambi-esque eyes.

“Arms up, baby,” Aaron said as he slid his law school t-shirt onto your upper half. He saved that specific term of endearment for times like these, when he was taking care of you, when he himself was exhausted. You could tell he was, too, not only because he kept yawning, but because of that glazed-over look in his chestnut eyes.

You glance down at the words George Washington University, printed over your chest.

Aaron’s arms around you tighten for just a moment as he embraces you, and you dig your face a little further into his chest. “No Jack today?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky.

“At his grandparents’,” Aaron murmurs, and you yawn. He strokes your hair. “How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints so far.”

Aaron’s hand freezes in your hair, and you lift your head, smirking at him. His mouth has formed a straight line, but you snicker and you can tell he’s trying not to smile at your dirty joke. “Degenerate,” he calls you.

“Prude,” you tease back, inching closer to kiss his jaw briefly before laying your head back down. “It hurts,” you answer his question. “But not as bad as it could.”

“That’s good,” Aaron comments, his hand running through your hair again, gently, the world’s most relaxing and least effective hairbrush. It feels nice, but his hands are so big that his fingers snag on the tangles, accomplishing nothing but making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Nothing wrong with that, though.

“Do you want some Tylenol for your headache?” Aaron asks, and you just curl up into him even more. He’s so warm, and sturdy, and it’s so rare that you get mornings like this. Either you’re both working or Jack has a soccer game or there’s something else going on. It’s nice just to lay around with him, to be mildly hungover and pretend like that’s the only thing going on in either of your lives.

“That would require getting out of bed,” you protest, and feel Aaron’s arms tighten around you. He’s a very doting boa constrictor.

“How about I get it for you, then?” He offers, and you shake your head and shift all your weight onto him. He chuckles, a deep, throaty noise you know you’re only privy to for about twenty minutes right after he’s woken up. “So that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm, settling back in to your original position.

You lay like that with him, in comfortable silence, for a few minutes. Until it feels like you’ve melded into one being. Then Aaron finally shifts under you. “Honey, my arm’s asleep,” he whispers, as though he’s afraid to disturb you.

You slither off of him, then clamber out of bed with no amount of grace, going so far as to trip over the corner post of the bed. As Aaron sits up, you exclaim, “I’m okay!” and hold your hands out to steady yourself.

Aaron stifles a laugh and you watch him stand from the bed and he walks towards you, steadying you with one of those gargantuan hands on your shoulder. He then lifts that hand to tip your chin up. You step forward in a silent dance, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him. “Oh, shit,” you murmur. “I bet I have really awful morning breath.”

He just blinks a few times, and then offers you a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, honey, you kind of do,” he admits. You lightly punch him in the pectoral and then head to the en suite to brush your teeth.

[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[seungfl0wer]

*Confession Or Dare*

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader (fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Virgin!Chan, Cursing, P in V, Multiple Rounds, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Fluffy loving ending. Slightly Proofread. Sorry if I forgot any.

Request can be found here! Hopefully this is good :( I wrote it while in the car and half asleep so it honestly feels like a fever dream lol.

-🩵

Felix had invited you over for game night again. The last time you were over you were complete shit faced and ended up cuddled up to Chan. Nothing happened but when it’s mentioned it always makes him blush so much.

Chan was such an attractive man and knowing it made him blush always gave you butterflies. This highly gorgeous man becoming all flustered when it came to you.

The night started off as normal, you all playing games drinking and munching back on Felix’s cookies. Minho suggested playing truth or dare which everyone roared about. Last time you guys placed this Jeongin ended up streaking down the road and you found out Jisung masturbated 3 times that day. You know. Normal stuff for friends.

“Felix truth or dare?” Jeongin asked with a devilish smile.

“Dare” Felix replied with an eyebrow raised.

Jeongins smile grew as he spoke “I dare you to go to the fridge and eat one of those spicy peppers of Minhos with no drink”

Felix’s whined “are you trying to kill me?” He said getting up heading to the fridge. “What if don’t? What’s the punishment?” He asked looking at the pepper with a gulp.

“If you don’t you can’t game for the next 2 days” jeongin challenged.

Felix groaned taking a big chunk out of the pepper swallowing it fast. His face grew red as the heat started to kick in coughing at random.

“Y/n truth or dare?” Seungmin asked you, felix dying in the background.

“Uhm truth?” You said looking at Felix not wanting that to happen to you.

“What’s the freakiest thing you’ve ever done in bed?” He asked the other boys waited for your answer wide eyed.

You sighed before answering “Hmm at the park on the bench, sitting on my exs lap as people passed.” You said almost to nonchalantly.

Everyone just kinda stared at you, faces red as they listened. Chans face was beat red as he shifted a little his slightly hard cock poking up at your words.

You stared at everyone “what? You asked I just answered” you giggled.

As the game went on Chan couldn’t stop thinking about it. His head swirling with thoughts of you, how soft you must feel. How hot it would be if you’d do the same thing with him.

“Earth to Chris” Felix said teasingly as he waved his hand across his face.

Chan blinked “ah sorry was a bit zoned out” he said with a chuckle.

“Truth or dare” Minho said, as he said early but Chan was to lost in his thoughts to hear the first time.

“Oh let’s go with truth I guess” Chan said nervously.

“How many people have you slept with?” Minho asked.

Chans eyes went wide “well uhm- zero” he said softly.

Everyone’s eyes went wide staring dumb at him. “There’s no fucking way- you’re a virgin??” Changbin said as Minho started to laugh.

“I mean I’ve done things just not- just not sex” he said feeling a bit embarrassed now. He looked over at you, you were staring at him with a soft blush.

The boys continued to teased him for a few minutes not understanding how he could be. “Chan you’re- well you how can you be a virgin dude?” Jisung asked.

Chan shrugged “i don’t know just never felt right with someone” he said softly. He looked over at you again. He’d give anything if he could do it with you. He’s had such a crush on you for a while. He wasn’t sure about his feelings until the day you two ended up cuddling together.

He’ll never tell you but you admitted you had a crush on him in your drunk state. He only half heartily believed you wondering if you were just out of your mind drunk.

A few hours had passed and your buzz had wore off, however you still didn’t want to drive home. You were just gonna crash on the couch until Chan offered you his bed again. You smiled excepting of course, this time you were actually coherent and in the right mind to remember.

“Thanks for letting me crash in here again” you said with a smile.

“Of course, the couch is so hard.” He said with a laugh.

As you both crawled into bed you sighed, Chans bed was so comfortable and it just smelled like heaven. You could feel him become a bit tense as you pushed your body back against his. You smiled to yourself a bit feeling him becoming hard. You moved again this time on purpose, you could hear him moan softly. The sound sending jolt through your body straight to your core.

“Chan” you said softly. He let out a soft hum in response. “I can help change that you know? I mean the whole virgin thing. If you wanted to..” you blurted out.

He almost choked on air as tried to wrap his mind around what you just said. “I- you really want to?” he said in a croak.

You nodded, making him groan in response “oh- ok I would love to but just know I’ve- I’ve never done it before so might not be good” he said his face as red as tomato now.

You smirked “don’t worry handsome you can use me till you get the hang of it” you said voice low and hot. You pushed yourself back onto Chan more feeling how hard he was already. “Channie need you” you said voice faint head already empty.

He groaned eyes fluttering “yeah? What- what do you need?” He said as he leaned his body against you. “You I need you, please f- fuck Me” you said trying to be as sexy as possible.

His hands wondered to your hips pulling you against his cock harder. He started to rut against your ass letting out small sounds. He could honestly cum like this, the feeling of having you so close and knowing you wanted him? His mind was fuzzy.

You pulled away swiftly pulling your shorts down to your knees pushing your now bare ass against him. Chan let out a deep whine he quickly did the same his hard cock smacking against your ass.

He pushed his cock between your folds, humping into your soft thighs. His hands gripped around you wondering your body now. “Fuck y/n are you positive about this?” He asked again wanting to make sure.

“Mhm.. so fucking sure please use me channie” your words came out as a long moan the feeling of him making your cunt clench. You needed him just as bad, you had some many thoughts of this. How he’d look, sound, taste everything.

“You’re soaked already” he said his head now in the crook of your neck. He left soft kisses to your neck as he moved more letting all your juices coat him nicely. “Can- can I put it in?” He asked his voice sounding desperate.

As soon as you nod he was trying to push the head in. He felt embarrassed when he kept slipping letting out a whine. “I’m sorry” he said softly before aligning himself up right to finally push in. The smallest bit in he was already gone. “Sh-shit. You’re so fucking warm-“

He fucked into you sloppily, feeling you so tightly around him. “Can- can I play with your pretty breasts?” He asked. You smiled at his request “You can touch anywhere- anywhere you want I’m all yours”

Your words stirred something in him, his thrust become deeper as he played with your tits his lips attached to your neck. He was leaving wet kisses as he sucked pretty little marks on you. His hand came down to play with your pussy as he fucked into you.

The way your pussy pulled him in, clenching around him was to much. “Y/n fuck- you feel to good- I’m gonna cum” he said in a high pitched whine.

He was filling you up, hitting all your sweet spots. How could this be his first time? Fuck he was so good at it, he just felt perfect like he was made for you. “Ah channie cum it’s ok” you said pushing yourself back to meet his thrusts.

“I don’t want it to end- fuck- but you feel so good- ah fuck you’re so warm so fucking warm” he kept rambling as his high was coming close. “Y/n I can’t- to good- you feel to fucking good oh my god!” His voice sounded strained.

He came in that moment hands pulling you close as possible as he pumped himself deep into you. “Fuck y/n- fuck!” He moaned. The feeling of him cumming pushed you over the edge his hand never stopping on your clit. You came with in a few minutes of him. If he didn’t just cum he would have again at the feeling.

A few moments later both of you were breathing better not panting as much you could see his cock already hard again. “How are you so hard already?” You questioned.

He shrugged a bit “maybe cause I came so fast? I don’t know” he chuckled embarrassed a bit. “Can I ride you?” You blurted out looking down at him. He groaned at the question but nodded. You straddled him, letting yourself sink into his length.

“Ah- ah fuck- y/n I- fuck” his words were incoherent as you bounced on his cock. Your hands laid on his chest as you used his cock. Leaning down to kiss him sloppily tongues fighting for dominance.

It didn’t take long for him to cum again. Especially this way. The way you were using him, bouncing that perfect body. Those delicious tits bouncing and the taste of your tongue on his. It as so much you felt so good.

He pulled you to him after everything, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breaths. “Y/n.. you didn’t just do this cause I was a virgin right?” He questioned. You sighed a bit “no.. maybe I like you and wanted to be the one to help you experience it first the first time.” You admitted.

His heart thumped fast at your confession. “I like you too..” he said softly his hand rubbing your back. “Really?” You asked looking up at him.

“Yes, of course I do” he said with a smile. Your eyes went wide and a small blush creeped across your face. “So uhm- would you maybe wanna go on a date?” He choked out. You nodded happily kissing his nose.

And that was it, that’s how you two started now going on almost a year the boys still tease him about everything. Little do they know how well he fucks.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat

[starsinthesky5]

nothing's gonna hurt you baby || joe burrow x reader

description: the first game of the season doesn't go as planned and it kills you to see joe like this. you can't help but feel deja vu...

a/n: ahem, is this thing on 🎤🎤.  i'm backkkkk… after a much-needed tiny break (not planned just life getting in the way). this is a little something i cooked up! still working on "taste" which is a slow work in progress but that's the main next fic that'll be coming soon!

as always, thanks for reading & showing love :)))) i hope this wasn’t too much yapping and nonsense lol. the smut isnt my best because i wrote it while i was half asleep but i hope you enjoy it. there’s also plenty of song references throughout the fic (biggest one and the inspiration being this CAS song)

warnings: angst, fluff, smut. that's literally the whole fic :)

word count: 12.2 k

---------------------------------------------------------

You leaned back against the wall across from the entrance to the locker rooms, anxiously picking at a thumbnail on your finger as you waited for your boyfriend to come out so you two could go home. You were standing in your orange halter crop top with a little '9' embroidered on the bottom left side and matching white jean shorts with the same '9' embroidered in orange on the back right pocket. The '9' on your shorts was a little bigger than the one on your top which Joe loved because according to him ‘everyone knows who your ass belongs to’. His adorable possessive nature was always something you admired and appreciated. He was very secure in your relationship and knew nobody would take you from him, but that didn't stop him from ensuring everyone knew you were his at any chance he got. 

You were also wearing orange stiletto knee-high boots which adds to the overall orange vibe of your game-day outfit. The theme was 'open in orange' so you were wearing as much orange as you could possibly make look cute. Your '9' necklace was the only piece of jewelry you had around your neck, and your wrists were decked out with bracelets given to you by Joe–each one even more polished and expensive than the previous one, and various rings on your fingers. Your favorite one, the beautiful promise ring Joe gave you for your 2nd anniversary, shined brighter than any of the jewelry you had on. It was a ‘secret garden’ inspired ring, one of your favorite books of all time. 

There was a growing pit in your stomach as you stood there gazing at the large ‘B’ on the wall outside the locker room, a slow-burning sensation that started about two minutes into the game, and it was only getting bigger as the minutes passed by. By the end of the game, you were the most on edge you had ever been in your entire life. 

Since this was Joe's first real game back after his wrist injury, your anxiety was already pretty bad by the time you got to the stadium. Your brain was swarmed with 'what-if?' scenarios and it was eating you alive. Joe, however, seemed the exact opposite of you. He was completely calm, normal, and focused like this was any other game. His peaceful temperament wasn't surprising since he had always been like this before every game but it also should've been expected since he worked through most of his emotions with you the night before and didn’t have anything left to get out. You on the other hand did a complete 360; you were so calm with him last night but right now you were on the verge of ripping your eyelashes out. 

Flashback to the night before

You reached over to grab your glass of water, taking a big sip to help wash down the spicy chicken you were eating for dinner. You looked up at Joe as you were swallowing your water, noting how he was playing around with his food on his unusually full plate. You had been eating for almost 15 minutes and by now, his plate should be empty given how much of an animal he was once dinner rolled around. 

“Not hungry?” you broke the unusual silence and asked. 

Joe's eyes glanced up to meet yours, his cheeks burning because you took note of his behavior, which you weren't supposed to. “Uhh, not really,”  he sighed as he placed his fork down and leaned back in his chair, his sweaty hands sliding up and down his thighs out of nervousness. 

“You do know you have a game tomorrow, right?” you chuckled as you placed your fork down and leaned back in your chair like he was. “You need all the protein you can get,”.

“...Y- yeah, I know,” Joe mumbled after a few seconds of uneasy silence. 

You instantly noticed the change in his body language at the mention of the game; the way his eyes fell down to his lap after his mumbling response, the way he started bouncing his left leg, his shoulders tensing up a little bit, the way he was constantly doing something with his hands as if he was uncomfortable, the way he was chewing at his bottom lip. These were all things Joe did when he was feeling anxious. 

But why was he anxious?

“Hey, you okay?” you asked while leaning forward again, his body language making you worry.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he swallowed, still not meeting your eyes. He knew all it took was for you to get one look at his eyes to figure out he was lying and he really didn't want to burden you with his complicated emotions tonight. 

“He’s lying,” you thought to yourself. The fact that he was avoiding eye contact with you was a dead giveaway. “Joe?” you said while lowering your head to get into his view. 

“Yeah?” he said, his voice slightly trembling as he finally looked into your eyes. 

“Why are you lying to me?” you said as your face dropped at the sight of his tired eyes and shaky voice. 

“I’m not ly-,” he began to say before you interrupted him.

“Yeah, you are,” you interrupted. “I know you, remember. I know you better than you know yourself,” you softly laughed. 

You weren’t wrong there, you did know Joe better than he knew himself and he was the first one to admit it. You knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly how to put his feelings into words even when he couldn’t do so himself, and exactly how to handle him. There was a reason why you were the only person he let into the bubble that he had around himself once football started back up. You were his shelter in the hurricane that became his life once he was back on the field and without you, Joe would be a mess. 

Your response earned no reaction from Joe, he just sat there in silence and continued to bounce his leg up and down as he started to play with the wristbands on his wrist, yet another anxiety-related mannerism. 

You let out a tired breath, “I’m not doing this, I can’t have him shut me out again,” you thought to yourself before scooting your chair back, walking around the dining table, and sitting down on the seat next to him. You turned your chair to face him and grabbed his hands, feeling the thin layer of sweat that coated his palms which made your heart hurt. 

“Joe, it’s just us right now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, talk to me,” you said while giving his hands a soft squeeze. You were feeling deja vu right now, you found yourself in the same situation you found yourself in many times over the early months of the off-season, only then it was 10 times worse than it was right now. 

Joe looked into your eyes, his body feeling heavy as self-doubt, anxiety, and fear crept into his mind. He was nervous about tomorrow’s game. Joe had never been nervous about a game like this and you were sitting in front of him, trying to get him to talk which you shouldn’t need to ‘try’ to do, he should be openly talking to you right now about his feelings. He always let you into the bubble, so why was it so hard for him to do it right now?

He realized that he was shutting down again, just like he had when he first got injured back in November. He didn’t want to go back to that dark place again, especially since coming out of it was a struggle that affected you both very badly. “I’m scared,” he choked out a few seconds later, trying his best to push through the wall he was unknowingly building again.

“Why?” you quietly asked as you felt your heart shatter because of the tone of his voice. You hated seeing him like this, it broke your heart to see him like this. You moved your hand up to cup his neck, the pads of your fingers were softly rubbing his tan skin which was a gentle action that you knew would calm him down. 

“It’s my first game back from injury. An injury that could’ve easily ended my career. It should’ve ended my career,” he said while lifting his hand to wipe a stray tear from his eye.

“But it didn’t,” you smiled. “It didn’t end your career then and it won’t end your career now,”.

“How do you know that? I haven’t played in a real game since November. I haven’t gotten hit yet, I haven’t gotten sacked yet, and I haven’t been putting that much pressure on my hand. Tomorrow could easily be the last game of my career. Just one wrong move and-,”.

“No.” you interrupted. “You’re not doing that. Not on my watch,” you sternly said, trying to prevent him from getting too far inside his head about everything. Overthinking was his worst enemy.

“I’m being realistic, Y/N. Who knows if I’ll be the same Joe I was before,” he said while blinking away a few tears. 

“You don’t need to be the same Joe you were before,” you soothed while continuing to rub his neck. “What you went through was unlike anything anyone has seen before, if people are expecting you to get right back to where you left off then they have no heart or brains. You’ll get to where you need to be, I promise. Things like this take time,” you added. “The Joe you are now is more than enough. You have grown in many ways that you might not have been able to unless you went through what you went through after November. You’ve worked on yourself and become more open, honest, and loose. You’ve put in the work on the field, in the weight room, in training, and even at home. You’re coming out of this a better person and a better player. A better Joe,”. 

“I just don’t want to let anyone down. What if we lose tomorrow? With the slow start narrative getting louder and the aftermath of my wrist injury, this could be really fucked. This year is so important and I just don’t want to let anyone down; the organization, the team, the public, you,” he continued, his grip on your other hand becoming tighter. “I know I have a chip on my shoulder and have a lot to prove this year, but the thought of people not seeing that is killing me,”.

“You won’t let anyone down, Joe. And you could never ever fucking let me down, never say that again,” you said as you continued to rub his neck, seeing that he was getting more loose from your touch. “You’ve worked so so hard the past 10 months to get back to where you want to be and everyone and I mean everyone has seen that. I’ve seen that. Adversity always makes you better, it ignites that fire inside of you. That fire makes you who you are,” you said to him, feeling a little more comfortable yourself after seeing his body relax a bit. “Remember who you are. You’re Joe Burrow. Heisman winner, College Football National Champion, the first overall draft pick, one of the Top 5 quarterbacks in the league, one of the highest-paid quarterbacks, Ohio’s golden boy. You’re all of those things for a reason, Joe. You have it in you. You don’t need to be afraid or doubt yourself because you did all of those things, nobody else, just you,”. 

You moved your hand over and wiped the tears that slowly were sliding down his cheeks before feeling Joe grab your hand and press a wet kiss to your palm. “I love you,” he sniffled. “I genuinely don’t know what I would do without you,”.

“I love you too,” you smiled before you leaned up to kiss his forehead. “Tomorrow is unpredictable, I will admit. But you control the narrative. You control what happens and what doesn’t happen out there. It’s just you and the football like it always has been. I know you and I know you’re going to kill it,”. 

Joe gave you a small nod as he let your words sit inside of his head; you were right and he knew you were right. He did all of this himself, he single-handedly built his reputation and although there was an immense amount of pressure on him to maintain it, he knew that it was his reputation. He had control over his story, not anyone else. He didn’t need to work at anyone else’s speed except for his own. He knows the narrative that the media has been running with since November, that his career has been hindered by continuous injuries and he’s ’injury prone’. He knows what that title has done to the public's opinion on his career and rank as a player, but they don’t get to define him based on what they think. He is defined by everything he does himself. 

It’s not their story, it’s his. 

He reached out and placed his hand on your waist, gently pulling you from your chair and into his lap. You instantly looped your arms around his neck and pushed his head to the crook of your neck, this warm hug from you was the final thing he needed to fully calm his nerves. “You always know what to say to me,” he mumbled against your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his slightly grown-out frosted tips, his hands softly massaging your plush skin. 

“It’s my job,” you chuckled. “I signed up for this when I met you at that football practice all those years ago and I plan on staying true to what I signed up for as long as I can,” you added before you dropped a kiss on his cheek, your mind calming down once you felt him relax against you.

“You better plan on it. I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he said as he pulled you in tighter. 

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t want to go anywhere,” you giggled in his ear before pressing a kiss to it, then turning back to serious to finish off your little pep-talk. “I’m so proud of you, Joe. More than you’ll ever know. You’re truly the hardest working man I’ve ever met and you continue to amaze me with your dedication and determination every single day. Never think that you’re not good enough and you’re not who everyone thinks you are. You’re Joe Fucking Burrow. Never forget that,”. 

“I won’t,” he sighed contently, finally at peace. “I won’t forget,” he said again before he pulled you closer and closed his eyes, getting lost in your palliative embrace. 

End of flashback 

You were so calm last night and now you were the complete opposite; you couldn’t figure out where and when things went south with your emotions. During the game, your brain was running a mile a minute as you thought of everything that could go wrong: Joe re-aggravating his injury, someone else on the team getting badly injured, and the team not being able to beat the slow start narrative. You were anxious, nervous, and deeply scared once the first quarter of the game started, and your feelings were validated when two minutes into the game Joe got sacked and fumbled the ball. 

You remember your heart stopping once you saw him go down as this was the first time he had been hit since November. 

“No!” you screamed as you shot up from your seat, your hand gripping the necklace around your neck as you looked down on the field and saw a bunch of large behemoths on top of him. “No, No, No,” you panicked as your breaths got shorter, your anxiety getting worse and worse as you saw flashbacks from the Ravens game in November. “Please be okay,” you thought to yourself as you were on the verge of tears. 

Then you remember your heart dropping to your feet once you saw the ball come loose and even though he recovered it, this whole play left a bitter taste in your mouth since it was literally the first few minutes of the game and things were already not going as planned. Luckily, his going down didn’t seem to affect his wrist, but you could only imagine how it affected him mentally. 

You thought that would’ve been the only sack of the game, but once again you were wrong. Each time Joe went down, you felt your heart stop. Each time he ran, your heart stopped again as you got flashbacks from early last year with his calf injury. Each time the camera panned to the sidelines and focused in on him, you felt like crying because you could tell the way the game was going was eating away at him by his facial expressions. 

Every sack, every fumble, every drive that ended without scoring, and every turnover was killing you because the things Joe feared were happening even though you told him they wouldn’t. Seeing him flex his wrist on the sidelines and in between plays was the one thing that really did it for you. You didn’t know if this was just to keep his hand loose because he was feeling some tightness or whether this was because something was actually bothering him, your brain was in panic mode for the rest of the game. 

“I hope he’s okay, that was ugly,” you thought to yourself before you jumped at the sound of the locker room door swinging open and snapping you out of your daze. 

You watched as Joe walked out of the locker room, his eyes exhausted and defeated as he gave you a small ‘reassuring’ smile, however, it wasn’t very reassuring because his eyes gave his true feelings away in an instant. 

You returned his smile with a smile of your own, opening your mouth to ask him if he was okay but before you could he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on your lips. He held it for a few moments as he melted into your touch which was the only relieving feeling he had felt all day before pulling away, entwining your pinkies, and leading you out to the car. 

“That’s not good, he’s never this quiet when I come to meet him after the game,” you thought to yourself. If you didn’t say something first, he almost always did, but he wasn’t saying anything which was concerning. You stayed quiet as he led you out to the garage, your eyes not leaving his weary face for one second. You could tell he wasn’t okay, you could tell he was beating himself up over today’s loss.  

A few moments later, he led you over to the passenger’s side of the car, an unusual move since you always drove the both of you home after a game. “I thought I was driving,” you gently said as you looked up at him. 

“I got it,” he said with no emotion in his voice, dropping your pinky and looking into your eyes with his now cold and emotionless ones. 

“But Joe I-,” you began to say but before you could finish your sentence he turned around and walked to the other side of the car. 

“He definitely heard me,” you thought to yourself as you watched him open the backseat door and roughly throw his bag in, then slammed the door shut with a little more force than usual which startled you. 

You let out a deep breath before opening your door and sliding into the passenger seat, your body stiff and frozen because of the way he was acting. You were scared to say something, scared to do something because you didn’t know what reaction you’d get from him, “He’s not doing this again, right?” you worried. 

10 minutes into the drive home, you started getting agitated. He had yet to say anything to you, not even asking you if you were cold and if he should turn down the AC which he always asked you whenever you were in the car since he knew you got cold easily. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were practically turning white and his eyes were so locked in on the road in front of you that he hadn’t even noticed that you started shivering a little bit. 

“Are you okay?” you finally broke the tension and asked, your bottom lip in between your teeth out of nervousness. Joe rarely ever raised his voice at you or got irritated by you saying something to him, but that didn’t stop you from getting nervous around him whenever he was acting like this. 

You saw his jaw clench for a brief moment, your heart skipping a beat as you braced yourself for a potentially explosive reaction, but then you saw him unclench it. “I’m fine,” he said, once again with no emotion in his voice. 

You gave him a small nod and then a few seconds later asked another question since he wasn’t budging, “How’s your wrist?”.

He let out a sigh, one that you could hear from his nose so it was definitely coming from a tired place, “It’s fine,” he said again, not giving you much to work with. 

“He’s not fine, lying yet again. Maybe I could make him laugh? I need to do something to get him to loosen up” you thought to yourself, your brain scrambling to think of something to make him laugh even if it was for a brief moment. 

“At least you guys scored a touchdown this time,” you smiled a few seconds later. “Even though you didn’t win the game, I’d say it was better than week 1 last year against the browns,”. 

You studied his face carefully after you finished your sentence, searching for any tiny muscle movement that resulted in his lips curling up into a smile, but nothing. “Yeah,” he nodded, once again with no emotion. He then reached over to the center console, turning the knob for the volume up so that the once softly playing music was blasting throughout the car. 

You felt your lip quiver and your eyes started to pool with tears as you continued to look at him, praying that he would look at you for even one brief moment, but he didn’t. “He’s doing it again,” you thought to yourself as you fell back into your seat. “He’s fucking doing it again. Just like he did after he got injured. He’s shutting me out,” you thought as you felt a tear slide down your cheek, your head turning away so that you were looking out the window so if Joe did happen to look over at you, he wouldn’t notice your silent tears. 

Joe did look over at you. He was waiting for you to stop looking at him because he couldn’t look into your eyes right now, not when his brain was all over the place and he could regret the things that potentially came out of his mouth. He looked over at you when he saw you turn your head to the window from the corner of his eyes, his eyes softening when he saw your body shaking. You were cold. He always asks you if you’re cold, and this time he didn’t. 

“I fuck everything up,” he muttered under his breath as he reached over to turn the AC down. 

30 minutes later

After a car ride filled with deafening silence, you made it back home a half hour later and were pouring two glasses of water for you and Joe. He was sitting at the kitchen island behind you scrolling on his phone, still quiet as ever. You grabbed his glass and placed it in front of him, getting a peek at what he was looking at on his phone. 

Media reactions. 

Joe never looked at what the internet was saying about a game after it happened, it was one of his ‘blocking outside noise’ methods, so why was he looking at them? 

“You really shouldn’t be looking at all that bullshit,” you said to him as you took a small sip of your water, the cool liquid feeling like a quiet unraveling of tightness within your body.

Joe was so focused on his phone that he didn’t notice that you were talking to him, the only things that he could hear were the voices of reporters talking about the team’s constant slow starts, his poor performance–saying that he played scared, rusty, and didn’t look like himself and that this team is constantly setting itself up for failure. 

A video came up on his phone, an analyst was talking about his performance in today’s game, “We have to talk about Joe Burrow. He said he was ready, he said he felt great, and he said that this team was ready. But did that Cincinnati Bengals team that played against the Patriots today look ready? Absolutely not. Did the Joe Burrow who stepped out onto that field look ready? Absolutely Not. He looked scared, he didn’t look like himself. The lack of Deep Balls, the lack of throwing down the field. That’s not the Joe Burrow we’ve seen in years past. What’s truly going on in Cincinnati? Is there a deeper issue within that we aren’t seeing?”. 

“They see right through me,” Joe thought to himself, feeling his eyes sting from the hot tears that were threatening to come out. He felt like the room was on fire, and there was invisible smoke. Nobody could really see what he was going through, all they saw was the burning room. 

You felt your heart drop as you heard the reporter talk about Joe’s performance in today’s game, knowing that Joe was probably already criticizing himself and this was going to make it worse. “Joe?” you said a little louder, snapping him out of the dark haze he was stuck in.

“Hm?” he hummed as he looked up at you, noticing your pursed lips and worried eyes. 

“Are you okay?” you asked again, feeling uneasy from the look he had on his face.

“...I said I’m fine,” he replied, his voice a little rougher than earlier. 

You shook your head, “I know you’re not fine. Stop lying to me,” you said with a more rigid tone. 

“I’m not lying to you. I said I’m fine. I don’t think it could be more simpler than that,” he rolled his eyes as he picked up his glass of water, taking a big sip. 

“If you are really ‘fine’,” you say, making air quotes around ‘fine’, “Why are you looking at all that bullshit? You never look at any of that because you say it messes with your head,” you say.

“Because I can?” he scoffs, standing up from the barstool and walking around the island to place his water glass in the sink. 

You take a deep breath, trying not to point out his snappy attitude because you know he isn’t in the right headspace right now. “Joe, seriously. I know you’re not fine but it’s just me. You can talk to me,” you gently say as you walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder but he quickly turns around and walks back over to where he was sitting to grab his phone which made your hand drop from his shoulder. 

“I know you had a shitty game, I know you’re in your head about it, I get it. Trust me I do, but just let me-,” you begin to say as you walk over to him before he interrupts you. 

“Do you though?” he asks. “Do you really get it? Sweet talking and hugs don’t magically make everything better, Y/N,” he says, his voice a little louder. 

“Ouch.” you thought to yourself. “No. Remember, he’s not in the right headspace, Y/N. He’s not trying to be hurtful,”. 

“I’m not saying that,” you say to him. “I know that doesn’t make everything better but talking to someone about your feelings does. You know that. You spent weeks working on that, remember?” referring to the therapy sessions he had this past off-season to work through the emotional and mental effects of his injury and just overall mental health. 

“I know, but I said I’m fine. I don’t need to talk about anything, especially with you,” he said, his words feeling like a punch to your gut. 

“Okay, what the fuck?” you thought to yourself. “What do you mean ‘especially’ with me?” you asked, your tone switching from gentle to slightly angry. 

Joe stays quiet for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the concerned look on your face. He knew what he was saying to you was most likely hurting you and you were coming from a place of worry, but he couldn’t control the things that were leaving his mouth right now. “I’m not doing this with you right now,” he shook his head and turned around, walking over to the stairs.

“Doing what?” you said loudly, following him over to the stairs. “I’m just trying to get you to talk to me but you’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be,”.

“How am I making this a bigger deal?” he grumbles, turning around to look at you. “You’re the one that won’t leave me alone. I’ve said that I’m fine to you like 5 times now,”.

“You’re making this a bigger deal because you’re shutting me out, again,” you say, feeling your cheeks burn with anger, frustration, and sadness. You and Joe hardly fought, and whenever you did, it broke both of you. You felt like absolute shit right now and you couldn’t even imagine how Joe was feeling. 

“No, I’m not. You’re being unbelievable right now,” he rolled his eyes again and started walking up the stairs with you hot on his tail. 

“No, I’m not,” you say, echoing his words. “You are shutting me out just like you did after your wrist injury. What happened to letting me in your bubble? Because right now it feels like I’m being pushed 100 feet from your bubble for no reason,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to hold back your building tears. 

“I’m not shutting you out, Y/N,” he said loudly, his voice even more rougher. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you about how shitty I did today doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out. I just don’t want or feel the need to talk to you about it,”.

“See, you aren’t okay. I knew you weren’t okay. You know you played like shit so you’re clearly not fine,” you huffed as you made it to the top of the stairs.

“Is that all you wanted to hear? That I played like shit? Okay, yeah, I played like absolute shit. You win. Now will you leave me alone?” he said, trying to hold back from shouting at you even though he was dancing on the line that separated shouting from talking loudly. 

“That’s not what I want to hear, Joe. You know that,” you said, your voice cracking once you felt a hot tear slide down your cheek. “I just want you to talk to me about your feelings, especially after our conversation last night. I don’t want you to go through all that again because I know how hard you tried to move past this mentally. You shut me out before and dealt with all of this on your own, and I saw how badly it affected you. I don’t want you to do that again. I can’t see you like that again,” you cried, your body shaking as all of your built-up emotions from the entire day were coming out. 

You wiped your eyes as you followed him down the hallway, both of you walking past your bedroom and heading toward his office. You made it to the door and watched him open it and step inside. You were going to follow him in, but he turned around on the doorstep which blocked you from going inside. “No,” he shook his head.

“But..Joe I-,” you cried harder.

“No. Just please go away,” he said, his jaw clenching again like it was earlier, but this time it stayed clenched. “I can’t deal with you right now,” he said, his words feeling like a stab to your heart now. 

There was nothing behind those eyes now. He had built up that wall again, that wall you tried so hard to prevent from being built because you knew you’d never be able to get over it. The same wall that he had built back in November after his injury. He did it again. After working so hard to be more open and honest about his feelings, thoughts, and emotions, he went straight back to square 1. 

“Joe, please,” you pleaded. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, if you just talk to me,” you cried more forcefully.

Joe stared at you for a few heartbeats, his heart-shattering at the sight of the state he had brought you to. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault; the game and now this argument. Deep down, he knew you were right, but he just couldn’t see it because the wall he had built was too high. 

He was about to open his mouth to say something, trying to listen to you and talk to you about how he was feeling, but he backed down once he saw you start to shake. He saw your distressed face, your red eyes, your trembling lip, your shaking body, and your rapid breathing. He knew this was all his fault. If he unloaded all of his incredibly heavy, intense, and dreadful feelings on you right now, that would be so incredibly selfish of him. 

Joe backed up in the doorway which made you think he was letting you come inside, but just as you were about to come in, he shut the door on your face. 

You stare at the closed door for a few seconds, not processing what just happened. He really wasn’t letting you in. After all that, after everything he went through? After everything you both went through these past 10 months?

“Do you know how scared I was the entire game? Do you know how every time you went down my heart stopped? Do you know that I spent 5 minutes crying in the bathroom during halftime because I saw the look on your face?” you shouted at the door, your sobs getting louder. “I know this is hard for you but I’m here, Joe. I’m always h- here,” you choke out. 

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” Joe shouted through the door, tears sliding down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut because he instantly regretted saying that to you especially with that harshness in his voice that he knew would hurt you. 

You backed up from the door once you heard him shout at you, he never shouted at you, not even when you had arguments worse than this. You looked around the hallway, trying to collect your thoughts but there were none left to collect. You said everything that you could’ve possibly said to get through to him, what more was there left to say?

He wanted you to leave him alone, so you were going to do just that. 

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone,” you whispered to yourself, turning around and walking to your shared bedroom, your sobs echoing throughout the house as you disappeared inside your room. 

On the other side of the office door, Joe was sitting in his office chair, hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he was drowning with regret. He lamented saying those things to you, he doesn’t know what came over him. What was wrong with him? 

“Why did I do that to her? Why the fuck did I do that to…her?” he sniffled. He knows his anxiety and fears are controlling him right now, but there was absolutely no reason for him to take it out on the one person who always is there for him no matter what.  

“I fuck everything up,” he cried as he looked at a photo of the two of you sitting on his desk, a photo his mom took after he got his wrist surgery. 

Flashback to November 27th

“Babe, can we go skydiving?” Joe laughed as he rolled his head against the pillow to look at you. He had just woken up from surgery so he was feeling the effects of the anesthesia, and boy were they funny. The things that were coming out of his mouth were nothing but lighthearted, pure fun. It was good to see him laugh and smile especially since how melancholic his attitude had been since he got injured. 

“Absolutely not,” you said while giving him a serious look. “You are not jumping out of a plane as long as I am on this earth,”. 

“But why not? They have parachutes,” he pouted. “I think it would be sooooo fun,”.

“This is the same man who hates flying. Can you believe it?” Robin laughed as she finished typing up a text to send to family members to let them know the surgery went really well. 

“I know right?” you laughed with her. 

“How long did they say I can’t do stuff with my hand for?” Joe asked you with his adorable wide-eyed stare. 

“I think they said to have it in a sling for at least a month right now until your first follow-up,” you said as you brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“A month?” Joe dramatically gasped, his jaw dropping to the floor.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Sorry baby, you’re not Deadpool and can’t heal within 5 seconds,” you smiled. 

“Wait, does that mean we can’t have sex for a month?” he gasped again.

“Joe!” you shrieked, your cheeks turning red because his mom was right in front of you both.

“Ah, wait. Loophole, duhh. You can just be on top which I know you love,” he winked while using his finger to point at you for emphasis. 

“Oh my god,” you whined as you hid your face in your sweatshirt sleeves, hearing Joe’s mom break out into a fit of laughter. 

“Hey, don’t hide your pretty face from me,” Joe pouted as he used his good hand to lower your hands that were covering your face. “Ahh, there she is. My beautiful, adorable, sexy-as-hell, fiance,” he said after you uncovered your face.

“Fiance?” you raised an eyebrow and asked. “Is this your way of proposing?” you giggled. 

“No. When I actually do, it’ll be way more grander, sexier, and special than this,” he winked. “Like I’m talking maybe on the top of the Empire State Building, maybe in the middle of the football stadium, maybe at the top of the Eiffel Tower, maybe even while we go skydiving type special proposal. But I know I’m marrying you and I like the word fiance better than girlfriend,” he laughed. 

“You’re insane,” you laughed as you dropped your head to his chest, feeling him cup your head with his good hand and drop a kiss on your head. 

“I love you like a lot,” he giggled. “Like a lot a lot,” he giggled again.

“Ohh, I know,” you cheesed. 

“You definitely don’t. I love you more than words can describe,” he smiled, you craned your head up to look into his sweet eyes before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Burrow,”. 

After you pulled away you were about to get up from his hospital bed but his mom spoke up, “Wait, stay like that. I’m going to get a picture,” she smiled.  

“Yesss,” Joe nodded. “I loveeeee pictures, especially with my fiance,”. 

“You are really something,” you giggled as you sat up straight.

You moved your hair back and helped Joe scooch up in the bed before turning your head and pressing a kiss to his cheek, placing your hand under his chin as he had a giant grin on his face. His good hand was wrapped around your waist and was holding you as close as possible to his body. 

You two were so happy. For once this past month, you were laughing, you both were smiling. 

“Are you going to be my protector for the next few months?” Joe giggled. “Not let anything bad happen to me and my wrist?”.

“Oh, 100%. I am your nurse, personal bodyguard, and protector. Nobody is hurting my man on my watch,” you grinned again as you smothered his cheeks with kisses. 

You both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but as long as you were by each other’s side, nothing was going to hurt you. 

End of flashback 

“Nothing’s going to hurt me as long as she’s with me. I can’t keep pushing her away,” Joe whispered to himself as he snapped out of the sweet memory and wiped his tears. 

2 hours later

It had been two hours since your fight with Joe so it had been two hours since you had last seen him. After going into your bedroom earlier, you spent about 10 minutes crying in the bathroom as you tried to change into some comfier clothes. You felt awful about the whole thing. The way you lost your cool a few times, the way he was talking to you, just everything–it was horrible. 

You were currently sitting on the couch, sipping on some water and scrolling through some photos on your phone of the two of you. You let out a small laugh when you came across a silly photo of the two of you at a Hurricane Party you dragged him to at LSU. You remembered he was fully against the idea of going to a party during a hurricane, saying it was ‘batshit crazy’ and a ‘death wish’ but you managed to drag him along with you because you didn’t want him to sit inside and stress about the storm. In the photo, you two were standing on the deck of your friend’s house, the wind blowing so hard against you that Joe’s hat was flying away, and you with the hat you were trying to catch. His hand was tightly gripping onto yours and there were silly, drunk, lovesick smiles on both your faces as you were being soaked from the rain.  

“We’re insane,” you sniffled, realizing how batshit crazy it really was to party during a hurricane. 

As you were looking at other photos, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. You looked over at the bottom of the staircase, seeing Joe coming down in comfy clothes and wet hair which meant he showered and came out of his office at some point. 

“At least he wasn’t in there for the entirety of these two hours looking at stuff from the game,” you thought to yourself. 

Joe met your eyes as he walked into the room, seeing how red and puffy they were which was yet another thing that made him feel like absolute shit. He turned his head away at the same time you turned yours and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a glass from the cabinet. 

He started pouring you a glass of water, adding a few ice cubes because he knew you loved to chew on ice after you cried. At first, he didn’t understand the correlation, but then you explained to him that the ice has this cooling effect that can reduce heat and swelling around the face that happens after crying for a while. 

He grabbed the glass from the counter and slowly walked over to the couch, standing in front of you and holding the glass out. “Here,” he softly said, his voice just as heavy as yours which told you that he was crying too.

You slowly looked up at him, noticing that his eyes were also red and puffy. He definitely was crying too. 

“Thanks,” you quietly say as you take the glass from him, taking a big sip and letting the ice cube float into your mouth. 

“At least he remembered the ice,” you thought to yourself, appreciating the fact that he added them. 

You start to chew on the ice as you see Joe plop down on the couch next to you, your body freezing up because you remember everything he said to you earlier. You knew he was coming from a place of anger and guilt, but it still hurt. Joe noticed you tense up next to him, because of him, and that felt like a knife to his heart.

You both stayed quiet, staring at the random re-run of an episode of Friends that was playing on TV, but your minds weren’t focused on what was happening in the show. They were focused on each other. 

Joe felt his bottom lip start to quiver as his eyes once again pooled with tears, all of his emotions were coming out again. He fucked things up with you so bad tonight that he didn’t even know how to fix it. He hurt you. You were just trying to help him for his own good and he shut down on you. He shut you out. The one and only person that he let into his bubble. The one person he needed in his bubble. 

His brain was already crowded with anxiety and fear regarding football, but this was the worst thing out of everything. He didn’t want to go back to that dark place again, he didn’t want to deal with this on his own.

You heard soft sniffles come from beside you so you looked over, your heart shattering again as you saw Joe on the verge of tears, his eyes so red and his lip trembling like he was trying to hold it together. 

He didn’t need to hold it together, not around you. You knew that. You needed to make sure he knew that. “Come here,” you whispered to him as you put your arm around his shoulder and pulled him into your chest.

Joe immediately snaked his arm around your waist and rested his cheek against your chest, letting his tears fall from his eyes onto your pink tank top. You wriggled your hand into his frosted tip hair, scratching his scalp and pressing kisses to his head as he cried harder into your chest. 

You hated seeing him cry, but you knew he was feeling a lot right now and he needed to get his feelings out and this was the best way for him to do it. “It’s okay,” you soothed as you rubbed his back. “I’m here,”.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m s- so fucking sorry,” he cried harder. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I didn’t mean to say all of that horrible shit to you. You don’t deserve any of that, you were just trying to help,”.  

“I know, baby, I know,” you said, blinking away a few of your own tears. “It’s okay,”,

“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “This is all so fucked up. I fucked everything up,” he sobbed. 

“No, you didn’t,” you said to him as you continued to rub his back. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Joe. Everything’s fine,”.  

“I did. I fucked up in the game and then I fucked up things with you. Nothing’s fine,” he sniffled. 

“Listen, Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby. As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine,” you said to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Like I said earlier, I’m right here. Just talk to me,”.

“...You’re right,” he sniffled, breaking through the mental wall he had built. “You belong in my bubble, I can’t keep you out of it,”.

“So don’t,” you said, pulling him in tighter. 

“I’m scared,” he breathed out a few seconds later. “I feel guilty about everything. This game was supposed to be different. I was supposed to be different. I feel like all of this was my fault because I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was. This was my first game back and I played like absolute shit out there,”.

“Oh, Joe,” you said as your face dropped as well as your heart. 

“I disappointed everyone. Most importantly, I disappointed you. Even after everything you told me last night, I couldn’t do it. Everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong and I didn’t do anything to fix it,” he said as a few more tears fell from his eyes.

“You didn’t disappoint anyone, Joe. Nobody expected you to go out there and play like you had a completely normal year. You went through so much with this injury, obviously things weren’t going to go back to normal in one game,” you gently said. “And you could never disappoint me. I told you, I know you. The public doesn’t know you like I do so they’re going to run with whatever bullshit they want as an explanation for why the game went the way it did. I know why things went the way they did, I’m not disappointed in you at all. I’m proud of you for going out there and doing what you did today,” you said as you pressed another kiss on his forehead and moved your hand back up to his soft hair. 

“I just feel like I had the shinest wheels, you know? There was so much hype and fire around me when I first got drafted, but ever since then, I’ve just disappointed everyone. It feels like the wheels are rusting. I know what everyone’s been saying, and I get it. I would say the same thing if I was in their shoes. It’s been 5 years of nothing but injuries, slow starts, and coming up short. I feel like I’m falling behind everyone, everyone keeps getting better and I feel stuck. Right now, all of my cages are mental and that’s why I’m scared. If I keep doing this, I’m wasting my potential. I’m stuck as the ‘injury prone’ and ‘wasted potential’ quarterback,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice comforting you because it meant he was letting you in.

“I haven’t done what I promised to do when I got drafted, so why should people believe me when I say that I’m built for this? Why should they believe me when I say that this year will be different? And you know what? They don’t believe me, at least not anymore and I saw that today. They see right through me. Even I see right through me,” he said.

“Can you see right through me?” he asked you, looking up into your soft eyes. 

“Yes,” you nodded, his brows furrowing at your response. “Not in that way though,” you added. “I see right through you because I know you. That’s why I knew you weren’t fine the second you walked out of the locker room. Remember, the media, the fans, and the public don’t see through you, they only see the surface level because they don’t know you. They don’t truly know how hard you work, how strong you are, how much passion you really have for this. They’re going to spew whatever bullshit they want because that’s what they do. If they were in your shoes, then they would know why these things happen and the reality of the situation. They can’t see through you, I promise. And as for the not getting better, you’re crazy if you think that. I saw you in practice, your throws have never looked better. You have never looked better, all this muscle and beefiness is a part of getting better. And like I told you yesterday, you control the narrative. You don’t have to be the ‘injury-prone’ quarterback, you can change it. Deep down, you know who you are. Don’t let these trolls and interlopers define you,”. 

Joe nodded as he felt his breaths steady out and his tears start to dry up. “I played scared yesterday, and I don’t know why? I thought I was ready, you know? We weren’t supposed to lose that game,”.

“I know,” you sighed. “But you’ve gone through so much these past 5 years, it’s completely normal to be hesitant and nobody should be blaming you for this. Yesterday’s loss wasn’t just on you. You’re on a team, Joe. They didn’t play perfectly either and the blame shouldn’t only fall on you. You’re a piece to the puzzle, a big piece, but not the only piece. The media always wants to pin everything on one person. One thing that I admire about you is how easily you block out the outside noise, don’t change that. Block it out like you always do,”. 

“This is game 1 out of 17. Don’t let this define you and don’t let the noise get to you,” you said as you used your thumb to rub the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the wet tear trails.

Joe nodded again, taking in all of the words you were saying to him. You were right, about all of it. He was so in his head about everything and so panicked that he couldn’t use logic and sense to think clearly. This was just one bump in the road as you explained. He had 16 more games to play and 16 more opportunities to show everyone what he’s made of. 

“You’re right,” he nodded. “This was one game. I can take this, learn from my mistakes, and get better,”.

“That’s exactly what I like to hear,” you smiled after hearing him work through his complicated feelings. “You’re going to get better. The team is going to get better. If you want to fix the blaring issues, do it with a calm, collected, and cool mind. You’re called ‘Joe Cool’ for a reason. Live up to that name,” you giggled. “Don’t lose your cool, don’t lose your composure over shit like this. I know you feel awful about how things went today, but one bad game doesn’t define a player and doesn’t define the entire season. Things were rough, but you always, no, you will bounce back,”.

“Thank you,” he sniffled against your chest, his brain feeling like it had just been given a nice comfy king-sized bed and cloud-like blanket to sleep in for the night. You were the only person that could make him turn his brain off and he couldn’t thank you enough. “I think I just got panicked after seeing everyone’s reactions and seeing how things looked out on the field plus everything I was feeling yesterday made it worse,”.

“Of course,” you smiled as you gave his head another kiss before holding him tighter against you. “And I get it. Sometimes it feels like the walls are caving in but that’s why it’s always important to talk to someone when you feel that way. Bottling up those feelings only makes it worse,”.  

“You're 100% right, Y/N. I’m sorry about earlier,” he said while looking up into your eyes again. “That was so fucking uncalled for. And I’m sorry for raising my voice, I was a dick to you the entire night,”. 

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You were a dick, I agree,” you began to say, earning a laugh from Joe which made your heart smile, “But you’re my dick and I know how to handle you,” you smiled, then quickly furrowed your brows. 

“Wait, that doesn’t sound right at all,” you slapped your hand against your mouth after realizing what that sounded like, another laugh coming from Joe’s mouth. 

“I know what you mean,” he smiled. “But seriously, everything I said was straight bullshit. You mean the world to me and without you, I really think I would end up in an insane asylum. You’re the single most important thing in my life and I appreciate everything you do for me. Don’t ever leave me alone if I ask you to. Like please, I can’t live without you. Chain yourself to my wrist if you need to,”.

“Noted,” you smiled. “Just don’t freak out on me like that again, okay? You worked so hard this past year to get out of that zone, break free from that dark cloud, and I don’t want to see you back there,”. 

“I promise I won’t go back there and if I ever feel like I am, you’ll be the first person I come to. I’m never going to keep you out of the bubble again,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your chest. “I love you,” he said with another kiss to your chest.

“I love you too,” you smiled down at him. “I love you like a lot a lot,” you giggled, echoing what he said to you after his wrist surgery. 

“You know, sweet talking and hugs do make everything better,” he laughed as he looked up at you with his child-like smile you loved to see. 

“Oh, I know,” you winked. “But you still feel pretty stiff right now. Are you sure you’re 100% okay?”. 

“I think it’s just all the tension that I didn’t get to release out on the field. And I guess everything that happened after made it worse,” he grimaced. 

“Ah, that makes sense,” you nod, trying to think of a way to help him get his tension out because you knew if he didn’t, he’d be whiny all night about it. “How about some hot, post-loss sex to make you feel better?” you wiggled your eyebrows and asked. 

Joe’s eyes jumped up to meet yours as he was a bit taken aback by your straightforwardness. “For real?” he asked as he got up from your chest. 

“Mhm, the perfect way to get the tension and aggression out,” you said while licking your lips and giving him a sultry smile. 

“I love you, so fucking much,” he growled in your ears before shooting up from the couch, snaking his arms under you, lifting you up, and leading you up to the bedroom bridal style.

“At least the wrist seems to be just fine,” you giggled as he quickly ran up the stairs with you. 

Not even 5 minutes later, you two were mostly naked, on the bed, and attached to each other’s lips as if you had never kissed each other before. His lips moved against yours hungrily, signaling that he was feeling that way tonight and that you should brace yourself for what was to come.

You felt him pull away from your lips and start pressing wet, sloppy kisses down your body. “I thought we were getting right to it?” you asked him as you felt his gentle lips on your belly. 

“Mmm, I gotta make it up to you first, then we can get to it,” he smiled up at you. 

“But I said I-,”.

“Nope. I have to make you feel good first, you deserve it,” he winked before he continued to kiss down your body. You felt him attach his lips to the skin of your inner thigh, rhythmically sucking and biting which would surely leave a mark while his hands crept up to the waistband of your lace panties. He then moved his lips to press a kiss to your clothed core before pulling your underwear down, tossing it to the side, and then flashing you a devilish grin since he saw how you were squirming around on the bed because of the undeniable ache between your thighs. 

The next few minutes passed by like a blur and the next thing you knew, Joe’s head was buried deep in between your thighs and your back was arching off the bed. “Joe,” you moaned as you felt him push you back down, the expert swirl of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. “J- Joe,” you whispered, your head falling to the side as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Joe couldn’t help but smile into you as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the beautiful sounds coming from your mouth making his heart happy but also, his dick.

“Mmm, fuck..,” you whimpered as you gripped the silk sheets, tossing your leg over his shoulder and lightly gliding your foot along his muscular back. The sudden touch made Joe groan into your core which sent vibrations throughout your body, your heated touch feeling like fire against his cold frame.  

He continued to lap at your drenched folds, all while his hands were tightly gripping your hips and massaging your plush skin. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you whispered with another loud moan following after as you felt his perfect ski-slope nose rubbing against your aching clit.

You placed a hand into his hair, softly pulling on the strands as you pushed him closer to your core and yet another moan came from your mouth. Joe lifted his head out from in between your thighs and looked up at you, “You’re extra vocal tonight,” he smirked, his lips and chin coated with your wetness. 

“Shut up,” you whined before you pushed his head back down, a smile appearing on your lips when you felt him attach his lips to your bundle of nerves and flick your clit with his warm tongue. You felt yourself fading away, getting lost in the sensual supernova that was happening down below.

“...Oh my god,” you whined a few seconds later, feeling him thrust a finger into your core which pushed you closer to your orgasm even faster than before. “Don’t stop,” you said while pulling on his hair, your leg lightly wrapping around the back of his neck. 

You felt him move his other hand down, his thumb resting on your clit as he rubbed slow circles around the bundle of nerves–this movement made you see stars. The combination of his thumb rubbing your clit, his finger thrusting in and out of your slick core, and his mouth going unhinged was making the imaginary band in your stomach tighten harder than it ever had before. 

“I’m close,” you whimpered, your hips gently bucking at the jolt of pleasure moving through your body. “I’m..s- so…c- close,” you whimpered, this time a little louder because his thumb started moving faster around your clit. You then feel him add another finger into your core, your hips grinding against the bed as you search for any form of relief, but the only thing that could relieve you was taking his sweet time. 

“Baby, please,” you begged, your eyes fluttering shut as your back arched off the bed again, his fingers rapidly thrusting in and out of your core while you felt a more extreme feeling begging to be released from inside of you. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, the feeling about to break through in just a few seconds.

Joe curled his fingers inside of your core and moved his mouth back up to your clit, roughly attaching his mouth to the bud and sucking you in a way that he knew drove you crazy. And then just a few seconds later you dropped back down to the bed as you felt yourself tip over the edge, his name falling from your lips like some seductive chant while you came undone. “Joe!” you screamed, tightly closing your eyes and feeling your entire body shake with the force of your orgasm. 

Joe looked up through his eyelashes, watching you restlessly move around and hearing breathy moans leaving your beautiful mouth as he lapped at the juices of your intense–still going–orgasm. He was slowly getting more and more worked up as he watched you come apart, knowing he was the only man who had ever seen you this vulnerable and raw and was the only man who was going to see this. 

A minute later you open your eyes, your chest heaving as you recover from the intense high that washed over you, “Holy fuck,” you panted as you saw Joe smiling at you, his lips and chin completely covered in your release, his face showing that he somehow enjoyed this just as much as you did. 

“Did I just-,” you asked, feeling the soaked sheets below you, as you caught your breath. Your eyebrows shoot up in amusement as you watch Joe wipe his chin with his fingers before using his tongue to lick them clean. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “You did,”. 

“Oh my god,” you said, hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment. 

Joe let out a throaty laugh before kneeling on the bed again and hovering over you, then moving your hands off of your face, “Why are you hiding,” he smiled.

“Because I just…,” you said while biting your lip, his bedroom eyes making you want to pounce on him right that second even though you also wanted to run and hide for some reason.

“What?” he said while trying to hold back his cocky smile. “Squirted?” he asked while moving your hair out of your face.

“You don’t have to say it like that…,” you said while hiding your face again. 

After all this time, you still felt shy around him. He’d seen your most embarrassing moments, your best and your worst. He’d seen it all. The fact that you felt embarrassed about this little thing was adorable and another reminder that you were the most precious girl he had ever met. 

“Don’t feel embarrassed, babe. It’s not the first time and it’s definitely not the last time,” he softly said while leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I think it was super hot and super sexy,”. 

“Really?” you asked while peeking out at him through your fingers.

“Mhmmm. Besides, I’ve seen way worse than this. Can’t forget the time I walked in on you fingering yourself while I was away at practice,” he grinned from ear to ear, as if he was proud that he made you so worked up even when he was away from you.

“Joseph Lee,” you screamed while playfully slapping his bare chest.

“Hey, it was a great show,” he shrugged. “I can still remember the sounds,” he said while clearing his throat. “Oooh, Joe. Ohhh Joe, fuck. Joe, ah… Joey!” he moaned as he mimicked you, all while laughing because he couldn’t be serious about it. 

“You know, I don’t have to offer an outlet for you to release your tension,” you shrugged as you started to get up from the bed but felt yourself being caged in by your large boyfriend. 

“Ahem, I don’t think that’s how this works, baby,” he shook his head. “Once you put something on the table, you can’t take it off,”.

“Oh yeah?” you teased. “What if I do?”.

“You don’t wanna know,” he whispered in your ear before slamming his thick cock into your dripping entrance with no warning. 

“Joe,” you gasped, the sudden feeling of him stretching you out and filling you up so extreme and lively. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned as he threw his head back, his cock moving at an instantaneous pace. “That’s it…,” he said again but a little quieter while he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, the feeling of your warm walls wrapping around him so intense and special. 

“Joe, fuck,” you whimpered as you felt his cock repeatedly slam into your cervix, his body moving against yours recklessly and roughly. His thrusts quickened as he moved deeper and deeper inside you, the sounds of your breathy moans getting louder with each snap of his skilled hips. He sported a euphoric look on his once-tired face, a sign that he felt relaxed and it was all to your credit. 

The next few minutes were hot, steamy, and messy as he whispered filthy praise into your ear which matched the pure vulgarity that was happening between you two on the bed right now. His hard thrusts made it difficult for you to hold it together, your nails clawing at his tan back as you bit down on his shoulder and got lost under his touch. “You’re so good to me,” he moaned in your ear, his hand moving up and wrapping around your throat. 

“Joe,” you struggled to moan, feeling his grip around your throat becoming a little tighter as the pleasure inside of you was rapidly building.

“Ah, fuck,” he panted as he picked his head up and cupped the back of your leg, and lifted it over his shoulder; this new position opened you up even more and made it easier for him to hit all the right spots inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered, the sight of his lip in between his teeth and his thick body moving against you making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“I’m close,” you moaned as you looked down, moaning again at the sight of his shaft rapidly moving in and out of your slick heat.

“Fuck, me…too,” he groaned, his pace getting rougher and rougher as sounds of your skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room. “I love you,” he moaned loudly once he felt his cock start to twitch inside of you. 

“Joe, fuck…please, I need to come,” you whined, his grip on your leg getting tighter. 

“I know baby, I know,” he whimpered, “I’m almost there,” he added as he dropped your leg and moved his hand to the headboard, gripping it tightly as he used it as leverage to slam into you even harder. All the tension, all the aggression, it was all coming out in the most fruitful way possible. He was getting away from himself, and it was all thanks to you. 

“Ah, fuck,” you screamed, feeling yourself on the brink of pleasure, stars filling your eyes as his pace remained rough and hard. 

A few seconds later, you felt him shoot endless ropes of cum into your wet heat which were accompanied by another loud moan from him. “Fuck. Oh fuck,” he panted as he slowed his thrusts into you, making sure that his release stayed inside of you and that you reached your high.

“Joe, please,” you pleaded, needing to feel your high right this second. 

“I’ve got you,” he said while giving you a lazy smile, his hand moving down to your clit and rubbing rapid circles around the sensitive bud as he slowed his thrusts even more.  A few seconds later, you clamped down on his cock, arched your body up into him, and felt yourself let go for the second time tonight. “Oh my god,” you moaned before you felt him press gentle kisses all along your neck and eventually your face, your lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as your highs washed over you. 

A few minutes later, you were both lying against the messy sheets, your head tucked into his chest as he played with your hair and once again apologized to you for how he acted earlier tonight. 

“Joe, I promise, It’s okay,” you giggled. “You’ve made it up to me in more ways than one. The fact that I can’t walk right now is an apology enough,”. 

“Okay, I’ll stop now,” he smiled. “Thank you for everything though. This and for everything you said earlier,”. 

“No need to thank me, baby. I told you, this is my job. We’re in this together and I promise that nothing’s going to hurt you as long as you’re with me. Like I said to you back in November, I’m your protector,” you grinned. 

“That you are,” he laughed, his body feeling loose and light under you for the first time all day. 

“Thank god he feels better," you smiled to yourself. Joe was the most important thing in your life, having him relaxed, focused, and calm was all you wanted. He deserved all the happiness, success, and love in the world and you needed to make sure he knew that. Moments like this were going to happen all throughout his career, but they were controllable and you were a big reason as to why they were. He wasn't kidding when he said he needed you inside his bubble or he'd end up in the insane asylum. You were his safe haven, his place of tranquility, his calm in the storm.

“I love you more than anything, Joe. Everything's going to be alright, I promise,” you smiled up at him, then leaned in for another kiss before you felt him pull the sheets over you both. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” he smiled as he nuzzled his nose against yours and leaned in for another kiss. 

–The End–

part 2 is on the masterlist!

[rueclfer]

smau request- maaaybe tomura trying to convince reader to wake up and hang with him super late bc he’s def a night owl & they end up staying up until sunrise; flirtation & heavy petting etc as we love to see it

i wrote this at 2am my brain is fried but waow loser/slightly more confident shiggy ily+ enjoy this mix of written and smau <3

twilight zone // tomura shigaraki

"oh my fucking god, knock much?" tomura exclaims, spinning around towards you in his swivel chair.

"shut up." you yawn, rubbing your eyes away from the bright PC screen illuminating the room. "like you weren't expecting me or something."

from his desk, tomura watches you click the door behind you and crawl into his bed. you pull the comforter up to your chin and nestle into his mattress as if he was the one that intruded on you in his own bedroom.

"wasn't half-sure if you were even going to come." he murmurs before shutting down his PC, diminishing the only light source in the room.

you feel the bed shift beside you as he stiffly lays down. "might as well light some candles too while you're at it." you tease.

despite how groggy you sounded, tomura could hear you signature smirk in your voice- the one that never failed to irritate the fuck out of him. he hadn't thought this far ahead- wasn't even expecting you to respond to him this late at all. all he could think about was how quick his late-night confidence was dwindling into nothing, making him squirm a bit in his own bed.

"i'd prefer to not have to look at your face." he mutters.

owch.

you don't respond. the exhaustion was ready to take over once your head hit the pillow. you think about the last time you had been in his bed like this.

it was about a month ago when you found yourself too drunk to even form a cohesive sentence. he didn't understand what you were blabbering about, but once he saw your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, and handle of whiskey under your arm, he just assumed the worst.

you were drunk, touch starved, and desperate, but of course he knew better than to let you sloppily smash your lips into his like you intended two when you stumbled into his doorway. he spent that night half asleep in his gaming chair, periodically reaching over to make sure you were still breathing with his trash can pulled up next to your side of the bed.

once you sobered up the next day, he scolded you. relentlessly. strings of obscenities dripping from his mouth.

from that point on, he made sure to always find a way to keep you two at bay- something that he himself wasn't even sure how to go about. elbow nudges. kicking your feet under the dining room table. laying your legs over his lap on the couch without you asking. pats on shoulder. all to make sure that night never repeated- unsure if he could handle you throwing yourself all over him again.

"are you fucking falling asleep?" you feel a jolt on your shoulder as he shakes you awake. "wake up."

"i'm tired." you whine.

"well stop. i didn't invite you here to sleep in my bed." he huffs.

"the fucks got you up, then?"

"nothing."

you go silent for a moment.

"don't be annoying or else i'll leave." you deadpan.

"don't ask stupid questions then." he returns the attitude. "isn't it obvious? i can't sleep. can't even game right now. i just want to..." he voice falters at the end.

"...hang out with you, i guess."

oh.

your jaw slightly gapes open in surprise, spikes of heat crawling up your neck.

you tightly grip the fabric of the comforter. "well, when you say it like that, it sounds like you actually like me." you chuckle.

"didn't say that. we live together. bothering you is my only option."

"lucky you, i love when you bother me." you scoot closer, noses onto a few inches away from one another. "and even more when i bother you."

"yeah, i know. it's like you can't resist me or something." he pulls the comforter up over his mouth, shyly muffling his words.

"i should be thanking you then, right? thank you so much, tomu, for letting me lay in your bed with you. please. i want you. i need you. it's all i can think about when i'm just across the hall from you. " you roll your eyes.

he scoffs. "wouldn't be the first time you were pathetically begging for me either."

"as if." you spit. "i'd never."

"but you have."

a beat of silence passes. you press your lips together as hotness comes over your body while the events of that night surges back to you.

"you said you'd never bring that up again." you clench your teeth, cringing at the memory of tomura retelling that night's endeavors to you the morning after.

"needed to humble you a bit." he chuckles. "told you it's not a big deal though if you're still embarrassed about it."

"no shit, i'm still embarrassed." you tug the covers up to your nose. "i tried getting at you and you rejected me. i'll never live that down, tomu."

tomura goes quiet for a moment. he must've been thinking. he does that often- retreat back into his head when he isn't sure about what else to say. or maybe he had finally fallen asleep.

you glanced over his shoulder to the analog clock sitting on his desk.

4:27AM.

it was late- or early. maybe these past few sleepless nights had finally caught up to him, hopefully to save you from having to relive an embarrassing moment.

to him, tomura's brain was malfunctioning. crashing. blue screen error.

"uh. wait." he begins, breaking the silence. "reject' isn't the right word. you were drunk. i just did what anyone else would have."

"call it what you want. i just wanted a smooch and you weren't with it. it's whatever, i'm over it, you heartbreaker." you dramatically sigh.

"well, i'll give you one now if it'll get you to shut up."

it was your turn to error and crash now.

"really?" your eyes widen.

tomura's breathing stops. he wasn't sure what gave him the confidence to say that outloud. maybe it was because he couldn't clearly see your face. it was almost like you weren't there- like he was speaking out into the void that made it so easy for those words to slip out.

he didn't mean it. right?

"yeah."

fuck.

"-if you want though." he quips.

please shut the fuck up.

"last month wasn't a rejection. i just didn't want you to only want me when you're drunk, you know."

stop talking.

"but you're sober now and we're talking about it and i just-"

your lips crash into his. it catches you off guard as much as it does to him. despite how much you enjoyed listening to him ramble out his nervousness, you couldn't risk losing another opportunity to kiss him.

your hands crawl up to the side of his neck, rubbing the tender skin below his jaw as you draw him closer to you. the floodgates have opened now. tomura met your lips with the same eagerness.

you were pressed up against one another, legs intertwined, sharing a breath and heartbeats as your hands glided over each other's bodies.

your stomach was twisting with anxiety. how long had you been waiting for this moment? all of those shy glances around the apartment, subtle touches, and hidden affections had clearly not gone unnoticed.

his hand runs from the nape of your neck to your lower back where he slips his hand under your shirt, causing you to pull away in surprise from the sudden contact.

"your hands are freezing, tomu." you gasped. "what the fuck?"

"sorry." he sheepishly mutters against your lips. he keeps his hand against the soft skin of your back, lightly rubbing the area as an apologetic gesture as it warms against your body.

"sorry." you repeat, humiliation starting to creep up your neck as you two settle with the realization of what line you two had just crossed.

a beat of silence passes.

"um. so." he coughs.

"so...yeah." you respond.

it wasn't long before you two started giggling to one another like a couple of children.

"shut up." you laugh, hiding your face into the pillow.

"guess i did say you coukd have anything you want if you came over." he breathlessly chuckles.

"please. shut. up." you squeak out. "i'm going to sleep. it's already like..." you peer over his shoulder. "almost 5:00AM, tomu. good fucking night."

you turn around, letting your back face him. you could die right now. melt into this mattress and into nothing. thank god it was dark and thank god he shared this humiliation with you.

he slings his arm around your waist, bringing himself flushed against your back.

"i'm not tired." he mumbles into the back of your neck, peppering kisses into the soft skin. "stay up with me."

you mentally kick yourself. because you do- not that there was much left of the night to get through, anyways, but because when the night's haze dissipates, you'll be dealt with a bigger issue that you wouldn't be able to pass off as a drunken mistake.

[bunny-1111]

I love love love your writing! I was just re-reading “Theodore Nott who…” and possibly wondered if you could expand on how he reminds reader that he will propose when they are finished school. Kicking my legs giggling thinking about that 😂

Aww, thank you. Of course, I can. Let me know if you have any other requests!! PS I wrote a whole thing, ready to push post now. It was perfect, but something happened, and it didn't save, so I had to rewrite it the best I could, I hope you enjoy this anyway AH I'M SO MAD 🥲,

...

Theodore, at age 11, thought you were the prettiest girl in school

Theodore, at age 13, began to navigate his not-so-small crush on you

Theodore, at age 16, felt his heart in his stomach as he swallowed his pride and finally asked you out

That is where our story starts.

By 17, you got comfortable enough and started spending the night in each other's dorms; one random Tuesday morning, Theo woke up earlier than usual, you were still fast asleep. Theodore was a very productive person. If he woke up early, he would get up, make a coffee, go for a run around the grounds, come back, and shower, all before most had even opened their eyes. As he reached for the corner of his side of the blanket and moved to start his day, you felt him, causing you to stir, your brows quickly scrunching, your body automatically moving towards him; you reached for him even in sleep. Something in his mind slowed, something in his heart raced, something in his soul shook. Dropping the blanket in his hand, he surrendered to you, laying so close, gently caressing your face, feeling peace in your dream state. Then it dawned on him, if I married her, this would be the last face I would see before I slept and the first I would see when I woke up.

That's when it began.

His constant reminders of marriage.

That very morning.

When your eyes fluttered open, Theos wide eyes already met yours, it would've scared you in his eyes weren't so dreamy.

"Good morn-" you start

"Marry me" he interrupted

"What?!" you laughed out. It was too early for this

"Marry me?" he smiled

"shut up" you laughed, reaching your hand under your pillow, softly throwing it at him

"Come on, why not?" he pleaded

"Theodore, we're still in high school, that's why", you smile

"Fine, you fucking time waster, but after we get out of here, I'm gonna marry you", he insisted

You thought it was a passing thought.

Something he wouldn't bring up again.

Boy, were you wrong, he proved that time and time again over the next two years.

Sitting in class, he would peck a kiss on your cheek from behind you. "Kisses for the Mrs" he would whisper with a smile before returning to his own seat

In the great hall, he slapped Matteo's hand away as you and he both reached for the same dish. "Can't you see my fiance wants that slice?" he grits, serving you before Matteo puts it on his own plate. "You aren't fucking engaged?" A defeated Matteo retorts, arms out in confusion. "Don't start", you apologise on behalf of you and your pretend husband

In Hogsmeade, you and Pansy tried on dresses. Theodore was walking past when he saw you in the mirror. Letting himself in, he slithered behind you, his reflection joining yours in the mirror, slipping a hand down your waist. "You know, if you look this good in this dress, I can only imagine how good you'd look in white," he'd smirk, "you know when we get married," he muttered on his way to the register, leaving money, giving the workers strict instructions to charge him for any dress you bought, for them to keep the change too.

When Theodore had early morning Quittich practice, he would leave a steaming cup of coffee or tea on your bedside, accompanied by a note: " To keep you warm while I'm gone, good morning, my better half, Mrs Nott."

When you studied in the libary, you had a very distinct look of focus. He would lay a bored hand on his face, "Come on, let's go for a smoke", he whined, "No, Theodore, We have final exams soon. You should be studying. Go without me if you want" you explain, fingers pointing at text on his book, "not going without you" he said frustrated under his breath. Theodore kept testing, blabbing nonsense, attempting to distract you, staring at you instead of the open books. "Why are we wasting time? You could be pregnant by now," he said, his free hand twirling your hair. This caused you to slam your book closed, looking up at him, your eyes widening. "What!?" he laughed. "If I had it my way, we would've tied the knot last year, and we would have a kid on the way", he continued; you did nothing but shake your head and fight your growing smile.

Walking through the gardens, you pointed at some hydrangeas. "My favourite flowers" you smiled. "I know" he smiled "I'd walk down the aisle with hydrangeas in my hand," you say softly, leaning in to smell the flowers, "When we get married, I will" you say picking some to take with you. Theodore could've fainted on the spot. 'When we get married,' your voice repeated in his mind, pulling you up into a deep kiss

When you finally graduated, Theodore pulled your father aside. If there was something Teddy valued, it was tradition; he was officially asking for your hand.

Returning to you, smiling ear to ear, he suggests you join him on a walk. Reaching the tree near the Black Lake, he kissed your forehead, one hand intertwined with yours, the other hand in his pocket, fidgeting with a small box.

A box containing a ring.

That he had bought on the year prior, now all that was left to do was kneel.

unedited today, sorry for any incorrection I'm too tired to reread or edit rn LOL

in my mind me and teddy r married

him in a suit KILL ME NOW one chance PLS

[7ndipity]

Sweet Morning

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil thing about Yoongi looking after his S/o when they wake up sore after a particularly intense night together.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: slightly suggestive, implied smut, implied drinking, swearing, mentions of bruises, bathing? not proofread

A/N: I’m back! Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I decided to stick with Yoongi for this one, but if you’d like similar blurbs for the other members, let me know! This turned out a lot softer(and longer) than I planned, but I couldn’t help it, I love sweet caregiver Yoongi 🥺(also, I wrote part of this at like 4am, so I’m sorry if it’s eh)

Masterlist

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At first, you thought the late morning sunlight was what woke you, managing to shine through a gap in the curtains directly in your face and pulling you from the cozy cocoon of sleep. The shifting weight of the bed behind you though proved otherwise, a sleepy grin spreading across your face as you felt a familiar pair of arms slip around your middle, a set of warm lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your bare shoulder.

“Morning.” Yoongi rasped, his voice somehow even deeper first thing in the morning.

You hummed contentedly, memories of the night before flickering back through your mind as you stretched.

Yoongi’s lips somehow never leaving yours for more than a moment as you’d fumbled through the front door and to the bedroom, clothes hastily discarded in your wake, tasting the whiskey he’d drank at dinner on his tongue. Falling back on the bed with him, desperation making each touch somehow feel a thousand times more potent, swallowing each other's moans as you rode out wave after wave of pleasure til you were both too exhausted to continue, falling asleep still clinging to one another.

Yoongi’s feather light touches pulled you back to the present, in stark contrast to the night before as his lips drifted up the side of your neck.

"What time is it?" You asked sleepily.

“Late, but I have the day off.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the faint purple mark that was forming just below your ear. “What do you want to do today?”

“I think this is pretty good,” You replied happily, rolling over to face him, but pausing midway as you winced, hissing slightly at the pain in your lower half.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m just a little sore from last night.” You said easily, trying to pull him in to connect your lips, but he pulled back, looking down at you with growing alarm.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, sounding horrified.

“What? No, Baby, I’m fine.” You quickly tried to convince him, but he sat up, gently tugging the blankets away from your body.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

Your skin was littered with hickeys and marks from him, some faint and barely discernible, others blooming in deep shades of red and purple.

He didn’t remember leaving so many marks, but when he was with you, it was like his brain shut off. All he could remember was the taste of your skin and all the sweet noises you made every time he’d dragged his teeth across your flesh.

His frown deepened as his eyes landed on the marks that decorated your hips and thighs, faint imprints of his fingers evidence of his vice-like grip on you from the night before.

He traced a finger over the marks, causing you to wince slightly, shivering from sensitivity. His attention snapped back to your face.

“Fuck.” He repeated, looking at you sadly. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Yoongi, I’m okay, really.” You tried to reassure him, trying not to grimace as you sat up, but he just shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” He said.

“I wanted you to be rough.” You reminded him, catching hold of his hands to pull him closer. “Did you once hear me complain last night?”

He shook his head again.

“Exactly, because there was no reason to. Everything about last night was amazing.” You said, caressing his face gently. “You made me feel so good, you always make me feel so good."

He smiled faintly in spite of himself, leaning into you instinctively as you kissed him, his lips dropping back into a frown as he felt you wince again as you tried to press closer to him.

He pulled away, looking at you softly.

“Wait here.” He said, climbing off the bed.

You did as he asked, sinking back into the covers as your eyes drifted closed.

You couldn’t lie, as much as you might have enjoyed the night before, you were beyond tired, your whole body feeling heavy and achy.

You had nearly fallen back to sleep before Yoongi returned, smiling down at your sleepy form for a moment before rousing you gently.

“Come on.” He said, tugging you up from the bed.

He helped you up slowly, wrapping an arm around your waist for support as he guided you to the bathroom, the scent of lavender enveloping you as you stepped through the door.

He’d prepared the bath just the way you liked, even setting a few of your favorite bath bombs out for you to choose from, as well as lighting a few of your favorite candles to further set the mood.

“What’s all this?” You asked, looking at him in surprise.

He didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on helping you slide in, smiling at the way your eyes fell shut as you sank into the warm water.

“Feel alright?” He finally spoke.

“Mmm.” You hummed, looking up at him expectantly. “Aren’t you getting in too?”

“I can, if you want me to.” He said uncertainly.

“I want you to.” You said, shifting forward to give him enough space to sit behind you.

He slipped in quickly, letting you lay back against him as he grabbed a cloth and started to wash you.

Normally, you’d argue a bit with him, just for the hell of it, saying something about how you were perfectly capable of washing yourself, but you let it go this time, enjoying the feeling of his gentle touch.

“Do you feel any better?” He asked after a bit.

“Mhm,” You practically purred. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He replied.

“For what?” You glanced up at him quizzically.

He shrugged. “Letting me have you.”

You grinned.

“You know, you didn’t make it out of last night unscathed either.” You said, poking a mark on his neck, making him wince slightly.

“At least I can still walk though.” He said pointedly.

“I can walk!” You argued.

“Like a penguin.” He smirked.

“Yah!” You splashed him, making him laugh. “I thought you were being nice to me?!”

“I’m just trying to keep things balanced.” He said, kissing your temple. “I can’t spoil you too much.”

You pouted, making him chuckle.

“I love you.” he said, pecking your cheek.

“Love you too.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all.