#IT’S NOT AS ROUGH AS I WANTED I’M SORRY

[goldfades]

who else decodes you? / who's gonna know you, if not me? / and who's gonna hold you like me? / no-fucking-body / so tell me, who else is gonna know me? | joe burrow⁹ (part one)

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had been inseparable since LSU, with him promising you everything—a dream home and a life together. everything felt perfect during your golden days, but as time passed, things shifted, and the cracks began to show in your once-perfect relationship

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst... just straight up angst. asshole-y joe, lots of fighting, reader being a trophy wife, just real sad things im sorry i wrote this yall. NO happy ending in this part, part 2 will have a happy ending dw guys!!!

You met Joe Burrow before the world did.

Before the Heisman, before the draft, before his name carried weight outside of Athens, Ohio. Before the sleek suits, the Cartier glasses, the endless debates about whether he was the next great quarterback of his generation. Before all of that, he was just Joe. Your Joe.

The one who texted you goodnight from his twin bed in his childhood home, the one who took you to McDonald’s after late-night practices because that’s all he could afford. The one who kissed you in the front seat of his beat-up truck, hands a little rough from lifting weights but gentle when they held your face.

You were there for it all.

Through the transfer to LSU, when he was just a backup with something to prove. Through the championship season, where he turned into a legend overnight. Through the draft, when you held his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, waiting for the moment his name would be called. Through the move to Cincinnati, where you learned the ins and outs of being an NFL girlfriend—then an NFL wife in everything but title.

You never needed the ring to prove your place beside him. Not at first.

Because when you love someone for that long, when you’ve been there since day one, you assume you’ll be there forever. You assume that one day, when the time is right, you’ll walk down the aisle and he’ll be standing at the end of it. That the same boy who once promised you the world in a whisper under Louisiana stars would eventually make good on it.

But love isn’t always enough.

And timing? Timing has a cruel way of making a fool out of you.

Before the waiting, before the uncertainty—there was LSU.

The golden days.

The kind of love people wrote songs about, the kind that burned so bright it felt untouchable, invincible. You and Joe had been through the trenches of college life together—cheap dates, sleepless nights, long drives in his old truck where he talked about the future like it was already written in the stars.

Joe had always been a planner. He didn’t just dream—he mapped things out, broke them down into plays, like a game he knew he would win. And in every version of the future he spoke about, you were in it.

“I’m gonna make it,” he told you one night, lying in the back of his truck, staring at the Baton Rouge sky like it held all his answers. The air was thick with humidity, cicadas singing in the distance, but neither of you cared. You were twenty, wildly in love, and the world hadn’t touched you yet. “I don’t care how long it takes, or how many people doubt me—I’m making it to the league.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I never doubted that.”

Joe turned then, propped himself up on an elbow, his sharp, determined eyes softening as he looked at you. “And when I do, I’m gonna give you everything.”

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a declaration.

Not just any ring—a rock. One that would catch the light from across the room, the kind that would make strangers do a double take. Not just any house—your dream home, the one you’d always wanted but never thought possible.

You had told him, once, in passing, the kind of house you loved. You were scrolling on your phone, lying with your feet in his lap, showing him a picture of a home that looked straight out of a magazine.

“That,” you had said, tapping the screen. “That’s the dream.”

White exterior, big windows—floor-to-ceiling in the living room, so the sunlight would pour in every morning. A wrap-around porch, because you always loved the idea of sitting outside with a glass of wine on summer nights. A kitchen with the biggest island imaginable, because you loved to cook, even if Joe barely trusted himself to make toast. A cozy sunroom, filled with mismatched chairs and overflowing bookshelves. A clawfoot bathtub in the master bath, where you could soak for hours after a long day.

Joe had barely glanced at the picture before he said, “Done.”

You laughed. “Joe, that house is like… five million dollars.”

“So?” He had smirked, cocky and confident in that way only he could pull off. “Give me a couple years.”

You shook your head, amused, but deep down, you believed him. You believed him because when Joe Burrow set his mind to something, it happened.

And when you asked, jokingly, what kind of dog he wanted, he just scoffed.

“Dogs? No. We’re gonna have like, eight cats.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out, hands behind his head, already painting the picture in his mind. “They’ll have dumb names, too. Like, I don’t know… Fettuccine. Or Tuxedo. Or—oh—Larry.”

“Larry?”

“Yeah. Larry’s gonna be the ringleader.”

You shook your head, laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joe just grinned, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You love me.”

And you did. God, you did.

You loved him through the highs—the Heisman win, the national championship, the night he got drafted when you held his face in your hands and told him this is it, baby. This is everything you worked for.

You loved him through the lows—when he tore his ACL his rookie year and sat in silence for hours, devastated, gripping your hand so tight it went numb. When the pressure of the league weighed heavy on him and he retreated inward, needing space, needing you to be his anchor without him ever having to say it.

You loved him because he was Joe.

Because he was the boy who once whispered about forever under Louisiana stars, who promised you a rock, a dream house, and eight cats named Larry and Fettuccine.

Because you believed, back then, that promises were made to be kept.

--

It started small.

A casual comment, barely even a question, when you were knee-deep in cardboard boxes in your new Cincinnati apartment. You’d been together for years by then, had already lived together in Baton Rouge, but this—this felt different. More permanent. He was the face of a franchise now, the golden boy of an entire city. And you? You were the woman who had been by his side through it all.

So when you held up a framed photo—one of the two of you from his LSU days, his arm wrapped around you, both of you grinning like you had the whole world ahead of you—you said it without thinking.

“Guess we’ll need some wedding pictures to put up soon, huh?”

It was light, teasing, the same way you’d joked about it a hundred times before. But this time, Joe didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.

He just exhaled through his nose, set down the box he was carrying, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m still adjusting to all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the apartment, the city, the new life he was stepping into. “Let’s just… settle in first.”

You told yourself it made sense.

Joe had always been slow to process change. He liked routine, predictability. He had just gone from college quarterback to the number-one draft pick, from playing in front of thousands to playing in front of millions. If he needed time, you’d give it to him.

And so you did.

You poured yourself into the role of supportive girlfriend, the unwavering presence behind the scenes. You went to every game, wore his jersey, kept your social media lowkey even when the WAGs of the league started reaching out. You made sure home felt like a safe haven for him—a place where he wasn’t Joe Burrow, NFL quarterback, but just Joe.

Months passed. Then a year. Then two.

And still, nothing.

You tried to be patient. You tried not to compare. But it was impossible not to notice when guys who had been in the league half as long as Joe were proposing to their girlfriends. When you went to team events and saw wives flashing diamond rings, their hands resting on their husbands’ arms like they belonged there. When your own friends started getting married, settling down, building the life you always thought you and Joe were working toward.

You weren’t the kind of girl who begged for a ring. That wasn’t you. That wasn’t why you loved him. But you also weren’t stupid.

So, one night, after a Bengals win, when it was just the two of you curled up on the couch—Joe half-asleep, his head resting on your thigh—you ran your fingers through his hair and asked,

“Do you ever think about it?”

His eyes cracked open slightly. “Think about what?”

“Marriage.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy in a way that made your stomach tighten.

Joe didn’t sit up, didn’t tense. But he also didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against your leg.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think about it.”

That was it. No elaboration. No follow-up.

And maybe it was the years of knowing him, of reading between the lines of what he didn’t say, but something about his tone sent a cold prickle down your spine.

You swallowed. “And?”

Joe sighed, shifting so he was looking up at you fully. His face was tired, drawn, the way it always was after a game.

“I love you,” he said first, because Joe always led with love, even when he was about to disappoint you. “I just don’t know if I’m… ready for all that.”

All that. Like marriage was some heavy, unbearable thing. Like it was a burden, instead of the only thing you’d ever wanted with him.

But you didn’t push. You never pushed.

You just nodded, kissed his forehead, and told yourself that he just needed more time.

You’d already given him years. What was a little longer?

For every golden memory, there was a night that ended with you crying into your pillow, your chest aching from the weight of words left unheard.

And Joe was never the type to yell.

That was the problem.

You could scream, slam cabinets, cry until your eyes were swollen, beg him to just say something—but Joe would sit there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on some invisible point in the distance. Silent. Stone-faced. Like he was waiting for a storm to pass rather than standing in the middle of it with you.

And when he was done listening, when he decided he had nothing to say, he’d just walk away.

No slammed doors. No cruel words. Just an exhale through his nose and the slow, deliberate sound of his footsteps leaving the room.

Then came the silence.

Hours, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge the way you curled up on your side of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself because if he wouldn’t hold you, you had to do it yourself.

It always started the same way.

Joe had never been a selfish person—at least, not intentionally. He loved you, worshipped you in his own quiet way. But he was also a man who had spent his entire life being taken care of.

First by his parents. Then by his coaches. Then by you.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you. You wanted to take care of him, because loving Joe Burrow meant making sure he ate real meals instead of surviving off protein shakes and granola bars. It meant picking up after him when he left his clothes on the floor, washing his jerseys so they always smelled like fresh detergent instead of sweat, keeping your home together while he threw every ounce of himself into football.

But over time, something shifted.

The gestures that had once been acts of love started to feel expected. You would spend hours cooking his favorite meal, only for him to eat in front of the TV without so much as a thank you. You’d clean up after him like clockwork, while he’d scroll through his phone, oblivious to the way you were moving around him like a ghost. You handled the small things—the groceries, the laundry, the appointments—so he never had to think about them. And the worst part? He didn’t think about them.

He didn’t think about how exhausting it was to pour so much of yourself into another person and get nothing in return.

One night, after a long day where you’d cooked, cleaned, and ran errands while Joe came home from practice, showered, and immediately planted himself on the couch, something in you snapped.

You had been standing in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes, while Joe sat in the living room, watching game film, oblivious to the way your hands were trembling from frustration.

“Joe,” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

He hummed, eyes still on the screen.

You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Do you even see me anymore?”

That got his attention. His head lifted slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Do you see me?” you repeated, voice shaking now. “Or am I just here? Like some… unpaid assistant who cooks your meals and cleans your shit and waits around for you to remember I exist?”

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Frustration. A bubbling anger that had been simmering for months. “I do everything for you. And I never ask for anything in return. But you don’t even appreciate it, Joe. You don’t see it. You don’t see me.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus, babe. I—look, I didn’t ask you to do all that.”

Your heart sank.

There it was. The knife, twisted so deep you almost doubled over from the pain of it.

You swallowed, eyes stinging. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic effort.”

Joe exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from the couch. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

And then, just like always, he walked away.

The silence stretched for days.

No matter how loud you got, how many tears you shed, it never mattered.

Because Joe didn’t scream.

Joe shut down.

--

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where the wine was poured before you even asked and the waiters moved so seamlessly you barely noticed them. It was a Bengals event—one of those exclusive, high-end dinners meant to bring players and their partners together, a little PR, a little networking, all wrapped in the illusion of luxury. Normally, you didn’t mind them.

But tonight? Tonight, Joe was off.

He had been for weeks. Ever since the injury, ever since he had to watch his team play without him, it was like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and refused to budge. You had tried, God, you had tried—to comfort him, to give him space, to be exactly what he needed. But no matter what you did, it felt wrong.

He barely talked. Barely looked at you. And when he did, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t place.

Resentment?

Disappointment?

You didn’t know.

So you sat at the table, plastering on a smile, sipping your wine, pretending everything was fine as the conversation buzzed around you. Ja’Marr and his girlfriend, a few of the other guys, their partners. The usual crowd.

The joke started innocent enough.

“You’re literally the dream NFL WAG,” Ja’Marr’s girlfriend said, laughing as she leaned over toward you. “Like, you do everything for him. Cook, clean, go to every game. You’re basically the gold standard.”

The table chuckled.

You laughed, too, but there was something hollow about it. It wasn’t that the statement was wrong. It was just that… for the past few months, being Joe’s girlfriend hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like an uphill battle, like loving him was a test you were always on the verge of failing.

But before you could say anything, Joe scoffed.

Loudly.

The kind of sound that cut through the easy, playful atmosphere and made everyone shift in their seats.

You turned to him, confused, but Joe wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was clenched, his grip tight around the base of his glass.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, sharp, edged with something you couldn’t name.

The table went quiet.

Your stomach sank.

“Joe,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm, but he pulled away, shaking his head.

���I need air.”

And just like that, he was on his feet, pushing back his chair, striding toward the exit without another word.

You barely hesitated before following.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold air hit you like a slap. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few blacked-out SUVs and a couple of lingering staff members. Joe was already a few steps ahead, his hands on his hips, breathing hard like he was trying to keep himself together.

You didn’t care. You weren’t going to let this go.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up to him.

Joe exhaled sharply, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“No. No.” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t get to humiliate me in front of everyone and then walk away like nothing happened.”

Joe turned then, eyes flashing with something you had never seen before. Rage.

“You think I don’t know?” His voice was louder now, cutting through the night air, his face twisted in frustration. “You think I don’t fucking see the way you take care of everything? How perfect you are? How much you do for me?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t the first time you’d fought, not even close. But this was different.

This was Joe shouting.

He never shouted.

“You think I don’t know how much you’ve sacrificed? How much you’ve had to deal with while I sit on the fucking sidelines, watching my team play without me?” His hands were in his hair now, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “You think I don’t feel like a goddamn failure every second of every day? That I don’t fucking hate myself for it?”

Your chest tightened. “Joe—”

“I get it, okay?” His voice was hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I get it. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I never said that.”

Joe looked at you then, really looked at you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you saw it.

The exhaustion. The fear. The guilt.

And underneath it all, something else. Something raw and painful and impossible to ignore.

“I can’t do this,” he said suddenly, shaking his head, stepping back. “Not tonight.”

Your stomach dropped. “Joe.”

But he was already turning away.

Already leaving.

And for the first time, you didn’t go after him.

Time, though, has a funny way of making fools out of people.

Because a little longer turned into another year. And another.

And soon, you weren’t just the girlfriend who had been with Joe since before the fame. You were the girlfriend who was still waiting. The one people whispered about at games, in comment sections, in DMs you tried not to read.

Why hasn’t he proposed yet? If he wanted to marry her, he would’ve by now. She’s been with him forever. That’s kinda embarrassing.

You weren’t stupid. You heard the whispers. You ignored them, brushed them off, laughed about them with Joe like they didn’t sting.

But deep down, they did.

And then, one night, you cracked.

It wasn’t planned. You weren’t trying to pick a fight. You were just lying in bed beside Joe, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, when an engagement post popped up on your feed. Another NFL couple. Another ring. Another reminder.

You set your phone down. Turned toward Joe, who was staring at the ceiling like he always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“Joe,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, eyes still fixed upward.

“Are you ever going to marry me?”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t bitter. Just quiet. Tired.

Joe closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath. And in that moment, you already knew the answer.

Not yet. Not now. I need more time.

The same thing he’d been saying for years.

But this time, you weren’t sure you could keep waiting.

--

It didn’t happen in one moment. It wasn’t a clean break, a single conversation where you both sat down, acknowledged the inevitable, and walked away like two people who had outgrown each other.

No, it was ugly. It was heartbreaking. It was loud.

It started in the living room, the place that had once been your sanctuary. The place where you curled up on the couch together after long days, where you laid your head on his lap while he absentmindedly played with your hair, where he kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But tonight, it was a battleground.

You stood near the coffee table, arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to keep from falling apart, while Joe paced in front of the fireplace, his hands tangled in his hair. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, his entire body radiating frustration. But under it—under the anger, the exhaustion—was something else.

Defeat.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Joe muttered, voice low but strained, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud.

Your stomach twisted. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured between the two of you, his voice louder now, raw with emotion. “The fighting, the tension, the constant feeling that no matter what I do, I’m letting you down.”

You flinched, because that wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t letting you down—he was shutting you out. Pushing you away, piece by piece, until you barely recognized the man standing in front of you.

And yet, despite it all, you still wanted to fight.

You needed to fight.

“Joe, you haven’t even tried—”

His laugh was hollow, sharp. “Tried? Are you kidding me?” He shook his head, running a frustrated hand down his face. “I have been trying for months. Trying to be what you need, trying to hold this shit together while I feel like I’m losing everything.”

Your throat tightened. “I never asked you to hold it together alone.”

He looked at you then, and the pain in his eyes nearly brought you to your knees.

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And that’s the worst fucking part.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Because suddenly, you saw it—the breaking point. The moment where all the fights, all the silences, all the nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart had led to.

This was it.

You swallowed, hard. “Joe… don’t do this.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

“I don’t need you to be anything—I just need you to try,” you choked out, hot tears spilling over your cheeks.

“I am trying!” His voice cracked, his hands gripping his hair like he was barely holding himself together. “But I’m not enough for you! And I don’t think I ever will be!”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, everything blurred—your vision, your thoughts, reality itself. Because how could he say that? How could he look at you, after everything, and think he wasn’t enough?

He had always been enough.

He had been everything.

Your chest heaved, your heart splintering, but you forced yourself to take a step forward, reaching for him like you had so many times before.

But this time, Joe stepped back.

Like touching you would break him completely.

Like it already had.

A sob ripped through your throat. “Joe, please—”

His eyes were glassy now, his own tears threatening to fall. But his face was set, his hands shaking at his sides.

“This isn’t working anymore.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through you like a blade.

And just like that, the world tilted.

You had imagined a lot of worst-case scenarios over the past few months—imagined nights where he would sleep on the couch, imagined him needing time apart, even imagined him telling you he wasn’t ready for marriage yet.

But this?

This was never supposed to happen.

He was supposed to fight.

He was supposed to love you enough to stay.

But instead, Joe exhaled shakily, like this was killing him too, and took another step back.

Like he had already made his decision.

Like he was already gone.

And then, through the unbearable tightness in your throat, through the tears blurring your vision, you said the only thing you could.

“What about everything you promised me?”

His face broke. Just for a second.

And then, softer than you’d ever heard him, he whispered, “I meant every word.”

And still, he turned away. Still, he walked to the door, grabbed his keys, and hesitated for only a second before pulling it open.

And you stood there, frozen in time, watching as the love of your life—the boy who once promised you forever under Louisiana stars—walked out of your life like he had never meant to stay.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Your legs gave out before you even realized you were falling. You collapsed onto the couch, hands clutching your chest as if that would somehow stop the pain, as if pressing hard enough could keep your heart from shattering.

But it did.

Piece by piece. And Joe?

Joe was gone.

--

Joe wasn’t sure when it started.

The feeling had been creeping up on him for months—slow at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, something he could ignore if he kept moving, if he kept winning.

But then he got hurt.

And suddenly, there was nowhere to run.

No game to prepare for, no film to study, no Sunday nights under the lights where he could lose himself in the only thing that had ever made him feel like enough.

He had always known you were out of his league. Everyone did.

You were a force—bright and untouchable, the kind of woman who could walk into a room and have everyone wrapped around your finger without even trying. You were loved in ways Joe had never been. Not because of what you did, not because of your talent or your career, but just because of who you were.

And Joe?

Joe was… Joe.

He had worked for everything. Clawed his way to the top, gritted his teeth through every setback, played with a chip on his shoulder so sharp it could cut. He had spent his entire life proving people wrong, showing them he was worth it, and still, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough.

But not with you. At least, not at first.

At first, you had looked at him like he was someone special—not because of football, not because he was Joe Burrow, but because he was yours. And for a while, that had been enough.

But then the marriage thing came up.

Then the quiet expectation that he was supposed to take the next step, that he was supposed to be ready.

And fuck, he wanted to be.

He wanted to put a ring on your finger, wanted to build a life with you, wanted to buy you the house you dreamed about and fill it with all the stupid cats he promised you back at LSU.

But the more you pushed, the more it felt like he was already failing.

You deserved the world, and he—he wasn’t sure he knew how to give it to you. You had grown up with love. Joe had grown up with pressure.

Your family adored you, your friends would kill for you, strangers on the internet called you an angel, and the worst part? They were right.

You were perfect. You were kind, and patient, and you gave so much of yourself without ever asking for anything in return—until, eventually, you did.

Until you started looking at him like you needed something more.

And maybe that’s when it started.

The resentment. The guilt.

The way he began shutting down because every time he looked at you, he saw someone who had given him everything, and all he could do was hold it in his hands and wonder when he was going to drop it.

So he pulled away.

And then he got injured. And then it got worse.

Because for the first time in his life, Joe had nothing to offer.

Football was gone. He was stuck on the sidelines, watching his teammates play without him, watching the world move forward while he stood still. And every time he came home, there you were—beautiful and untouchable and looking at him with so much love, and God, it made him want to rip his fucking hair out.

Because you weren’t supposed to love him like that.

Not when he was like this. Not when he felt like nothing.

And so, he made himself nothing to you.

He let the silence stretch between you, let the fights spiral into something he couldn’t control, let the guilt eat him alive until the only option left was to let you go.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he didn’t love you.

But because he loved you too much to keep being a disappointment.

Because you were everything. And he was just him.

--

Joe barely remembered the drive to Ja’Marr’s house.

The roads were dark and wet from rain, the city quiet in the way it only got after midnight, and yet everything inside him was loud. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, and his breath came in short, uneven bursts, like his body was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.

He had left.

He had actually left.

The second Ja’Marr opened the door, his easygoing expression dropped. “Shit.”

Joe must have looked as bad as he felt.

Ja’Marr didn’t ask questions, didn’t crack a joke or act like this was nothing. He just stepped aside, letting Joe in without a word.

Joe walked past him, straight to the couch, sinking down like his body couldn’t hold him up anymore. His hands were still shaking. He stared at them, trying to steady his breath, but the more he tried to push it down, the worse it got.

He felt like he was imploding.

Ja’Marr sat across from him, elbows on his knees. “You good?”

Joe huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out broken.

“No,” he admitted.

And then, just like that, the weight of it all came crashing down.

He broke.

For the first time in years, maybe ever, Joe let himself feel it.

His shoulders caved, his head fell into his hands, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore through his chest. It wasn’t quiet, wasn’t controlled—it was raw, guttural, the kind of grief that sat heavy in his ribcage and made him feel like he was drowning.

Ja’Marr swore under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn, man.”

Joe couldn’t respond. He could barely breathe.

Because he had spent so long trying to convince himself this was the right thing—that letting you go was necessary, that it was better for you, that one day you’d understand—but now, sitting on his best friend’s couch, in a house that wasn’t his, without you, it hit him.

You weren’t in the next room.

You weren’t waiting for him to come back.

You weren’t his anymore.

And for the first time since he met you, since you were just a girl in his corner, since he was just a college quarterback with a dream—he was alone.

—

The house was silent.

The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but hollow.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring at the front door as if it would swing open at any second, as if Joe would walk back in, apologize, say he didn’t mean it.

But the house stayed empty.

You should’ve done something—gone to bed, taken a shower, moved—but you couldn’t.

Your body felt detached, like you were floating just outside of yourself, watching as the reality of what had happened settled into your bones.

He was gone.

You sucked in a shaky breath, your eyes darting around the room, landing on all the pieces of him he had left behind. His hoodie draped over the back of the couch. His sneakers kicked off near the door. The blanket you always fought over, still crumpled where he had last used it.

Your throat tightened.

It felt wrong.

How was it possible that someone could just leave, and yet everything still looked the same? How was it possible that the world hadn’t just stopped?

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

You grabbed his hoodie, pulling it into your chest, clutching it so tightly your fingers ached. It still smelled like him—like his cologne, like home, like everything you were supposed to have forever.

A sharp, broken sob tore through you.

Your legs gave out.

You sank onto the floor, your body curling in on itself, gasping for air between sobs that didn’t seem to end.

You had imagined a million worst-case scenarios for your relationship, but you had never imagined this.

A fight, maybe. A bad one.

A few nights apart, maybe even a week.

But not this.

Not a house that suddenly felt too big, too cold, too wrong without him in it.

Not a silence that felt like it would swallow you whole.

Not an ending that you weren’t ready for.

Not Joe—your Joe—leaving, and not coming back.

Joe didn’t tell his parents right away.

He had gone weeks pretending it wasn’t real, pushing it down, acting like if he ignored it long enough, it wouldn’t hurt. Like the breakup was just another fight, another rough patch, and any second now, you’d come home.

But then spring rolled around, and he found himself back in Athens for a few days, sitting at his parents’ kitchen table, pushing food around his plate while his mom chatted about some wedding she had gone to.

He barely heard her—until she said your name.

“I just know she’ll look so beautiful at her own wedding one day,” Robin said, smiling like the thought made her happy. “Did she ever decide on a dress style? I remember she showed me a few options the last time we talked.”

Joe’s fork clattered against the plate.

His parents looked up.

The room suddenly felt too small. The walls too close. The weight in his chest unbearable.

“She’s not picking a dress,” he said flatly.

His mom’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

Joe exhaled sharply, staring at the table. His throat felt tight, his hands fisting in his lap. “We broke up.”

Silence.

Not the kind he was used to. Not the easy kind.

His dad was the first to speak. “When?”

“A while ago.” His voice was hoarse, his jaw tight.

Robin looked like he had just slapped her across the face. “Joe… what?”

She sounded hurt.

Like he had broken her heart, too.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Joe swallowed. “I didn’t know how.”

His mom was still frozen in shock. “But—why? What happened?”

Joe should have had an answer. He should have been able to give them some logical, concrete reason why the only real love he had ever known had just… ended.

But there wasn’t one. Not really.

So he just shook his head. “I wasn’t enough for her.”

His dad exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Joe—”

Robin’s eyes filled with tears, and that—that was what finally did it. That was the moment it hit him, the moment the denial shattered and left nothing but cold, brutal truth in its place.

You were gone.

Not just for a few days.

Not just waiting for him to fix it.

You were gone.

Joe scraped his chair back so suddenly it screeched against the floor.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, standing up, hands shaking.

“Joe—”

“I just—I gotta go.”

And then he was out the door, out of the house, into his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred. His chest caved in.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold it together.

It didn’t work.

That was the moment Joe decided he needed a distraction.

A new game plan. A new something—because if he let himself sit in this pain, if he let himself really feel it, it might consume him completely.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He threw himself into excess.

He spent money like it was nothing, like it was oxygen, like keeping the spending going would somehow fill the empty space inside of him. New cars, new watches, expensive nights out where the bill was triple what it needed to be. If someone wanted a round of shots? Joe was covering it. If his guys wanted to go to Miami for the weekend? No problem.

And the women.

That was the easiest distraction of all.

They were everywhere—at the clubs, at the restaurants, at the parties where he never used to go but suddenly needed to be. They touched him like they wanted him, smiled at him like he was the most important man in the room. And for a few hours at a time, he let them.

He let them run their hands over his chest, let them whisper in his ear, let them follow him back to hotel rooms or his new penthouse in the city.

He let them treat him like he was whole.

But then morning would come, and the illusion would shatter.

Every single time, he’d wake up next to someone who wasn’t you.

Someone whose perfume didn’t smell like yours. Someone whose touch didn’t feel like home. Someone who would roll over, press lazy kisses to his skin, and call him baby in a way that made his stomach twist.

Because you used to call him that.

And now you never would again.

It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be freeing, making up for lost time, for all the years he had spent as the devoted boyfriend, the one-woman man, the guy who turned down numbers and shut down flirting because he only wanted you.

But none of it worked.

None of it made him feel better.

Because at the end of the day, he was still Joe.

And you were still gone.

It took one of his teammates pulling him aside one night to finally say what he couldn’t.

“Bro,” Sam said, hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Joe blinked, pulling his attention away from whatever girl had been whispering in his ear at the bar. “What?”

Sam gave him a look. “You’re not this guy.”

Joe let out a sharp laugh. “I’m fine.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Joe didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

But he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

So he just exhaled, forced a smirk, and lifted his drink. “Don’t worry about me, man.”

But Sam was worried.

And deep down, Joe knew why.

Because no matter how many nights he spent surrounded by people, no matter how much money he threw at the problem, no matter how many women climbed into his bed—

The only thing he ever felt anymore was hollow.

--

The day you packed your bags and left Cincinnati, you didn’t cry.

You had done enough of that.

Your best friend had offered—begged, really—for you to come stay with her in Columbus, and after weeks of waking up in a house that no longer felt like a home, you finally said yes.

It wasn’t running away.

It was survival.

Joe had been your world for so long that, without him, you weren’t sure where to stand. Your entire adult life had revolved around him—his schedule, his dreams, his highs, his lows. You had built a life inside of his. And now, that life was gone.

So, for the first time in years, you weren’t trying to be somebody’s something. You weren’t trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive WAG, the woman who held it all together.

You were just trying to be you.

Whoever that was.

—

Columbus was different.

It wasn’t Cincinnati, where every street corner reminded you of Joe. Where the grocery store held memories of early-morning runs before his games. Where your favorite restaurant was the place he took you after he signed his first big contract. Where you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a billboard with his face plastered on it, a cruel reminder that he was still Joe Burrow, still untouchable, still larger than life—just not yours anymore.

Columbus was quiet. A fresh start.

Your best friend had a cozy apartment near downtown, and the first night you arrived, she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. She just ordered takeout, opened a bottle of wine, and let you sit in silence.

That first week, you didn’t do much.

You slept too much, or not at all. Some nights, you laid awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if Joe was doing the same. Other nights, exhaustion won, and you crashed so hard you barely dreamed.

The dreams were the worst.

Because in them, he was still yours.

You still woke up to the sound of him moving around in the kitchen, still felt the weight of his arm draped over your waist, still heard his voice murmuring morning, baby in that slow, sleep-rough tone he always had.

But then morning would come, and none of it was real.

So, you started over.

You got a cat.

It wasn’t planned—you had just gone to the shelter one afternoon, thinking you’d look, thinking maybe it would distract you for a few minutes. But then you saw her.

Small. A little scrappy. White with a black spot over her eye, looking at you like she had already decided you belonged to her.

The name came easily.

“Larry,” you told the adoption worker, lips twitching into something like a smile. “Her name is Larry.”

Joe would’ve laughed at that.

Joe would’ve—

No.

This wasn’t about Joe.

Larry was yours.

So you took her home, bought her the stupidest, most ridiculous toys you could find, and let her curl up on your chest at night, purring so loudly it drowned out the silence.

You learned how to French braid.

You had never bothered before—your hair had always been something he liked, something he ran his fingers through when he was half-asleep on the couch. But now? Now, you spent hours watching tutorials, standing in front of the mirror, fingers twisting and looping until, finally, you got it right.

It was small, stupid even. But it was something just for you.

You started reading.

At first, it was just a way to pass the time—something to do instead of scrolling through Instagram, instead of wondering what he was doing. But then you fell into it, deep. You found yourself curled up on the couch for hours, lost in stories, letting yourself escape into other people’s lives.

Romance novels were hard at first. Because love still felt like a wound, like something sharp and raw and too close to home.

But one day, months after the breakup, you found yourself reading a love story and not feeling like your chest was caving in.

That was progress.

You cooked for yourself.

You had always cooked for Joe—his favorites, his comfort foods, the meals he requested after long practices. But now, you cooked what you wanted. You tried new recipes, bought ingredients you had never used before, made dishes with no one else’s preferences in mind.

It was weird, at first.

But then, one night, you sat at the table, eating something just for you, and it didn’t feel lonely.

It felt… peaceful.

You went on long walks, alone, with no one to check in with. You bought flowers for yourself. You started journaling, writing down things you had never let yourself think too hard about.

You let yourself exist.

And one day—on a random, unremarkable afternoon—you realized something. It had been weeks since you last thought of him.

Not that he was gone.

Not that it didn’t still hurt, sometimes, in quiet moments when you weren’t expecting it.

But for the first time, in a long, long time—

You felt like you. Without him.

[tangerineastronaut]

hello can I get ateez members as doms? how they act with there subs in these relationship.

Dom!ATEEZ and Sub!Reader individual dynamics | ot8

Pairing: ot8 and their Dom!style Genre: ot8 reactions Requested: Yes w.c. 2.5k Warnings: BDSM dynamics, mentions of smut/sex/etc, discussion of punishments, dacryphilia A/N: what even is this I am so sorry this is so bad omg Please remember this is just my take. If you disagree, you're more than welcome to make your own! Don't take it personally 🫶🏽 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

Hongjoong

Be afraid

^ When you’re bad (most of the time, u little shit)

Hard!Dom, strictest of the members

Brat tamer 100000% but doesn't want to be

Genuinely gets angry when you’re a brat, would prefer if you’d just listen to him

Punishments are meant to break you emotionally

Worst of all the members in that regard tbh

Will deny you things rather than physical discipline ~ praise, orgasms, affection

Wants you desperate and needy, it gives him control over you

Can forget to give you praise at times, does not get angry if you ask/remind him

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been busy, baby. Yes, I’m proud of you for going out today, I know you’ve been struggling recently. Did you eat at that cafe you liked? Did you remember to use my card? Why not? That's what it's for, love."

Blows money on you

Cannot stop buying you pretty things, especially clothes

Makes you try on the things he's purchased for you - usually ends with you getting fucked in whatever you had on last

Wants you to wear nice things when you go out to fancy dinners

Not very physically affectionate but will be if you need him to be

Will not punish you for being insecure, just wants to reassure you and make you feel beautiful

Sex is either quick and dirty or long and passionate

Fav positions are standing or missionary with your legs over his shoulders

Shower sex >>>

He's so damn busy there's not much other choice

Looks so fucking hot when he's got you pinned to the tile wall

Biting/marking - he loves to use his teeth on you

Don't you dare bite him back

Likes foreplay but prefers sex, is good at eating you out but would rather use his cock than his tongue

Is good at aftercare, though it's more of a standard, doesn't like pillow talk unless you need it

Will still make sure you're safe/comfy/loved and will do anything for you

Is rough, but can turn it off when he knows you need a softer side.

Seonghwa

Soft!dom

Gentle until he isn't

Strict, but not the strictest

Does not enjoy punishments as much as the others, but still wants to make sure you know your place

Does not understand the concept of being a brat, you're so good for him

"What do you mean no? Like no...what? I just asked you to come here, silly."

Rarely has to punish you anyway, he doesn’t have many rules

You break the rules on purpose sometimes

He’ll punish you harder if he thinks that’s the case vs you accidentally breaking a rule

Very snuggly

Will want you to just sit with him while he works with his legos

Loves to be held by you

Asks you for compliments

“Do you like this color on me?”

Will not scold you in public

Expect gentle touches and verbal correction

Hates seeing you cry, even if it's from an intense orgasm

Obsessed with aftercare

Will shower you with praise and tell you how well you did

"I'm sorry baby, I was rough today. Took me so well though, so pretty. Love it when you get on your back for me. Want me to wash your hair?"

Likes taking care of you in general, will mother you like his members (but worse)

"Why didn't you eat today?! C'mon, let's go to that noodle shop you like."

Sex is not super kinky but is almost always emotional

Pretty straightforward, wants you both to feel good and snuggle after

Likes getting head and giving head, but prefers sex over foreplay

Fav positions are spooning and intimate spaces like in a comfy chair with you in his lap

Soft kisses + him stroking your hair + thanking you for always being his good girl

Yunho

Cocky and playful

Neither soft nor hard, just likes to keep you guessing

Is silly unless he's in a bad mood

Likes to make you sit in his lap while he games

You like it too, he knows it

Will get pouty if you don't praise his efforts

Don't tease him while he plays

Fr don't

If you value your cervix, you will not tease this man when he's not in the mood for sex

"What's wrong, baby? You were whining for my attention, now you're whining that it doesn't fit? That's a fucking lie."

Size kink

Likes feeling bigger/taller/stronger than you

Expect to be teased over this, even if you're not that short

Loves taking selfies with you

A big puppy

Can be a big scary puppy

Doesn't scold you in public

Likes it when you know you're in trouble

Sweetheart but will do a 180

When he's stressed or in a bad mood he can be too rough

Sometimes it's hard to tell when it's okay to be silly and not

He will let you know

Breeding kink at its finest

Size kink + breeding kink = RIP ur ability to walk

"I know it's deep baby, shh...almost there..."

Likes making you beg

Loves to degrade you and then praise you in the same breath

Talks you through it

Very sweet, silly aftercare

Sex is not complete until you're a giggling, sleepy mess in his arms

Fav position is anything where he can manhandle you beneath him

Yeosang

Quiet dom

But not soft

Very strict but is not loud about it

Perfect brat tamer, but isn't one (you can't rile him up—most intuitive of the members and rarely rises to the occasion)

Most of his dominant side is only seen when you're alone

Does not scold you in public

Expects you to follow the rules and does not remind you

Goes straight to punishment

You cannot catch him off guard

Knows your moods before you do

Terrifyingly calm

"Is that how we're acting today? Okay."

Likes to edge you

Loves when you orgasm as soon as his cock goes in due to overstimulation

^ will continue fucking you anyway

Thinks you're prettiest when you're crying

"That good, huh? You're blushing baby...such pretty tears."

Fucks you sitting up, likes it when you cling to him and wants to feel your tears on his shoulders

Eye contact >>>

So fucking calm it's scary, truly

Like imagine you've fucked up in public and you know it, this mf just gives you the gentlest of smiles

He likes you anxious

Sex is deceptively rough

You would not expect it but he likes it to hurt

He wants you to fight back

That grip strength is not to be taken lightly

Fav position is missionary or in a car with you in his lap

Aftercare is pretty strict, he has a routine

Bathroom, water, bed, letting him hold you

Prioritizes you afterwards since he knows he can be rough

Wants you to tell him about your day as though he didn't just rail you into next tuesday

San

Very traditional dom vibes

Does not hold back on punishments like hwa

Expect an equal amount of praise and correction, heavily values both

Big on body worship, either you on him or vice versa

Will want you to kiss his chest and shoulders and remind him how safe he makes you feel

Protective, but not possessive

Best dom for daddy issues

Will tell you he's proud of you but fuck you into the mattress a few minutes later

^ while still telling you he's proud of you

Most fair punishments, typically physical but not cruel

Spankings, being made to take it on the floor, being tied down, etc etc

Loooooves tying you up

Huge on boundaries and safewords

All the members are but San prefers constant check ins

"How are we, baby? Can you still take it? Use your words, pretty girl."

Sex lasts a loooooong time from foreplay to aftercare

Like, expect to spend an entire evening in the bedroom

Only because he loves to warm you up beforehand with a few orgasms

Loves it when you orgasm

Edging is not necessary, he wants you to have as many as possible until you're overstimulated

Follows your lead during aftercare, whatever you need

"Did so good for me. What do you need from me, baby? A massage? I can do that. Love you so much. Did so well tonight."

Will let you sit in his lap while he works

Likes it when you tease him, but won't punish you right away

Makes you wait for it

"Hi baby. Remember what you did earlier? Let's figure out how to make you say sorry without words."

Fav positions are you in his lap or lying on the counter/table

Mingi

BRAT TAMER

and loves it

Will encourage you to act out just so he can punish you

Literally begging for a reason

"Please baby. Tell me no one more fucking time. The kitchen table is right there and I'm hard as fuck."

Mean and you love it

Is going to bend you over any surface when you give him the slightest inclination that you're about to act up

Effortlessly attractive, actually unfair

Genuinely does not know how wet you are simply because he's pinning you down

Lives for his own pleasure and you're along for the ride

DO NOT think he doesn't care about you getting off tho—

—and do not let that man's mouth near your pussy if you know what's good for your health

Addicted to eating you out

Mingi demands few things of you as his sub, but allowing him to ravish your pussy is a requirement

You WILL sit on his face and you WILL cry and he WILL hold your hips so you can't squirm away while he sucks your clit and makes you cum for the third time

Uses it as both a reward and punishment

That overstimulation will have you in tears

He does not care

Sex lasts a little longer than average simply because you have to pry him off of you

Impatient when it comes to you and your attitude

Punishment is always physical

Loves to spank you for misbehaving

Not the kinkiest but probably the most hypersexual of the members

LOUD sex

Aftercare is not really organized but still very involved. Expect kisses, a very clingy man, and cuddling

Loves you with your clothes on too

Can forget to give you praise, but shows you he's proud in his own ways

"You made this? Holy shit, it's amazing. My baby can cook??"

Kissing the top of your head, just because he can >>>>

Does not scold you in public—probably has not realized you've done something that warrants scolding

Is possessive and VERY jealous

Like Hongjoong, he knows when to turn it off if you need him to be gentle with you

Wooyoung

A fucking? brat dom?

Will ignore you for attention

You can't outbrat the brat

Big on silent treatment as long as he thinks you can emotionally handle it

Very touchy feely, likes grabbing you and holding you against him

Has a range of looks to give you to tell you when you've fucked up

Hates when other men stare at you, will absolutely stare back

Loves PDA the most out of the members

Does not care if you're in public, will scold you when needed

Will also tease you just to see you squirm

Is not above things like vibrating panties when you've been acting up

Loves to use his hands during punishment or praise

Expect handprints on your ass

May as well get them tattooed on there tbh

Whiny when he wants your attention

Can sometimes be too much

"Are you okay? Was that too hard?"

Likes to make you cry

Enjoys pissing you off since you can't do anything about it

Imagine getting fucked daily by your biggest opp

"Aww, are you mad? Huh? I can tell. Cry me a river while you take this cock, baby."

a menace, tbh

Sex is kinky af

DIRTY TALK mf won't shut up as it is and rambles when he's inside you

"Take it, baby. That's it, just like that. So fucking pretty. You just open those legs when I come near, huh? An obedient little slut when she expects cock."

Not super long sex but can happen multiple times a day

Possessive and jealous

Takes lots of pictures of you

^ Doing anything

"Hold still, I'm taking a pic. Can you tilt your head? Your toothbrush is in the way."

Aftercare is forehead kisses and praise, whining when you have to get up.

Big heart, loves giving you compliments and seeing you shine

Is infinitely proud of you and will not stop telling you so

Likes to do domestic things with you like cooking

Takes you on cute little dates rather than big fancy dinners

Do NOT let him hear you talking bad about yourself

Jongho

Loves being a dom the most

Similar to San, very straightforward, traditional dom

Unlike San, has a cruel streak

Basically a combination of Hongjoong and San

He feels the best when he spoils you

Wants you to buy anything you want

Obsessed with you fr

Wants to make love to you any time he can

Will pin you down but...romantically??

Master of seduction, likes you warm and ready for him

Takes you to fancy dinners and then fucks you in the car on the way home

Loves having his cock worshipped by you

Can eat pussy but prefers seeing your lips wrapped around him

Calls you good girl more than anything

"Did you take your medicine this morning? Good girl."

Isn't jealous at all

Doesn't have to be, he knows you're his

When he catches other men staring at you he feels proud like "yeah, she's mine."

Extremely physically affectionate but only in private

Gentlemanly in public, his hand is usually at the small of your back

In private he just wants to hold you

Loves picking you up

Will pet your hair and pull you in for kisses while he asks about your day

Loves your hair btw

Like, wrapped around his insane grip while he fucks you from behind

Dirty talk

"That's it, baby. Look so pretty like this. You've been wet all day, huh? Just waiting for me to get home and make it better? How many times did you touch that pussy thinking of me?"

Not super kinky, but sex is still intense

Does like to blindfold you occasionally

Likes it when he comes home from work to find you naked in bed, where you're supposed to be

"Is this for me?" he'll ask, sliding his hand over your bare ass.

Doesn't even get fully undressed before he's inside you, he's only impatient when it comes to you

Breeding kink but AUTHENTIC. Like, wants you pregnant (only when you're ready) will probably find you absolutely irresistible when pregnant

Aftercare is whatever you need but will always include water and cuddles

Very protective of you, scolds you for being clueless at times

"Why the hell did you take an uber? You should've just called me. Who knows what kind of people are out there!"

Will get angry with you but you're literally the gem of his life, he treasures you more than anything

[writeriguess]

Hello! I hope you had a great day/night🥰

I was wondering If you could make a smutty fem reader x katsuki bakugo

the reader and bakugo have been together for some time and every time they had sex nothing really happened, the did it, did aftercare and went to bed (most of the times) but this time the reader was at bakugo's house visiting him but for some reason bakugo gets riled up and wants to do it with the reader, his parents weren't in the house anyway so he didn't need to stress about someone interrupting so in the end they end up having sex.

But katsukis mom and dad comes early and he doesn't notice, while the reader and katsuki are doing their thing Mitsuki hears strange noises come from bakugos bedroom. She ends up curious and walks towards his room to find out what was happening but then is meet with you and katsuki.

Katsuki gets really embarrassed but mitsuki isn't mad, instead she shouts "Are you finally making my grandkids"

You don't need to write a fanfic about this! You have full right to delete! But this is just an idea that has been roaming in my head for days and I just really want someone to write a fic abt this😅

Anyways! I won't be sad or mad if you delete this, write it if only you're comfortable❤️

(Also sorry for shifting between bakugo and katsuki I didn't know which of them to use😅)

Heat of the Moment

The thing about Bakugo was that he had control. Most of the time.

Sure, he had a temper, and yeah, he was easy to rile up in a fight, but when it came to you? He always kept himself in check. He never let himself get too lost in it, never let his instincts take over, because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

That was… until tonight.

You weren’t even trying to be subtle. Maybe it was the fact that his parents were gone, maybe it was just because you wanted to push his buttons, but every little thing you did was setting him off.

The way you sat so close to him on the couch, your thigh pressed against his. The way your fingers lazily traced the muscles in his forearm while you pretended to be watching the movie on the screen. The way you leaned in, lips just barely ghosting over his ear as you whispered, “You’re so tense, Katsuki… want me to help you relax?”

And fuck, he tried. He really fucking tried to ignore it. To just smirk and brush it off like you weren’t making his dick throb with every slow, deliberate movement.

But when you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without a second thought, and rolled your hips down against the growing bulge in his sweats?

That was it. That was the fucking breaking point.

His hands were on you in an instant, rough and possessive as he grabbed your waist and slammed you back down against his hard length. “You think you’re fuckin’ cute, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous, but the way his cock twitched against you gave away just how much you were affecting him.

You bit your lip, looking down at him with those teasing eyes that had been driving him insane all night. “Maybe,” you mused, rolling your hips again, slow and deliberate. “Are you gonna do something about it?”

A guttural growl rumbled in his chest before he flipped you onto your back, pressing you into the couch with his weight. His knee shoved between your thighs, spreading you open for him as he loomed over you, crimson eyes dark and full of hunger.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than something, baby,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. One hand shot under your shirt, fingers finding your breast and squeezing, rolling your nipple between his rough fingertips as his other hand slid down to your shorts. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

You gasped as he shoved your shorts down, not bothering with finesse. His fingers slid between your thighs, pressing against your already slick folds. “Fuck,” he groaned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “All this from a little teasing? You’re such a fuckin’ slut for me, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, hips arching into his touch, and he chuckled darkly. “Nah, don’t even try to play shy now. You wanted this.”

And then he was lining up, shoving his sweats down just enough to free his cock. Thick, hard, already leaking precum. He didn’t even tease—he just grabbed your hips, lined up, and thrust inside in one deep stroke.

The stretch was sudden, almost too much, but fuck, the way he groaned against your neck made it impossible to care. “So fuckin’ tight,” he growled, giving you barely a second to adjust before pulling out and slamming back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist as he set a relentless pace, hips snapping against yours with loud, wet slaps. Every thrust had your head spinning, had your body arching up into him as he fucked you deep into the couch.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, huh?” he panted, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanted me to snap? Wanted me to fuck you like I couldn’t wait another second?”

You moaned, nails digging into his back, and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as he drove into you even harder. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, lips trailing down your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect—made for me.”

His name fell from your lips over and over, breathless and desperate, and he drank in every sound, every little whimper. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, pounding into you with reckless abandon. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You didn’t even need to be told. The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure hitting you like a shockwave as your walls clamped down around him. Your whole body shook, a high-pitched moan spilling from your lips as you came hard around his cock.

Bakugo snarled, hips stuttering as he chased his own release, burying himself as deep as he could before spilling inside you with a guttural groan. His grip on your wrists tightened as he rode it out, panting against your neck before finally collapsing on top of you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of both of you trying to come back down from the high. Then, finally, Bakugo chuckled, low and satisfied.

“Next time you wanna tease me,” he murmured, voice still husky from exertion, “just tell me you wanna get fucked stupid, princess.”

You giggled breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Noted.”

Though, judging by the way his cock twitched inside you again, it seemed like one round wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

A while later, you were on it again.

Katsuki had barely given you a break before he was all over you, flipping you onto your stomach and muttering about how you were gonna “pay for riling him up like that.” Not that you were complaining.

The only problem? He was so lost in you that he didn’t hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the sound of keys dropping into the bowl.

Didn’t hear the unmistakable click of his mother’s heels as she walked down the hallway.

You, on the other hand, froze the second you heard a voice call out:

“We’re home! Bakugo, did you clean the—”

And then, before either of you could react, before Katsuki could even think to move—

The bedroom door swung open.

Mitsuki Bakugo stood there, eyes wide, taking in the absolute disaster of a scene before her. Her son, bare-ass naked, hovering over you. Your face buried in the pillow, Katsuki’s hands gripping your hips. The sheer horror on your face as you registered what was happening.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“HOLY FUCK, MOM—!”

Katsuki launched himself off of you, scrambling for the sheets in sheer panic. You barely managed to yank a blanket over yourself before Mitsuki’s voice rang through the house:

“ARE YOU FINALLY MAKING MY GRANDKIDS?!”

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Instant cardiac arrest. Take me now.

Katsuki’s face was redder than his damn explosions. “WHAT THE HELL, OLD HAG? GET OUT!!”

But Mitsuki wasn’t done. No, she was grinning. Grinning. Hands on her hips like this was the best news of her life.

“Damn, about time!” she continued, ignoring the way Katsuki was practically combusting. “I was starting to think you were incapable—”

“SHUT UP!!” Katsuki grabbed the nearest object—a pillow—and launched it at her with enough force to send it flying down the hallway.

Mitsuki just cackled, dodging effortlessly. “Make sure you’re using protection, brat—unless you’re actually trying to give me grandkids—”

“OUT!!”

With one last laugh, she finally strolled out, still muttering about how she was “too young to be a grandma, but still, wouldn’t mind a little mini-Katsuki running around.”

The moment the door slammed shut, Katsuki flopped onto his back, covering his face with both hands.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you could speak.

Until finally, after what felt like an eternity, you whispered:

“…So, uh. Round three?”

Katsuki groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way he rolled back over you said otherwise.

[free-slutt]

mdni! ✰

tw: slight smut, swearing, age gap!

sugar daddy!satoru who loves to spoil his “babydoll” with the most latest designer pieces! chrome hearts, chanel, rick owens, birkins. whatever you want he’s gonna get it for you especially when you use that cute little pout that drives him fucking nuts

“satoru please!” you pout your bottom lip every so cutely with those big puppy dog eyes

“whatever you want babydoll”

sugar daddy!satoru who has a habit of sending you money just because. you can be in a bad mood, it’s a family members birthday, a holiday, or a random tuesday. he takes this roll very seriously. it’s more of a power dynamic for him, he loves that he can take control of your life, your bank account, how you treat him.. he loves the advantages that come with as well.

“tell me sweets.. well show me how bad you want that new bag”

oh! he doesn’t have to tell you twice.. there you are on your knees! a slobbering messy delicious sight for sore eyes

one hand of satorus making a sloppy pony while he fucks your mouth with no remorse on how bad it’s hurting you right now

“toru… too much” you mange to mumble against him fully in your mouth, he’s too big you can basically feel him down your throat. thick and curved too. whew…

he’s smirking while his other hand is grabbing onto whatever he can find, a pillow, a blanket.. whatever!

as he shoots his warm salty load into your mouth you can’t help but gag not because he taste bad but you weren’t exactly ready, you try to spit it out but…

“uh uh sweets! swallow my kids f-for me yea? part of the deal honey” as he’s fucking his load back into your mouth forcefully making you swallow it. all.

sugar daddy!satoru as much he doesn’t want to admit he can’t help but feel for you. that’s part of the reason why you guys are in this “relationship” in the first place. when he saw you at the local coffee shop getting yelled at by your boss looking so cute so innocent, he knew he wanted you.. he wanted to show you more to life than whatever you had going on originally. it started off with frequent visits and small compliments to small tips than larger tips, until he finally got your number and well? let’s just say after that he gave you his tip as well!

“o-oh my sweets! taking daddy’s cock so fucking w-well” he groans out gripping the fat of your ass as he pushes your head down to the black silk sheets of his mattress

“g-gonna fuck you t-till you can’t walk!” he looks down at the prettiest sight of your messy pussy wrapping around his cock like it was fighting for its life.. so tight and warm for him.

sugar daddy!satoru who gives you a time limit and a certain amount to spend a week and if you don’t obey and follow his orders you get punished, not any ordinary punishment though! oh he’s gonna ruin you..

as you lay there on his lap skirt pushed up to high pretty pink panties on display smack! satoru gives your pretty ass a nice good spanking…

“toru-ugh-i’m s-sorry! hurtssss” you whine but satoru really doesn’t care what you have to say especially since you didn’t listen to him

“oh? it hurts babydoll?” he chuckles coldly “you know what hurts me? my girl not following orders” smack! satoru will get carried away in the act.. again like i said it’s all about the power dynamic for him! he smirks at how soaked you are he can see it through those stupid pink panties of yours

“guess you can’t really say much anymore since your pretty little pussy is asking for more” he laughs bringing his long finger to rub small but rough circles on your clit.. he’s right your wet! you love it, you want more. “oh.. she’s practically begging for more”

“baby doesn’t know how to spend my money.. do i have to add more?” he asks moving your panties to the side spreading your legs open a little with his free hand while he bring his finger back to you, your mouth. “spit!” he demands and you do what was said.

“that’s my girl” he says teasingly

he brings his wet finger from your saliva down to your pussy entering you with no warning which causes you to whimper and squirm on his lap. he laughs gripping your hips with his free hand “since your moving so much should i take away from your allowance” he asks in such a tone.. a teasing tone.. he wants you to protest he wants you to say something.

“m-more toru!” he smirks at your response “make it clear babydoll, more money or more fingers?” he laughs while adding two more fingers which causes you to moan. loudly!

“gotta stretch this little pussy out for what’s to come later”

sugar daddy! satoru who takes you on vacations monthly. it could be a solo trip, a “couples” vacation or even a girls trip. he doesn’t care he’ll pay for every single damn expense, the rental car, the hotel, or the air bnb. it’s all up to you! he’s constantly checking your bank account to see if your spending the sufficient amount of money.

sugar daddy!satoru who takes you to the mall, doesn’t complain not once at how long he’s been in one store.. it could be hours at the same place he wouldn’t care as long as your doing what your supposed too. as you walk out his arms and hands are filled with bags,bags,bags and you guessed it! more bags! as you smile up at him and thank him for everything. he can’t help but feel such love and care for his pretty like angel

“you love this life huh? such a spoiled brat? might make you my pretty little wife.. stay like this forever”

an: english is not my first language so forgive me for any grammar errors if you have any recommendations/request feel free to submit!

[star-suh]

Johnny, La Gente Está Muy Loca… WTF

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: protected sex to bareback (remember do NAWT use oil based lube when you're using a condom), some impregnation kink disguised as silly jokes 😭

an: this is the best title i could ever think of ngl, like this is peak star-suh idk.

—

yn was in line waiting for the doors to open so he can finally witness a party with DJ JohnnyBe, he heard that all his parties are fun.

when they opened yn went straight to the bar to order something to drink, while he was waiting for the show to start he made some friends her and there.

“ladies and gentlemen please give it up for our guest DJ JohnnyBe” screams and claps of excitement flooded the room when the dj appeared. “hello everyone, i'm glad to be here and i hope i could make this night unforgettable for all of you” he winked, put on his dark glasses and blasted his first set of songs. the bass sounds make the floor vibrate. the music was intoxicating, DJ JohnnyBe indeed knows how to lit a party. during one of his last sets johnny removed his glasses, his gaze was adjusting to the bright colored flashing lights when he saw yn in the crowd. the guy was happy having the time of his life, something that made johnny smile and caught his attention too.

“excuse me, i’m going to the bathroom” yn whispered to one of his new friends and went there. “it was a magnificent night guys, thank you for coming here but i have to go now” everyone awwed, disappointed, wanting more of him, “but don't worry, tye part continues with the next dj”, everyone screamed in euphoria while johnny left and went to the bathroom.

yn was washing his face when someone entered the bathroom, “hey you're the happy boy that was on the crowd” johnny said with a happy tone. yn was stunned seeing him that close, his mouth was agap, thinking it was a dream caused by all the drinks he had tonight he said “fuck, you're so hot”. johnny was taken aback by this but then smirked, “well thanks” he replies.

yn realized it's not a dream, dj johnny fucking be was right there in front of him. his face became red like a tomato. “i-i'm sorry i think i-i d-drank a lot to-tonight haha” his flustered ass tried to brush it off. johnny places both hands on each side of tn cornering him against a counter. “you look so cute when you're flustered” both males made eye contact, one’s eyes showing how shy he was while the other's were fierce, as if a hunter had just hunted his prey.

“what's wrong party boy. what happened to that “fuck you're so hot” earlier comment, hmm?” at this point yn didn't know what to say he just closed his eyes but opened them again when he felt something poking at his bulge. it was johnny’s bulge. “see how horny i am, right now?, you should take responsibility for it” the low tone of his voice sending yn already to cloud 9, he moaned johnny’s name.

“hmm what was that?” johnny asked, his breath tickling yn’s neck. his lips ghosting his skin. he was desperate to feel johnny, he wanted him to touch him, obliterate him, rearrange his insides. “i’ve never felt this horny before for someone” yn confessed, feeling even more shy. johnny grabbed him by his chin so he can look directly at his eyes, “me neither” he said kissing the flustered boy…

johnny guided yn towards a bathroom stall while still kissing him, his tongue wxploring the other's mouth. “just put it in, i prep myself at home” yn said in between moans. “naughty” johnny heaved. he pulls out a condom from his pocket, unwrapped it and rolled it down his big thick shaft.

“wait” yn stopped johnny from putting in, “use this” he handed johnny a little bottle of lube that one of his new friends, conveniently, gave it to him as a ‘gift’ so he can have lots of fun tonight.

johnny applied and large amount of it on the latex and on yn's hole, he slapped it a few times on the entrance and slowly put it in, inch by inch. the sex was rough, with johnny using his hands to muffle yn's moans, something that was unnecessary due to the excessive loud music outside in the club. there were times were johnny instead made yn suck his fingers as if it was his dick. every time the dj thrusted deep a bulge formed on yn's tummy, “joh-johnny you're very deep”.

yn was pressed against the stall door with his eyes rolled back, johnny was stimulating his prostate continuosly and in return he was gripping hard on johnny's meat, “you're choking my little budy down there” he put his hand on the bottom's head pushing it even more harder against the door. a smile appeared on yn's face, he loved how rough johnny was treating him. “more. more. i need moree~”.

if someone were in the bathroom right now they would think that some rabid dog would be locked in the bathroom, with the loud strange sounds and the banging against the cold metal walls. but in reality johnny was there thrashing yn around the stall, there was not a pose left for them to try or a surface that they haven't touched with their sweaty bodies. missionary, against the wall, riding, with one leg up, johnny fucking him while still grabbing him. yn's hole was already obliterated but eager to receive more.

the smell of sweat, liquor and spit make them both feel dizzy, lost in the pleasure they both craved. hickeys littered all over their collarbones, necks and torso, hell even johnny made some on yn's thigh.

the euphoric feeling made them lost trace of time and their surroundings so much that yn didn't notice that johhny's dick felt warmer and warmer by time, he could feel every vein brushing against his walls. the same happened to johnny, he felt yn's insides warmer and how they hugged his little buddy even more than before. ‘woah, condoms nowadays make you feel like you're not wearing one’ they both said it in their minds. they didn't realize the condom broke and with every thrust it slowly went down johnny’s shaft sitting in the base of it.

johnny hugged yn tightly to impale his meat even more deep and harder, “fuck yeah please like that” yn whimpered, his body squirming in pleasure. “keep doing it like that. just a bit more. yes just right there” yn said to johnny who complied to the bottom’s demands. yn came, his torso being painted in white. his body spasm with every spurt of it. he was happy, he hasn't felt this way in years, this might be the best sex of his life.

“fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny grunted, he wanted to came on yn's face but he didn't wanted to stop feeling the warm insides of the guy so ge decided to just came inside the condom. little did he knew that he was, in fact, covering those insides with his white seed. “how does it feel to have a man's seed deep inside your hole?” johnny asked nibbling on yn's neck. “it feels sticky and so wet” yn slurred, coming back from his high.

the realization hit them both right there, “what do you mean sticky and wet?” johnny looked down seeing how the broken piece of latex was on the base of his shaft while the rest of it was inside of the other, bareback. “oh god i just bred you”, “oh my god you just breed me”, johnny and yn exclaimed in unison…

they both get out of the stall, yn walked awkwardly after all his hole suffered a lot tonight. staring at themselves in the mirror with a dumbfounded expression while fixing their looks and disheveled hair. “why are we acting as if you're gonna get pregnant” johnny joked, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

“johnny, it … it was the first time someone came inside me” yn looked down feeling embarrassed but once again johnny grabbed his chin to make eye contact with him “then i guess i have to take responsibility for that baby on there” he caressed yn’s stomach. they looked at each other and then exploded in laugh, “dumbass” yn blurted out hitting johnny's shoulder lightly.

“you're way cool than it thought” yn confesses “and so wild in sex, my back side hurts a bit”.

“i also think you're cool” johnny replied politely too, “if you want, come to my hotel room. i know a home remedy to ease that pain” he gripped one of his ass cheeks, “the night is still young” he wiggled his eyebrows.

yn caught what he meant and said “oh yes of course, i would like to try it. besides i kinda want other of your babies inside me”. johnny kissed him in the lips and then in the forehead, “let's make a football team then”. they left the bathroom straight to the hotel room to chase that euphoric feeling again.

[gayaest]

i hope this isn't a weird thing to say (im sorry if it is) but the fact u have a visual impairment and still make such insane art is very cool! i love to see disabled people make art as a (non physical) disabled person myself! keep up the good work!! :3 [cat emoticon]

Hi! This isn’t weird at all, thank you for being so kind! ❤️

I should add, I definitely have a mild visual impairments compared to some, who have much more severe, so I want to acknowledge that what works for me and what I can do, is much different than what others do!

I also wanted to explain a little about my visual impairment! I have Neurological issues linked with my eyes. This causes a couple different presentations to show, and affect my eyesight in a dynamic way, sometimes is much worse than others, while other days feels relatively “normal” (if I’m wearing glasses). Otherwise, Any of my visual impairments do NOT get corrected with my glasses, which is why they are classified neurological. It isn’t a problem with my eye, rather the problem is with my nerves.

Here is an example I made of a few of the ways my visual impairment can present;

Some days are better than others, while other days, I cannot open my eyes at all or see anything beyond colors and light, and rough blurred shapes.

I do have glasses, and I have had them since I was 9 years old — but the reason that my visual impairment is different than “just needing glasses” is the fact that they aren’t fixed with my glasses, it is there whether my glasses are on or off. There is just a baseline.

This isn’t the only way it can present for me, as well. Overall, I just wanted to show how it is like for me! When drawing, I can NEVER see clean lines, it’s always blurry no matter how large of a zoom % I do, none of my work is ever “clean” and “clear” to me, but to others, apparently it is! I suppose it helps that I didn’t always have this visual impairment, so I have some muscle memory of drawing before.

I hope this makes sense!

[redrose10]

I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting. @suga-nya

<Confetti Cake Crush>

Idol Yoongi x Female Reader. Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Slight amount of angst, insecurities, hints of smut but nothing explicit

Prompts in bold

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

“Take the picture!”, you gritted through your teeth, “This cake is really heavy.” Taehyung was trying to shed to get the perfect shot but he did snap a few photos of you holding up your birthday cake at your “surprise” birthday party before Hoseok came and helped you put the cake on the table. It wasn’t really a surprise because being the executive accounting assistant you knew about all of the spending that went on at the company. When you saw a receipt for a birthday cake to be delivered on your birthday and balloons and a handwritten receipt that said birthday gift for Y/N…shhhh…don’t tell her, you knew it was coming. But it was still thoughtful and nice of them to go out of their way to set this up for you.

You couldn’t help but notice one important piece was missing though. Yoongi. Your best friend. For the last four years he had always been by your side. You hung out after work or before work if possible. Spoke on the one at least once a day. So for him to miss out on your birthday party stung a little bit.

You couldn’t say that you blamed him though. & it was the other way around there would have been no way you would have showed up to his party.

“I like you…like a lot Y/N. I uh I…I love you actually.”, he shyly said to you a week ago. You watched his ears turn bright red before he looked up at you, one of the rare times he held eye contact for more than a few seconds. You wanted to kiss him and tell him you loved him too, that you have for a while to be honest.

But his eyes looked so warm and sweet and loving and you just couldn’t be the one to hurt him so you decided to let him down early before you guys were in too deep,

“I’m…I…I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to go.”, you replied and walked out of his studio so he wouldn’t see you cry. Other than a text from him asking if you made it home safely that night you hadn’t heard from or seen him since.

“Not eating any cake?”, Namjoon asked startling you out of your day dream. “No.”, you laughed, “I saw a bunch of finger prints all over the frosting and I have a feeling they weren’t from the bakery.”, you said pointing at Jungkook and Jin manhandling the cake trying to slice and plate it.

“Yeah don’t blame you.”, he chuckled.

“Have you seen Yoongi today?”, you questioned even though you were already pretty sure of the answer, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I saw him this morning. Said something about being busy in his studio all day.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“I can’t say that I blame him. Getting rejected by one of your best friends no less is pretty rough.”

“You know about that?”, you groaned.

“Of course I know about that. We’re like brothers. We tell each other everything.”

“How is he doing Joon?”, you quietly asked.

“Well.”, he chuckled, “He’s hurt, pretty heartbroken I’d say. I mean getting rejected sucks, but he’s a big boy. He can handle it. But…what I want to know is why?”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you mean why?”

“Y/N, we all know that you’ve had a huge crush on him for a while so why did you reject him when he confessed to you? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…it’s just been something I’ve been wondering about.”

“I um I just…”, you sighed, “He’s him and I’m me. That’s all. It’s one thing for me to have a crush on him, but knowing he also liked me made it too real. I panicked.”

“What do you mean by that?”, he asked. You hated that he did things like that. He played dumb so that you would have to talk through what you were feeling. You had seen him do it a million times with the rest of the group, but now you were on the receiving end.

“You know what I mean. He’s talented, successful, rich. He’s only dated other idols who are just as talented and beautiful as he is. And I…I sit behind a desk answering phone calls and collecting paperwork and inputting numbers into a system. I’m nowhere near being on his level. What will people think of they find out we’re dating? So I rejected him for his own good. I didn’t want him to regret it one day and then we’ll both be more upset.”

The way Namjoon let out a deep belly laugh surprised you. When he saw your face of anger he quickly coughed and changed his demeanor, “Sorry sorry, but Y/N you should know better than anyone that Yoongi doesn’t care about things like that. He doesn’t care about status or money or what others think. He likes you because you’re you. And you know he doesn’t take something like confessing lightly. So if he told you he loved you that means he really does love you. He’s never told anyone that before.”

Deep down you knew he was right, but it was hard to accept. You genuinely thought you were doing the right thing by rejecting him now so it didn’t end up in heartbreak later, but you were living with immense regret ever since.

“I’m not telling you how to live your life Y/N, but …”, he said reaching over and grabbing a slice of cake with the least amount of finger prints, “You know Yoongi loves confetti cake just as much as you do.”

You got the hint he was giving and took the cake, “Thanks Joon. I’ll take this up to him and maybe have a talk.”

Normally you’d just enter in the code to his studio and let yourself in without much thought. But after the recent events doing that felt strange and that saddened you. You knocked and waited a few moments before knocking again this time a little bit harder. When he still didn’t answer you were a little impatient so you decided to put in the code and enter the studio on your own before you lost the courage you currently had.

“I told you guys I’m busy.”, he grumbled when he heard the door beep without even looking away from the computer screen.

“Too busy for cake?”, you spoke making him jump because he wasn’t expecting to hear your voice. You giggled when you saw him spin around in his chair so fast nearly falling out of it.

“Y/N, wh-what are you doing here?”

You held up the slice of cake, “It’s confetti. Our favorite!”

“Thank you. I’m uh I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. I’m just really busy and have to get this song done by the deadline and…”

“It’s okay.”, you cut him off before he could continue his rant, “I understand why you weren’t there.”

He sat down on the leather couch next to you giving a tight lipped smile, but didn’t say anything.

“Y/N”

“Yoongi”

You both laughed at the coincidence. “You first.”, you said.

He took a deep breath, “Y/N…I’m sorry about the other day. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I guess I…I guess I just misread some things between us and I thought you liked me too.”

“I do!”, you jumped up before feeling a little embarrassed and clearing your throat and sitting back down, “I mean I do like you too.”

“Then why…”, he turned to look at you, “Then why did you leave like that the other day?”

“Um…well I just thought I was doing the right thing because I didn’t want you to end up regretting it.”

“What?!”, he laughed, “I would never regret anything about you or us.”

“I know I know. It’s just that you’re you and I’m me and I didn’t see us working out in the long run because of that.”

“Mmmhhm I see now.”, he said scooting a little closer to you, “Y/N, I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I regret it one bit. I love who you are as a person. I love how kind you are and how sweet and thoughtful you are. I think you’re beautiful and smart and the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean all of that. And I can’t guarantee we’d be together forever, but I have no plans of ever letting you go.”

You buried your face into his neck feeling overwhelmed, “I love you too Yoongi.”

You could feel him shuffling around a little bit. “Hey look at me.”, he said tapping your forehead, “Happy birthday Y/N.”

You looked down at the black box wrapped in a red bow.

“I was gonna have Jimin distract you so I could put it on your desk before you left for the day.”

Excitedly you untied the bow and snapped open the black velvet box. “Wow Yoongi. It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much!”, you said handing him the necklace and turning around so he could clasp it around your neck. When he was done you looked down at the sparkly daisy pendant with a smile.

“Oh! Here have some cake!“, you said reaching for the plate, but he beat you to it.

“No, I should be feeding cake to the birthday girl.”

“But confetti cake is your favorite.”

“Yes, but it’s also your favorite too.”

The two of you bickered back and forth while fighting for control of the fork. One thing led to another and next thing you knew somehow the slice of cake toppled over and slid down your face onto your chest leaving a trail of frosting all the way down to your thighs and onto the floor.

“Oh no I’m sorry.”, he giggled while searching for a napkin to clean you up.

“No it’s okay. I don’t mind. I hate this shirt anyways.”, you giggled along with him.

“You could always take it off.”, he said while wiping away at the frosting on your cheek, “Only if you want to that is.”, he added. Both of your cheeks blushed.

Your fingers had a mind of their own as they quickly undid the buttons pulling off the scratchy material you always hated. You sat there just in your skirt and black lace bra feeling very exposed.

When you noticed Yoongi staring at you intently your cheeks heated up in embarrassment even more and you tried to hide your face with your hands, but he stopped you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”, he rasped. His voice deeper than normal.

You nodded, “Yeah a little.”

“Don’t be.”, he shook his head, “You have nothing to be nervous about around me. I think you’re beautiful Y/N. Every single bit of you.”

He leaned over and engulfed your lips into a kiss which you happily reciprocated.

“Do you want to go further?”, he pulled away to ask.

You nodded, “Yes please.”

So he pushed you back onto the couch spreading your legs to make some room for him.

He took the slice of cake smearing more of the frosting all over your body.

Then he licked at the frosting on your skin. First on your chest before moving down to your thighs. His tongue warm and soft and causing your excitement to build.

“Okay princess. Let me make this a birthday you’ll never forget.”, he smirked before undoing his belt.

He leaned in for another kiss before pulling down your skirt and tossing it somewhere in the corner of the room.

His kiss tasted like sugar and cream and vanilla and god you loved confetti cake.

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 13

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

Daniel Ricardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

warnings: mention of loosing virginity, no they’re not gonna fuck on the boat, ITS LANDOS. Smut will be marked. Reader is definitely a woman 😔☝️ For the first time, I wrote protected sex 😧

warnings in the smut part: choking, rough sex, virginity loss, use of good girl, fingering, it could be cringe for some idk

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-

“Max..” Your voice was quiet and your eyes met his “We don’t have to, we’ll go up there and take a nap or anything” You nod, he smiles gently and presses a kiss to your nose “Tell me when I’m crossing lines okay? I’m not gonna loose you because i’m selfish or anything” His tone was quiet and gentle, matching yours.

“I will. I just..” You look down. Max senses that you’re struggling, grabs the forgotten ice cream, puts it back in the freezer and takes you back upstairs.

He pulls you on your previous spot, making you lay your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry” “For what?” “We didn’t..” And we don’t have to. I literally could not care less. If you don’t want it, I don’t want it either.”

You smile at him as his thumb caressed your cheek. You sigh and press your lips together, making Max tilt his head at you “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine” He shakes his head “No. Talk to me” You shake your head “It’s okay” “No it’s not. I can only help you when you tell me what’s wrong” “Nothings really wrong..” “But?”

You sigh and fidget with a bracelet Lando had gifted you years ago “It hasn’t changed..” Max looked confused “Changed? What?” “Me, uhm..” “Well, It doesn’t really matter if you do or not. I’m still right here” You chuckle and blush at his words.

“It’s no that” His hand rests over yours “Then what?” “I asked something of you, something you didn’t want.. well..” Max face twists from confusion to realisation “You’re..you never..?” You shake your head “I didn’t know we’d end up here but I never really found anyone I trusted enough”

He stares at you “And where is the problem?” “Maybe you didn’t want-“ “You listen to me now.” He sits up “I wanted you. I want you and I will want you until I take my last breath. That’s how much you consume me. I need you in every way that you allow me to have you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be open about this, but I promise you, It’s okay. And we don’t have to. Okay? That’s not why we’re here”

He holds your face in his hands “Okay?” You nod and gently meet his lips.

“We’ve been through enough to not hide something from the other. And we’ll probably go through hell a few times. Especially when the internet catches on, but that all won’t matter cause we’ve got each other.”

You smile and nod “Okay” Max smiles too “Okay. And now we should slowly go back to land. I’m starving” You chuckle “Ay ay, captain” You smirk “Dork” He ruffles through you hair “Hey!”

He quickly kissed the top of your head and heads to turn the boat around. You watch him leading you both back to the land. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

-

yn added to their story

caption: I wish I knew what he tried there, but I have no clue @/ maxfewtrell

reply’s:

lando did he get stuck?

yn no he actually didn’t

lando ohhh, miracle

yn almost tho

alexandrasaintmleux when is your busy schedule free for me 😔

yn always, you just gotta say when you’re free 😔 I think we also need to talk about something that happened yesterday 👀

alexandrasaintmleux ohh 👀

user you and max are hanging out a lot

user you’re with max again??

-

yn and alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

(yn cap: 🦋🤍 | alex cap: 💕🌸)

“But you guys didn’t sleep with each other?” “No I couldn’t.. I mean we talked about it afterwards. And he told me that it’s okay but it doesn’t feel okay”

She smiles at you “You’re finally where you wanted to be all along. It is okay. No matter what the media, what lando, and definitely daniel says. They don’t matter. Did he give you any reason not to trust him?”

“No?” “Then talk to him again. And if you aren’t ready, then that’s okay too.” “Everyone-“ “Shut up.” You blink at her “Stop comparing yourself, please. If I had the chance again, I would’ve rather thought about who I had my first time with. But I wanted to fit in, to loose my virginity. That’s stupid tho. Do it with someone you love, and not do it when everyone tells you to lose it.”

You nod “Alright, alright. Before you start writing poems here.” You chuckle and Alex laughs “I’m sure i’ll write some about the insufferable love you two have for each other” “Me and Max? Talk about yourself with the wannabe fashionista”

“That’s mean” She says but laughs “His pants are the worst! How would you let him go out like that?” You cringe “He likes it I guess. I’ll help him here and there but..he’s expressing himself..?”

“Don’t make me feel bad “ You chuckle but pick up your phone that lit up.

“Who is it?” “Max” She smirks at you “Shut up” “I didn’t say anything” You roll your eyes “What does he want?” “Asking if I was up for dinner tonight. But keegan and morgan would be joining if I was okay with it”

“But you wanted to talk to him” “I’m not gonna talk to him about him talking my virginity in public, Alex!” You whisper yell. She shrugs and you roll your eyes again.

“Maybe you won’t even have to talk” She smirks again “Alex” You whine “Do you trust him?” “Yes” “Do you want it to be him?” “Yes” She smiles as she sips her coffee.

“We’ll see what happens” “Just don’t panic. You’ll be okay.” you nod “Thank you alex” “You know I won’t judge” She winks.

-

maxfewtrell

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, angryginge13 and 625.836 others

maxfewtrell recently 🌺👀

user WHO IS THAT

lando I still beat you.

maxfewtrell 🙄🙄

angryginge13 not surprised. He was ogling his girlfriend the entire time

maxfewtrell I was not

lando you were.

user let us innnn

user he looks so happy omg

user this is so cute

user handplacement 🥹

-

You kicked off your heels in the hallway and made your way to the living room. You flopped down onto the couch and you hear a chuckle from behind you “Told you to wear other shoes.” “But others wouldn’t have fit to my outfit” You pout.

“Then you should’ve changed” “So you don’t like my outfit?” “Oh trust me, I love it” You blush a bit as he sits next to you, hand on your knee.

“How was the meet up with Alexandra? More gossip?” “Maybe” Max smiled and closed his eyes. His head rested on the back of the couch as you watched him.

“Everything okay?” He mumbled a few moments later and opened one eye to look at you “yeah, i’m okay” You smile warmly. He smiles, closes his eye and gently strokes your leg.

Either he hasn’t noticed, or he’s doing it on purpose but with each stoke, his hand itched higher and higher. When he got to your thigh, your breath hitched.

You saw max’s lips twitch upwards slightly. His thumb makes a soothing motion over your inner thigh, which isn’t soothing at all (Ykyk that feeling).

“Fewtrell.” He hums “What are you doing?” “I’m not doing anything” He turns his head and looks at you with an innocent smile “I know exactly what you’re doing.” “Then why are you asking?”

* Smut until the next mark *

“Don’t play with me, Fewtrell” “No? But I thought that’s exactly what you wanted” You glare at him “Maybe I don’t want it anymore” He chuckled “No? Then why is my hand trapped between your thighs?” He smirks. Fuck, you hadn’t even noticed that your thighs were pressed together.

You look up at him with a faint blush on your cheeks. His free hand cups your cheek “Tell me to stop and I will” You shake your head “Don’t” “No? You sure” You nod and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes”

That’s all it took for max to let his restraint go. His lips crash into yours “Tell me if I make you uncomfortable or-“ “Just shut up” You breath out. He chuckled, pulled his hand from between your thighs and climbed over you.

His hands were next to your head, yours finding their place on his sides “Max” You say quietly as his lips gently glide over your jaw “Hm?” You raise your hands to his cheeks and pull him in for another kiss.

One hand slowly wanders down to the first button on his shirt, which he catches in his hand. You look at him puzzled “I’m not fucking you on your couch” “Why not?” “Not happening”

He gets up and throws you over his shoulder as if you weighted nothing “Max! What the fuck!” “You’ll live.” You chuckle as he makes his way to your bedroom.

He gently sets you down on the bed and doesn’t restrain your hands from opening his shirt this time. He watched every move of your hands and looks right into your eyes as you push the dress shirt off him.

He lets it fall to the floor as he leans over you again, his lips almost touching yours “Still okay?” “yes” You lean up the last bit to kiss him, making him smile into the kiss.

One of his hands trace your back “Wanna keep it on or can I..” Max eyes you for a moment, keeping alert for any possible discomfort. You breath for a moment “It’s okay” You say quietly.

He smiles and gently opens your dress. It falls of your shoulders as he pulls you up by your hands and strips you off the dress completely.

His eyes roam your body, but instead of being embarrassed, it’s sends a warm sensation through your body.

“Got your wish after all, huh?” He chuckled “Shut up and hurry up” “Patience baby. Everything at its time” You roll your eyes but yelp as Max pushes you back on the bed.

“Up” He says and you move more upwards on the bed as he towers over you. His lips find your jaw once again while one of his hands roams your form.

He trails down your body, keeping eye contact. “Max, please. Don’t tease” “I’m not teasing, i’m enjoying” His hands slide up your sides and stop at your bra “Can I take it off?” You nod and Max opens your bra and throws it off the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmured against your skin. His hands gently knead your tits and smirks as you let out a gasp.

He comes up to your ear, gently biting under it, earning a muffled moan “Has anyone ever touched you, baby?” You shake your head, breathless “No? Oh fuck” He chuckled and let his head fall forward for a moment.

Max composed himself again as his hands travel down to the last piece of clothing that’s covering you. He looks at you and you nod. He raised an eyebrow “Yes, max for fucks sake. Stop asking and do something, please”

He smirked and pulled down your underwear, leaving you bare in front of him. You tug at his pants “No, not yet” He gently guides your hand above your head “This is about you, not me” You whine “You can have me later, let me make my stupid decision up, hmm?”

He gently glides two fingers through your folds. You bite your lip to keep your moans quiet, but Max wasn’t having any of it.

“Let me hear you, otherwise I’ll stop” He pulls his hand away and you buckle your hips upwards, which was quickly shut down by max shoving and holding your hips down.

His fingers find your clit and circle it slowly. One of your hands grabs max’s arm. He smiles and speeds up slowly. Your breathing was already unsteady but it wasn’t enough “Max, please” “Use your words. What do you want?”

You blush and clench your jaw “I’m not a mind reader, you gotta tell me” “Your fingers” “oh yeah?” You nod eagerly “Well, who am I to deny you that” He slowly inserts one of his fingers and watches your face for any discomfort.

When he doesn’t find any, he curves his finger upwards. You moan and thighten your grip on his arm “More, please Max” He inserts another finger into you and picks up the pace.

He keeps his thumb on your clit, kissing your thighs in the process. You moan out his name, nothing else than him filling your mind.

“What a good girl” Max raised an eyebrow as you clenched around his fingers “Oh? You like when I call you that?” You blush and hide your face in your hands.

“Don’t hide yourself, come on Baby” He peels your hands away “Eyes on me. You wanna cum on my fingers?” You nod “Yeah? You think you can handle my cock too?” You nod eagerly “Yes, I can”

Max smirks, picking up the speed again and you whine “Aw, are you sensitive?” You push your head backwards into the pillow.

The squelch of the movement inside of you is the only noise filling the room for a moment, making you fist the blanket and max’s arm.

“So good- Max! ‘m close” “Yeah? I’ve got you, cum all over my fingers. Need it” He says and bites the inside your thigh.

The pain pushes you over the edge, your nails digging into Max’s arm.

He slowed down his pace, letting you ride out your high. He pulls out and wipes his fingers on his pants, his free hand gently stroking your abdomen.

You look at him, catching your breath, hair sticking to your forehead. Max chuckled “If you look this fucked out on my fingers, I wonder what my cock does to to you”

You bite your lip and reach out to him, fingers hooking into his belt. Max raised his eyebrows at you but smirks “Go ahead” He nods and you unbuckle his belt. He moves backwards on the bed to stand back up and take his pants off.

“You’re still clothed” You say, sitting on your knees now, tilting your head and pointing at his boxers. Max chuckled “Impatient, are we?” He smirks but you cross your arms “Alright, alright” He chuckled, taking off his underwear too and crawling back above you, pushing you back on your back.

You hold the eye contact but flicker to his lips. His hands reached for the nightstand and takes something off it. “You wanna do it?” You look at the condom. Where the hell did that thing come from and when did he even place it there?

But your thoughts were interrupted when max kissed your jaw “Hm?” “I wanna do it” You whisper “Alright then” He holds the pack up to your mouth and you gently grab it with your teeth, to not damage anything.

You both sit back up, and you rip open the package. You place it on his cock and out of the corner of your eye you can see his hands clenching, holding back from touching you. You smirks and roll the condom down.

Max squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled a quiet ‘fuck’ You keep moving your hand up and down his cock “Sweetheart, no- oh fuck” You thighten your grip slightly, making Max gasp.

“That’s not what- oh” His breath quickens “I’m just making sure it’s on properly” You smile innocently, and before you can say anything else, his hand grips your throat “You’re a minx. I’d be careful if I was you” “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

He smirks slowly and clenched his jaw “Nothing today. This is about you, but don’t think I’ll forget you being a little brat.”

You raise your eyebrows “Me? I would never” “You’ve never and you still..” Max cuts himself off “I forgot, you read” You smile “Not so innocent, are you baby?” He smiles and pulls you in by your throat.

His lips press against yours and he pulls away again, making you try and chase him, which doesn’t work with his hand around your throat.

He gently pushes you back down and presses gentle kisses around your neck, keeping your hips still with his hands.

“Max, please” He raised an eyebrow “Stop teasing. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know what I want. Please, I thought you wanted to make it up to me? “ You whine, making him press his lips together, nodding “I know, I know sweetheart. You’ll get what you want”

He lines himself up with you but looks up first “Tell me to go slower or stop, okay? You got the control on the pace” You nod, hand wrapping around his bicep.

He slowly pushes in, making you gasp. Your nails dig into his arm, making him hiss. Your scrunch your eyebrows together “Wait-fuck. A moment, please” Max stops immediately and looks up “You okay?” You nod “Just need a moment”

He nods and waits for your cue to move again. Your mouth opens in a soundless moan, which makes Max wrap his hand around your throat once again “Come on, don’t go shy on me now, Pretty girl. Let me hear you” You try to stop the restrain on your moans and Max stills inside you, once he’s in by the hilt.

“You tell me when to move, okay?” You nod, pulling him down for a kiss, your fingers tangling into his hair.

“Okay, you can move” He slowly pulls out and trusts back in. Your eyes widen as he continues the movement “Holy- Max” He chuckles and leans his head next to your ear, making you listen to his breathing.

“How are you feeling?” He says, quickly pecking your cheek “Good” “Yeah? Feels good?” You nod, eyes occasionally rolling into the back of your head.

“Told you we should’ve done this earlier- fuck” You grad the arm that is wrapped around your throat “Yeah? Bet you would’ve loved to be fucked everywhere, hm? Having to keep quiet if I actually fucked you in my drivers room, your own room or mine? Or on the italy vacation?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about” You get out between moans “No? Running around in those dresses, my god. And bending over every time I was around you? Total accident i’m sure” He growls, thightening his hold on your throat.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head once again at his action “you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you? If you like me chocking you, what else is it I will find when I fuck you, hm?” He smirks as you blush “Always the ones you thought were innocent” He chuckled as you silenced him with a kiss.

“Please, faster” Max gladly listens, picking up his pace and reaching down to play with your clit “Max- Oh god”

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this to you. I don’t know how I kept away from you, but I won’t ever be able to ever again” Max’s breath gets heavier and his head hangs down.

“Harder” “Baby im already-“ “You’re not gonna break me” He lets out a breathless laugh “Jesus, you’re gonna be the death of me” He obliged either way and soon you could feel the pleasure creeping up on you.

Max felt your repeatedly clenching around him as his thrusts don’t falter “Are you close? Can feel you squeezing me so- oh my- fucking tight” You nod “Yeah? Wanna come on my cock? Be a good girl?” “Yeah, wanna be good- fuck”

He smirks at the effect he has on you, but his expression quickly turns into concern as tears roll down your cheeks and he starts to slow down “Hey-hey are you okay?” “Don’t stop, please max. Fuck, keep going”

It was then he realised you were crying because it just felt good “Not hurting, please I’m so close” He nods and picks up his pace again.

This time he picks up your hips a bit which earns him a loud moan “Oh- right there, max” He chuckled but continued pounding into you, as his own orgasm crept up on him.

“Yeah? Finally found it” He says more to himself than you but tries to continually hitting the spot, over and over again.

“Gonna cum, max. Don’t stop, don’t-“ “I won’t, let go baby. I got you, be a good girl” You pulled him down into a heated kiss as white hot please consumed every fibre of your body, your other hand gripping his shoulder, marking another part of him.

Your orgasm triggered his own and his hands grip your hips, probably bruising them slightly in the process.

His forehead rests on yours as you slowly come down from your high. Max slowly pulls out, which earns him a quiet hiss of you.

“Sorry” he mumbled and pulled the condom off to throw it in the trash.

* smut end * holy cow that was long 😭 Anyway.

“You want a bath or just lay here” Max whispered as he cuddled up to you “Just a moment. But a bath sounds nice too” “I’ll quickly turn on the water and be right back” You nod with closed eyes.

A few moments later you hear the water running and Max is back in the room, now in sweatpants “Why are you wearing those?” “Do you know how weird it feels to walk around naked?” He laughs and crawls back to you, pulling you onto his chest “Don’t fall asleep on me now. We still gotta clean you up”

“How can I not when you brush through my hair like that and cuddle me” You mumble “To bad, sweetheart. Still gonna have the bath” You don’t move and max laughs “Do I have to carry you?” “Mhm”

He chuckled again but picks you up “Let’s go then” You keep your eyes closed, leaning on his shoulder. “Can you open the door? My hands are quite occupied”

You smile and open the door. The warmth of the room immediately makes you feel even sleepier. He sets you down for a moment and closes the door.

“Come on, hop hop in there” “Don’t rush me” You say and hold a hand out “Yeah yeah” He picks you back up and you squeal “Max!” He slowly sets you down in the bathtub. He sits beside the tub and holds your hand, head resting on the side and looking at you.

“You’re staring.” “I know. But do you really care?” “No” You smile and look at him. His smile widens “Good.” He sits up properly to kiss you. Your hand draws shapes on his shoulder “Oh” “Hm?”

You chuckle “Did I do that?” You point to the countless scratches on his arms and shoulders “I think you did, yeah” He laughs “Even down here!” He looks at the lower part of his arm “How am I supposed to hide that?”

“Hoodie?” He looks at you deadpan “Hoodie? It’s like.. super hot outside?” “Then you’ll be smoking hot” He chuckled “You’re crazy” “Yet you’re still sitting here” Max nods “Yeah, somehow” You roll your eyes and lay back down.

comfortable silence fills the room. Max’s hand gently caressed your face as you calm down. You were right were you wanted to be, without any disturbance..right?

-

Holy shit. It’s been a while since I wrote smut, so go easy on me. Part 14 is still coming out tomorrow, no worries about that 🤭

[vinylfoxbooks]

February 7 - Cauldron  February 8 - Breath/Breathe @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 1,193

“I had plans tonight,” Regulus grumbles, scrubbing at the table, “But then you had to go on and do your thing, talking to my stupid brother instead of paying attention to what you were doing and you fucking blew up the potion.” 

James, as much as they’ve been trying to tune out Regulus’ anger, doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s the only other thing that they can hear other than the horrid sound of the harsh scrubber rubbing against the rough side of the cauldron they’re leaning into, practically folded in half at the waist to scrub the grime off the bottom of it. But they’re already feeling guilty enough about it, and this is just making it worse. 

“I’m sorry,” they mutter, low. They’re not even sure Regulus can hear it, but with the way that their faint voice echoes in the cauldron, there’s a possibility. 

They know that he’s heard it when he suddenly stops his angered ranting, and there’s silence other than the abhorrent sounds of cleaning and scrubbing. They take in a deep breath and push their torse out of the cauldron. They don’t turn to look at him, instead just walking to the bucket and cleaning off their scraper sponge, “I wasn’t trying to blow it up. I was-” they shake their head, “I know that you put me on reading and stirring because it’s the ‘only thing that I can do right’ but I can’t even do reading right. That’s why I liked to be paired up with Remus because he can read and instruct me in a way that’s clear to me, but their new relationship has Sirius hogging him as a potions partner.” They swallow thickly, walking back to the cauldron but not climbing inside of it quite yet. Instead they take to scrubbing at the lip of it. 

They’re quiet for a moment, “It’s just that… sometimes when I’m reading the words get all wiggly and run together and suddenly they stop making any sense and it hurts my eyes and my head. So I’ll usually ask Remus to read for me. That’s-” they finally chance a glance up at Regulus, he’s looking back at them, “that’s what happened. And you were busy chopping the leaves just right and I knew that you would just get after me for asking for clarification so I turned to Remus. But Remus was distracted keeping Sirius from blowing up their own potions and-” they take a deep breath, realising that they had been forgetting to take in full breaths, “I don’t- I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry and I really didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“Potter,” Regulus says, his own voice now quiet and much softer than it was before. Yet it’s intentional, “Breathe.” He puts his own rag down on the table and takes a couple steps towards them, “I get it, you don’t have to try and over-explain yourself. I-” he swallows, James can’t take their eyes off of him now that he’s speaking directly to him and not just grumbling to himself. He takes another step closer, “I’m so- I should’ve asked for what you wanted to do instead of just putting you into a role. I don’t- I clearly didn’t understand how you best operate and so all of this was partially my fault.”

James shakes their head, taking that for the apology that it is, “It’s fine. I should’ve said something about it earlier. Or pushes that I be partnered with Remus because I know that it’s better. I can handle SIius’ pouting for a couple hours.” 

“Don’t pretend like I’m not at fault for this.” Regulus shakes his head, “I didn’t give you a voice or listen to you and I made myself unapproachable. Then I’ev just been shitting on you…” he looks around at the classroom, “We’re close to being done, you can leave early and I’ll finish up and cover for you if Slughorn comes back.” 

James looks at him alarmed, “No, I’m not leaving. You don’t have to do that for me. Like you said, we’re almost done and you said that you had plans. Maybe if we finish up faster than you can still get to them.” And with that, they’re turning back around and once again leaning over the cauldron. It’s one of the last ones that they need to do and they know that their back is going to kill them for this. 

Regulus is quiet for a while, not moving, before he finally goes back to the table he was cleaning and resumes his work. He huffs, “You’re far too nice for your own good, do you know?” 

James laughs weakly, “A lot of people say that, but I’m not really. I’m nice to people that I care about or want to like me, but I’m- I can be a dick to people who I don’t want around me, which is actually a lot of people.”

“If you say so,” Regulus says, James isn’t shocked, not a lot of people believe them unless they actually see it, “But you’re too nice after everything I’ve said and done to you.” 

They shrug with one shoulder, even if Regulus can’t see it, “You grew up in a bad home and you only know how to be mean to protect yourself. Believe it or not, Sirius treated us really shitty for the first several months of us living together before we finally got it in his head that we weren’t going to take his bullshit and that we didn’t deserve being treated like that. I figure you’re the same way and I’ve gone through it once, I can do it again. I also know that I’ve been quick with you before so we’re even.” Then they mutter, low enough that they hope Regulus can’t hear it, “Besides, I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“What was that last part?” 

“Nothing.” James shakes their head. 

Neither of them talk for the rest of the detention period. But when James is telling Regulus that if he hurries he might still be able to get to his plans, that it’s not too late, Regulus shakes his head and says that he’s going to walk James up to the Gryffindor Tower as sort of a ‘make up’. James insists that they don’t need one, but Regulus insists. 

So they head up to the Gryffindor Tower and Regulus manages to grind out an apology to James when they get to the Fat Lady’s portrait. Then he turns on his heels and storms away before they can really process what’s just happened. James stands in the corridor for a moment before finally turning and getting let in, not without a pointed look from the Fat Lady. 

The others are waiting in the common room for James, and Sirius immediately stands up, “How was it? I hope Reggie wasn’t too hard on you.” 

Remus nods, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be your partner this time.” 

“Mhm, I’ll never hog him again.” 

James laughs softly, thinking back on the past hour, “It’s- it was n’t that bad guys, I promise.”

[darnell-la]

Hopefully not to gross. But, I just have been thinking about Logan forcing his cock down his girls throat but he’s so big and rough it makes her vomit. Then instantly going from rough to apologetic when she’s upset

note: PLEASE READ ^^ this is unlike any story we have posted before, and we’d like to make sure whoever reads this will not give any kind of complaints. Thank you!

———

“C’mere,” Logan grabbed a handful of y/n’a hair and pulled her into the bathroom. They had been arguing for what felt like hours in an empty hallway about the mission Logan almost blew because of the way another man touched y/n’s hip.

“Logan, we’re undercover — Shit happens!” Y/n shouted at the man, which instantly put her on her knees. “Don’t fucking care,” Logan growled between his teeth as he reached into his pants to pull himself out.

“Logan, we’re working-“ Before y/n could’ve finished her sentence, the man pushed through her lips. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was still hung. That was one good dangerous thing about him.

“You think you’d enjoy this if it was him? Huh!?” Logan asked as he snapped his hips, making sure all that came out of y/n’s mouth were moans and saliva that made its way down her jaw.

“Oh, and believe I’ll send you right back out there to him, looking just like this,” Logan said as he wiped across y/n’s face a few times, smearing her makeup until she started slapping his hands away.

“Now do you think he’ll still want you after seeing you like this? Huh? Huh!?” The man asked as he kept pounding into y/n’s mouth relentlessly.

“No, he won’t — Only I like you like this, Bub, and only I can fucking see you like this,” Logan said right as his cock twitch. As soon as he got fully hard down y/n’s throat, he couldn’t hold himself back.

Y/n slapped Y/n Logan’s lower stomach, trying to tell him that she couldn’t breathe and that he was too far down her mouth, but he wouldn’t put his thrusts to a halt.

“Right there,” Logan growled as he spilled into her mouth. It felt good for a while until y/n began to cough. Within seconds, everything came up, and out of her mouth.

Logan quickly pulled back, not knowing what happened first until he watched her vomit over the bathroom floor.

“Oh, shit,” Logan said as he got to his knees and put a hand on her back to comfort her in some way. The man shook as y/n got everything out that needed to come out.

“Fuck, y/n- I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking-“ Logan tried saying until he was pushed away. “Fuck off!” Y/n’s voice died halfway through her speaking. She could feel the slight pain, and taste of what she had just let out.

“Baby, I didn’t- Baby, I’m sorry,” Logan said as he got up and got a bunch of wipes from the cabinet that was in the fancy bathroom. “Are you okay? Babe, please speak to me — Tell me, are you okay?” Logan asked as he began cleaning the floor.

Y/n didn’t answer the man. She continued coughing to make sure everything was out of her system.

Tears filled Logan’s eyes, feeling like he had done something he could never come back from. “Baby, please — I’m so sorry,” Logan said as he grabbed y/n’s face softly to wipe her down and clean her up.

“I-I didn’t know you couldn’t take it — I was just- I was thinking of myself and thought you’d be okay, because we always go through, and I couldn’t think about another man on you, and I just-“

“Logan, shut up! Please, just- God, relax — I’ll be fine,” y/n grabbed some towels from Logan before pushing him away. “God, you’re just so fucking annoying,” was all y/n could say.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, wanting to break down right then and there. Y/n looked at Logan, hoping he wasn’t actually crying, but he was. That instantly made her roll her eyes and pull him into a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Y/n said as she softly rubbed Logan’s back. Logan couldn't stop apologizing and bringing up how horrible of a person he was for not seeing the signs of her actual struggle, but she shut him down quick.

“Hey, I’m fine with you being rough — Just make sure it’s not after I eat ten deviled eggs,” y/n joked, making Logan let out a slight laugh, but he still didn’t feel too great.

“Let’s just go back to the hotel — He’ll be here tomorrow,”

[come-as-you-are-111]

do a minsu x reader where minsu cry’s over smth and reader hugs and comforts him because he isn’t afraid to cry and he falls in love with her cause she i kind and sweet and she’s had a crush on him

Falling For You

Warnings: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!

The dorm is quieter than usual. It’s one of those rare moments between games where no one is talking, no one is fighting—just the sound of slow breathing, the occasional rustle of blankets, and the quiet weight of survival sinking in.

And then, you see him.

Min-Su sits on the edge of his bunk, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands are clasped together, fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his jumpsuit. His head is bowed low, his shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

You hesitate.

It’s not often you see someone openly upset here. People usually swallow their emotions, bury them deep down, because in the Squid Game, weakness is dangerous. It’s a place that forces you to be numb, to pretend you don’t feel a damn thing.

But Min-Su isn’t like the others.

He always felt things deeply, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. And that’s exactly why you’re drawn to him.

Taking a quiet step closer, you lower your voice. “Min-Su?”

His head lifts slightly, and even in the dim light, you catch the faint shine of tears before he quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rough, unsteady. “I know it’s stupid to get emotional here.”

Your heart clenches. “It’s not stupid.”

You sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes his, but you don’t press him to talk. You just wait, letting him decide if he wants to let you in.

For a moment, all he does is exhale slowly, rubbing a hand down his face before finally whispering, “It’s just… everything. The games. The people we’ve lost. And I keep wondering if I’ll make it out—if any of us will.”

He shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “I don’t want to be another nameless body on the floor.”

There’s something so heartbreakingly human in the way he says it, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out—your fingers gently curling around his hand.

His breath hitches at the contact, his gaze flickering to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans into it, like he needs it.

And then you move without thinking, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a firm, warm embrace.

At first, he freezes, like he���s not used to this kind of comfort. But then, ever so slowly, he lets go—his hands gripping the back of your jumpsuit as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breath is warm against your shoulder, uneven, but he doesn’t hide it. He doesn’t try to mask the way his body trembles slightly against yours.

“I hate that we’re stuck in this place,” you murmur against his shoulder. “But I’m glad I met you.”

His arms tighten around you, as if those words alone are enough to steady him. When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours—soft, vulnerable, something unspoken lingering between you.

“You mean that?”

You nod, your heart hammering.

You’d had a crush on Min-Su since the moment you first spoke to him—since you realized he wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t selfish. He cared.

And right now, looking at you like this, something in his gaze shifts—like he’s seeing you in a way he never has before.

“You’re too kind for this place,” he whispers, his fingers still gently holding onto your sleeve. “That’s why I—” He stops himself, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your stomach flips, warmth spreading through your chest, but it’s more than just a crush now. It’s something real, something that exists despite the chaos around you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you squeeze his hand. “Then at least we’re in this together.”

And for the first time in days, he smiles.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First min-su fic and this request is honestly so cute and I just knew I had to do it! If you have any request send em in!

Love ya, Twilight

squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[kayawolfhorse]

The sun sets molten across the server, brushing the horizon in strokes of fiery reds and sickly, lurid golds. Rivulets of light drip sluggishly between the boughs of the dark oaks around Grian and glint against the diamond blade held loose at his side—a mere precaution, in this space between one held breath and the next. The night is young enough to have not yet spawned its monsters, and evenings are an agreed-upon respite this early in the game.

Grian flexes his hand around the sword as he walks. As newly-crafted as it is, the leather grip is still stiff, and it cuts a hard crease into where his time ticks away between the green lines of his palm. The heart and the life lines, he vaguely recalls, working in tandem to cease the pulse at his wrist. Who had told him that? It doesn’t matter.

The din of the day has faded into a buzzing hum that reverberates across Grian’s nerves. His shoulders feel pinched within the confines of the jacket Joel had wrangled him into. The grass doesn’t sound quite right beneath his soles. There is a sense of wrongness that clings to the back of his neck.

“Fancy seeing you here!”

His blade is at Scar’s throat before Grian can register the movement. “Scar!” He lowers his arm and glares. He does not put the sword away. “You can’t do that to a man.”

Scar’s grin is far too crooked to be anything close to the sheepishness he tries to sell it as. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, meaning approximately none of it. “Beautiful day we’re having, isn’t it? Would you just feel that breeze! The air is ripe with opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” Grian says drily. “Were you following me?”

“It’s all coincidences, Grian, all coincidence,” Scar says with a wink. His tinted glasses are perched rather precariously on his face. Behind them, in such low light, his eyes look odd. “I just happened to be in the area! That sword is completely unnecessary, by the way.”

“Do you want something? Is that what this is?”

“Can’t a guy just visit with his favorite bread bridge boy?”

“Bad Boy,” Grian corrects, and immediately wonders why he bothers. “And anyway, I’m hardly on favorite grounds.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Scar waves him away, and his striped shirt—predominantly buttoned for once—ripples with it. “Joel’s definitely crossed off the potential list, we can rule him out. Jimmy and you are about even on the mischief meter, but between you and me, you wear those sunglasses better.”

Grian wrinkles his nose. “They weren’t my idea.”

“And yet here you are, wearing sunglasses after the sun’s gone down.”

“On my head.” Grian gestures at where they’re propped in his hair to emphasize his point. “You’re over here actually wearing yours. Why are they blue, anyway? That’s got to make the world look weird.”

“Oh, they do,” Scar agrees. He slides off his glasses and takes a moment to consider them before, without warning, turning them around and sticking them on Grian’s face.

Grian’s sputtering protest dies in his throat as Scar adjusts where the glasses lay behind his left ear, brushing the shell of it in the process. Scar’s skin is rough with callouses and his touch is gentle. Grian is suddenly, inexplicably warm.

Once satisfied with his work, Scar takes a step back and tilts his head. The blue tint of the glasses does color the world strangely, but every observation of it is taken from Grian’s peripheral; his field of vision seems to have narrowed to encompass Scar alone. Like this, his eyes appear sea-green, and it’s nicer than the near-fluorescent shade his current life gives him, but Grian can’t help but think of kinder worlds and the lovely, lively emerald they bring with them.

“Well?” Scar prompts.

After Grian’s remembered how to breathe, he huffs at Scar. “Now I’m wearing two pairs of stupid glasses—hey!”

Scar steals Grian’s sunglasses and slides them into his own hair, and it’s stupid, really, how well he pulls them off. He strikes a pose and asks, “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot,” Grian deadpans, but the quirk of his lip betrays the straight face he’s trying to keep. This is the problem with Scar: no matter what may lie between them, regardless of the sides they stand on, it never takes Scar long to slip between the barbs of Grian’s scowl and soften the points into a smile.

Scar is entirely too aware of such an issue for Grian’s personal liking, if how his eyes crinkle at the corners is anything to go by. “A matching pair we make, then!”

“Hey, now, don’t go lumping me into this.” Grian’s sure the blue glasses look silly on him without the context of the rest of Scar’s get-up.

From a nearby tree, a spider leaps towards them with its mandibles splayed. Grian strikes it down in two hits; after it disappears, he turns to raise an eyebrow at Scar.

“Maybe the sword had some use,” Scar concedes, “but not against me!”

“We’re both green; I wouldn’t have killed you anyway,” Grian remarks.

“Of course, of course, that comes later.” Scar is easily wry and comfortably teasing.

“Of course.” Grian smirks. The night is dark. The faint, flickering light of a nearby torch illuminates Scar’s lingering smile—a small, private thing, accompanied by a slight pitch in his brow. Grian’s voice comes out lower than he means it to as he says, “Best be getting back, yeah? You wouldn’t want to lose time to some old skeleton.”

“Bedtime waits for no man.” Scar nods. “Especially if you’re teamed with Bdubs.”

Grian laughs. His fingers twitch at his side for something he can’t name but feels twisting in his chest. “Goodnight, Scar.”

“Goodnight, Grian!” With one last flash of his teeth, Scar’s unprotected back recedes further into the forest as he heads for the Clockers’ base. A beat passes, then another, as Grian’s feet remain rooted in place.

Nearby rattling shakes him of his stupor. Sighing, Grian passes a hand over his face as he starts in the direction of the bridge. Belatedly, he realizes he’s still wearing Scar’s glasses.

He folds them carefully into his pocket before he reaches the Bread Bridge. The world’s strangeness no longer has the justification of a filtered view. The stars don’t look quite right above him.

Before beginning the climb to the half-burnt mansion’s roof, Grian lightly touches the glasses’ translucent rim. He does not think about too-green eyes and too-indulgent smiles. He does not think about blood that always stains the same.

He’ll give the glasses back tomorrow.

[supernotnatural2005]

Headcanon: Comforting you after a loss.

Pairing: Dean x reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of loss, angst, fluff, established relationships

AN: This is just a little something for @jackles010378, I'm sorry you're going through a difficult time, and hope this cheers you up some ❤️

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester

Dean isn’t great with words when it comes to grief—he knows there’s nothing he can say to take your pain away.

But he’s damn sure not going to let you go through it alone.

The moment he sees the heartbreak in your eyes, he'll pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to your crown.

He would stay like that for as long as you needed, grounding you in his warmth, his security.

In the following days, he would watch over you like a hawk—not smothering, but making sure you’re eating, drinking, and not shutting down completely.

He’ll cook you your favourite food, even run in to town to get you your favourite cheeseburger if that's what you wanted.

If you can’t sleep, neither does he. He’ll stay up, letting you rest against him, running his fingers through your hair until it finally lulled you to sleep

And when the grief feels unbearable, when you finally break down in front of him, he'll just hold you, whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be strong for me, baby. Just let it out. I’m right here.”

He never rushes your healing, never tries to fix what can’t be fixed—he just loves you through it, in the way only Dean Winchester can.

Beau Arlen

Beau doesn’t pretend to have all the answers, but he knows one thing for sure—you’re his, and he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

The first thing he does is hold you.

Not just some half-hearted hug—no, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your temple, your cheek, your forehead.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he'll murmur, his voice thick with emotion. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He checks on you constantly—bringing you coffee, making sure you eat, running his fingers over your back in soothing circles when you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed.

And when the silence in the house feels too heavy, he takes you on a drive—windows down, his hand resting over yours on the gearshift.

“Just us, baby,” he says softly. “Breathe.”

At night, when the weight of your grief is too much, he pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against him.

“I wish I could take this pain away from you,” he admits, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “But I’ll carry as much of it as I can, darlin’.”

He'll hold you for as long as you need, whispering sweet reassurances between soft, lingering kisses, letting you cry into his chest if that’s what you need.

Beau Arlen isn’t just your man—he’s your safe place, and he’ll spend every day reminding you of that.

Soldier Boy/Ben

Gif by @becauseofthebowties

Ben doesn’t do emotions. Not really.

He’s spent decades brushing off pain, cracking jokes, and punching his way through problems.

People cry? He rolls his eyes. People break down? He walks the other way. That’s just how he is.

But you? You’re different.

When he sees you hurting, something inside him tightens, and for once, he doesn’t have some snarky comment locked and loaded.

Instead, he stands there, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, unsure of what the hell he’s supposed to do.

At first, he tries to be himself about it—gruff, no-nonsense.

“Hey, shit happens. People die, the world keeps turning.”

But when you don’t react, when you just sit there looking so damn lost, he feels something foreign creeping in. Worry.

So, he does the only thing he can think of—he pulls you into his arms, tight, unyielding. His grip is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. 

“I got you, baby,” he mutters against your hair, his voice rough but lacking its usual edge. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

He’s awkward about it—comfort isn’t his thing—but for you, he tries.

He sticks close, hovering even when he pretends he’s not. He won’t outright ask if you’re okay, but suddenly, he’s around more.

Sitting next to you, brushing his fingers against yours, silently daring you to take his hand.

When the grief finally crashes over you, when you collapse against him in sobs, he stiffens at first—old instincts screaming at him to run.

But then he melts, wrapping you up in his arms, pressing rough kisses to the top of your head.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. "I got you.”

That night, he doesn’t leave your side. He pulls you into his chest, holds you close, fingers tangled in your hair.

“You’re not alone, doll,” he whispers, voice raw. “Not anymore.”

And maybe he’s never said those words before, but for once, he means every damn one of them.

AN: Okay so this was a new one for me. A first try at Headcanon's 😅 I hope I've done it justice and cheered you up a little @jackles010378 ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy/Ben Tag List:

@happyfxckinghorrors @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @bettystonewell @nancymcl @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @paganvamp @deans-baby-momma @ladykitana90 @riteofpassage77 @jackles010378 @spnaquakindgdom

[https-bakugou]

Strawberry Turnovers Part Two / (Bakugou x GN! Reader)

NOTE: What did I even write. I acc hate this so much wtf

Katsuki glowered at his phone like the object itself had done something to tick him off personally. He grumbled, stuffing the device into his pocket. Katsuki carefully eyed the pastries sitting comfortably in their glass cases.

Strawberry turnovers.

“JUST GET ME ONE OF THOSE STRAWBERRY THINGIES.” You had yelled at him over text. Somehow the thought of you shooting back with the same amount of fire he had made the corner of his mouth quip up in a soft smile. There was no one else he could think of that could fight his fire with fire and make him feel all warm and fuzzy and gross at the same time.

“Uhm.. excuse me-” A timid man whispered, walking up to him. The smile dropped from Katsuki’s face and he narrowed his red eyes at him. “Spit it the fuck out extra. I don’t have all day.” He hissed and the man yelped, grabbing his phone from his pocket and bowing quickly. “I-I’m so sorry Mr Dynamight sir- I just wanted to ask if I could take a picture with you? It’s for my daughter and- you’re her favourite hero and-” 

“Jesus Christ. For fuck’s sake. You’re damn lucky you caught me in a good mood otherwise I would’ve blown your ass halfway to hell for wasting my fucking time with that stammering bullshit.” He spat, reaching for the man’s phone - who then began to stammer out an obscene amount of gracious ‘Thank you’s’.

Katsuki glared at the camera as the man snapped the picture, pulling away to quickly thank him some more. The young hero merely rolled his eyes and huffed out a ‘Yea yea now piss off.’ Before pulling his chair out and walking to the front of the bakery. Any more of this sucking up to the public and his PR team would think he was hit by a quirk that was making him soft. And knowing his PR team, they’d wheel him right to the hospital to make sure that their mean and rough around the edges boss continued to act like he had a stick up his ass every morning.

It was painstakingly obvious

Dynamight didn’t do photos. 

Dynamight didn’t do autographs either.

Maybe Dynamight didn’t do public shit, but Katsuki had a soft spot for his younger fans.

-

Bakugou pushed the bakery door open and he sighed, holding onto the box of pastries. 

Strawberry turnovers.

He shook his head and took to the air, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

[stardustrebels]

A Hunger Like This- A Joel Miller x f!reader one shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E/ 18+ MDNI WC: 5k

Summary: I really wanted to write a Joel Miller Valentine’s Day story, but couldn’t decide between naughty or nice so I wrote both.

Tags: No Outbreak!AU, established relationship, Joel Miller x f!reader, no/ minimal age gap, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, pet names (darlin’, sugar, honey, baby,) dirty talk, rough sex, creampie and some bdsm elements- D/s dynamics, praise, light spanking, pussy/ clit tapping, edging and orgasm denial. Use of traffic light system & aftercare. Everything’s safe, sane and consensual. No use of y/n, minimal descriptions of reader. She wears fishnets, a bra and heels and has hair long enough to pull. Joel Miller is a competent partner because of course he is. Possessive dom!Joel comes out to play. He eats pussy like an absolute beast, as he should. 

A/N: A Valentine’s day story with a rough Joel Miller who’s had a bad day and a reader who likes to tease. I just wanted an excuse to write something porny for fun and it ended up a bit of a monster. I’m not even sorry. 1/2 of my Joel Miller Valentine’s day naughty & nice one shots. Enjoy!

You knew by the way Joel answered the phone at lunch time that he was having a bad day. He was still kind, called you the sweet names he usually did, and still told you he loved you before he hung up, but you could tell from his tone that something was wrong. He was dog-tired from working too hard and trying to hide it from you. He’d told you he booked a table at your favourite place for that night to celebrate Valentine’s day with you, but you knew it was only to make you happy. He’d told you once he’d do anything to see you smile. 

You figured you could probably make his day at least a little better by offering to spend the night at home, but you wanted to make it extra special, and when you eventually decided on how you would do that, your insides fluttered with anticipation. Joel wasn’t one to talk much about what he wanted, but you paid attention when he did. One night during lazy conversation between tangled sheets he’d let something slip. 

“Fishnets, huh?” You’d teased, grinning as you lay draped across his chest. 

“Mhm.” His voice had been thick with sleep, his fingers trailing idly across your skin as he admitted there was just something about the idea of fishnets and heels that drove him wild, that they had since he was a teenager, and you’d stored that little detail away knowing that you’d use it one day. Today was that day. 

By the time Joel’s truck pulled in to the driveway, you’d positioned yourself in the entryway, leaning against the wall in black fishnets, the bra from the lingerie set Joel had bought you last year, a barely-there skirt that left little to the imagination, and your favourite pair of black heels. 

When he stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the bouquet in his hand- red roses held together by brown paper with a familiar logo stamped on it. This man, despite his tiredness, had gone across town after work to pick up flowers from your favourite shop. Your heart stuttered and for a second you almost abandoned your plan and ran straight in to his arms. 

You stopped yourself as soon as you saw the look on his face.

“Jesus Christ.” Was all he offered as he closed the door behind him.

You stepped forward, smiling sweetly as you reached out to lay a hand against his arm.

“Rough day, baby?” 

Joel’s fingers tightened around the bouquet, the paper crinkling under the grip. His gaze dragged over you so slowly you could practically feel it. 

You took the bouquet, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Are these for me? They’re so beautiful, thank you.” You said, tone saccharine as you placed them down on the console table beside you. 

Moving your attention back to him, you slid your hands up his chest to push his jacket from his shoulders. He let you, though you could feel how tense his muscles were under your touch. 

“Darlin’…” he muttered, so low you would have missed it had you not been standing right in front of him. You shushed him, giving his jacket one last shove, letting it land on the floor by his feet. 

You leaned in, lips grazing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been working so, so hard,” you said, emphasising the words with an exaggerated pout and a whine. 

The way his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline almost made you break, but you caught yourself before you laughed, pressing a kiss against his shoulder to hide your smile before you continued. “Why don’t I help you relax?” 

His hands drifted up to rest on your waist, fingers pressing gently in to the soft skin there, one of his favourite parts of you, he’d admitted one night. You peppered gentle kisses up his neck toward his jaw as your hands wandered across his chest and down the firm muscles of his arms, before moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. His jaw clenched hard under your lips as your fingers ghosted over his bare chest, and you expected him to snap, to take control the second your hand touched his bare skin, but he didn’t. 

Interesting. 

You felt his stomach tense under your touch, heard the tiny intake of breath as your fingertips dipped lower and brushed just past the waistline of his jeans, but he didn’t move. 

You grinned and leaned in to brush a kiss under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. His fingers twitched against your waist, but still he held back. 

“You must be exhausted, baby,” you murmured against his skin, voice dripping with sympathy. “I thought for sure by now you’d be telling me exactly how you wanted me.” 

The hitch of his breath was almost satisfying, but he still didn’t react. It made you pause for a second. Was he too tired? Had you misread this? Doubt crept in around the edges of your plan, and you faltered a little, until you glanced up at him.

His lips were curled in to a devilish grin, dark eyes locked on yours, dazed with a look that was nothing more than pure, unadulterated lust. He was letting you have your little game, enjoying it until it was time for him to play.

Oh. 

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the heat now pooling in your stomach made it difficult. 

You pressed a couple more kisses down his neck and onto his shoulder for good measure before taking his hand to lead him further in to the house. You made sure to sway your hips just enough, knowing damn well that his eyes were fixed on your ass. 

You could practically feel the tension radiating off him when you stopped in front of the couch, and a heat crept up your neck at the severity of it. You resisted the urge to look at him, knowing if you caught another glimpse of that dark, hungry look in his eyes, you’d lose your nerve entirely. 

You stepped close to him, your focus fixed on your hands dragging up his chest, slow and deliberate, pushing his open shirt to hang loose on his shoulders. You traced a nail lightly across his sternum, revelling in the subtle shiver that ran through him at the sensation, and you couldn’t help your smirk when you noticed his jaw tick out of the corner of your eye. 

You pressed yourself against him and reached for one of his hands, guiding it to rest on the front of your thigh. A sound rumbled from his throat then, a low groan that he couldn’t hold in, but he still didn’t move. His fingers trailed up with encouragement from yours on top, his rough skin catching against the delicate net. You pushed his hand up further, brushing past the hem of your skirt and between your legs. His body went rigid against yours when he realised you’d forgone any underwear as part of the surprise. 

Something in the air around him shifted as his fingers hovered between your legs, just shy of where you wanted them. Resisting the urge to buck your hips up in to his hand, you finally met his gaze and his expression made your heart skip more than a few beats. He’d never looked quite so intense; pupils blown with lust, nostrils flared, taking slow, deep breaths. You were struck with the sudden urge to run. 

As if he could sense it, he pushed you down on to the couch before you could move. The air left your lungs with a squeak as you collided with the cushions. He caged you in with his arms and took one last deep breath as he smiled down at you. 

“My turn,” he said in a growl, kicking your legs apart with a gentle tap of his foot before sliding down to kneel between them. 

You let out a whine as he admired you for a second, head tilted slightly at the sight in front of him. He trailed his hands up, pushing the skirt up to bunch up around your waist.  “Is this what you wanted?” He murmured, eyes locked between your legs as his thumb brushed over your clit, pushing the net against it ever so slightly. You sucked in a breath and raised your hips, trying to gain just a tiny bit more friction. 

He stilled and his other hand slapped the inside of your thigh, just hard enough to sting and send a jolt of electricity through your core. 

“I asked you a question, baby.” He said, his voice thick with arousal. “This what you wanted when you decided to tease me like that?” 

You swallowed hard, head spinning from how quickly he’d flipped your game on its head. 

“Yes,” you whimpered, gasping when his thumb pushed harder against the seam over your clit. “Yes, Joel, it’s what I wanted.” 

He hummed in approval, adjusting his weight to pepper kisses up your thigh. You bucked your hips again and Joel tapped your clit lightly with his fingertips, making you gasp and grip the cushions on either side of you. 

“Uh-uh, dirty girl,” Joel muttered against your skin, resuming his trail of kisses, torturously slow. “For all your teasin’? You’ll get what I fuckin’ give you.” 

When he reached the apex of your thigh you let out a long, needy whine, trying desperately not to squirm as he nudged his nose against your mound, pressing his tongue flat over the net that barely covered your folds. Your head fell against the back of the couch and you let out a string of curses, causing him to chuckle, the vibrations of it heightening every sensation. 

The seams between the holes of your tights were scraping against you as he licked, adding a new level of torture as his tongue flicked up and down, catching tiny points of your skin underneath. Your legs trembled, heels sliding against the floor as you tried to arch up to his mouth, desperate for more, but his fingers dug in to the outside of your thighs, keeping you pinned. Every time his tongue dragged against the fabric, it was almost where you wanted it most, but not quite. It was torture. Exquisite, delicious torture. 

You let out another whine, this one more frustrated than the last and Joel stopped altogether. 

“Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” He drawled, lips ghosting over the netting, his breath hot against the dampness that had gathered there. “Thought this was what you wanted?” 

You groaned and gripped fistfuls of cushions in clenched fists. Joel hummed in amusement and kept going, alternating between light flicks of his tongue and slow, dragging licks that made you squirm uselessly under his hold. Every time you tried to angle yourself so that your tongue would hit where you ached for it, the fishnets got in the way. It wasn’t until you felt the breaths of another soft chuckle that you realised he was doing it on purpose. Another frustrated noise bubbled up in your throat, and you grimaced at how sensitive your clit was under the seams dragging against it. 

“Joel, please-”

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost sympathetic, but the way his tongue continued its ministrations told he wasn’t quite done making you suffer. You gasped when he sucked gently on the sensitive spot just above your clit, his teeth scraping lightly, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your legs twitched, thighs threatening to close around his head, but he gripped your hips and held you where he wanted you. 

“Jesus,” you gasped, panting now, every muscle tight with need. “Joel, I- I can’t-” 

He groaned against you, tongue pressing a little harder, still blocked by the crosses in the fabric. You let out a desperate sob and raised your head from the back of the couch. He stilled and locked eyes with you. 

You felt as wrecked as he looked, and he must have felt some pity for you because the next thing you knew, his fingers were tearing a hole in your fishnets, right at the center of your soaked aching core, earning a gasp and a shocked, breathy laugh from you. 

He ripped at the fabric until he was satisfied with how much of you he’d uncovered, groaning at the sight now in front of him. He swatted lazily at your thighs, pushing them further apart. 

“Spread those legs, baby. Let me see what’s mine.” He rasped, voice dripping with desire. 

You hardly had time to take another breath before he was on you. His tongue was everywhere- hot, wet and relentless. Now that there was nothing in the way, Joel was devouring you like a man starved. You struggled to focus on anything, but obeyed and spread your legs wider, earning a muffled hum of approval as he buried his face deeper. 

Your fingers found their way in to his hair, threading through his thick curls as his tongue worked you over, unsure if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away. Either way, Joel wasn’t going anywhere. 

His grip on your thighs tightened as he flattened his tongue and dragged it up through your folds again and again, his low groans mingling with yours in the most intoxicating way. 

“Fuck, sugar,” he murmured against your heat, “Ain’t a single inch of you I don’t wanna put my mouth on.” 

You gasped as he latched on to your clit, sucking just hard enough to make your back arch. The pleasure was sharp, coiling tight at the base of your spine, dancing just beyond your reach and tempting you to chase it. 

And then, he pulled back. 

You groaned in protest and your fingers tugged uselessly at his hair, trying to guide his head back to where it had been. Joel chuckled, pressing a wet kiss to your inner thigh instead. 

“Not yet, darlin’,” he murmured, glancing up at you. His face would have been the picture of innocence had it not been absolutely saturated in the evidence of your arousal. 

His fingers replaced his mouth, teasing through your folds, barely pressing where you needed them. You writhed beneath him, trying to push in to his touch, but he only pulled away again, leaving you aching. 

You whined a plea down at him, voice cracking with frustration and he hummed back in mock sympathy.  “Y’gonna be a good girl f’me?” 

“Yes,” you gasped, more desperate than you’d ever been for him to make you come, “Yes, please I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl just please-”

His tongue was on you again in an instant, causing your rambling pleas to morph in to a deep moan in your throat, but it was too soft and slow, keeping you just on the edge without allowing you to fall over it. 

“Joel,” you sobbed through your moans, rocking your hips, “I- I need-”

“Oh, I know, baby,” he said, pouting before pressing a teasing kiss on to your clit. “Poor thing. You’re real close, huh?” 

Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Yes!”

He pulled back again, lips curling smugly as he looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. 

“You’ll come when I let you.” 

The whine that left your lips was such a foreign sound to you, you almost couldn’t believe you’d made it. Your thighs were trembling uncontrollably and you glanced down at Joel, tears blurring the edges of your vision. His smirk softened just a fraction at the sight of you and his fingers moved from your thigh to trace the curve of your hip. 

“We green, darlin’?” His voice was rough with restraint. Your head was swimming, but the mention of your safe word system grounded you for a moment.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah,” you gasped, breath hitching at how delicately he was caressing your skin. “We’re green.”

“Atta girl.” He rumbled, voice thick with approval. He traced slow circles back down to your thigh, his eyes fixed on yours, watching your changing expression intently. “You’re gonna be good f’me, ain’t you? Good girls get to come.”

When you let out a sigh and shot him a relaxed smile and a nod, his satisfied smirk returned, sharper this time. His head dipped again, and he pressed teasing kisses around your clit before flicking his tongue over it, making you shiver. It wasn’t long before you were moaning and gasping again, whispering broken pleas up toward the ceiling. 

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he ordered, his thumb taking over, pressing against your clit in the way he knew drove you crazy. “Beg for it, baby.” 

You had no pride left, no shame. They were gone and raw, desperate need had taken their place. Your head fell back and your hand left his hair to grasp at the edge of the couch and you rocked your hips against his hand, legs threatening to close around his head. 

“I need it, I need to come, I- please, fuck, Joel, I-”

He groaned and slid two fingers inside of you, curling up to press against the spot he knew made you come undone. The moment he nudged it, you let out a sharp cry, hips jolting toward him as the heat coiled tighter in your stomach. 

“There it is, pretty girl. Come f’me, let me feel it,” he murmured, before flicking his tongue back against your clit. 

You clenched around his fingers in response, thighs twitching, pleasure so sharp it was almost unbearable. Your moans gave way to a garbled sob, fingers clutching the cushions in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. Joel grunted and lapped at your clit like a man possessed. Every flick, every calculated curl of his fingers, every slick, filthy sound had you spiralling toward your inevitable release. 

You held your breath as your body went tight, pleasure knotting so tightly you thought you might snap in half. When you finally fell over the edge, it hit you like a truck; pleasure slamming through you so hard your vision went white. You let out a choked cry as your entire body seized, back arching clean off the couch. The pleasure was devastating- wave after wave of it crashing through you, with Joel’s fingers dragging every last drop of pleasure from you as you sobbed his name, trembling under his touch. 

After a moment, his hands slid down your legs to your feet, his touch gentle and reverent. He sat back on his heels and slid your shoes off one by one before tossing them over his shoulder. His hands continued their tracing, back up to your waist. He unbuttoned your skirt before pulling it off in one smooth motion, leaving your wrecked fishnets firmly in place. 

He stood, unbuckling his belt and shrugging off his shirt. You bit back a moan when he shoved down his jeans and boxers, freeing his hard, leaking cock. He stroked himself, breathing heavily as he watched you squirm and lick your lips beneath him.

Before you got a chance to really admire him, Joel grabbed you and flipped you on to your front, setting you on all fours, fingers hooking in the net to drag your hips toward him, causing the fabric to rip again. He ran his palm over the curve of your ass and gave it a squeeze as his other hand slid between your legs, fingers pressing against your swollen clit, drawing a choked moan from you. 

“So sensitive, sugar. I know you can take it, though.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him, silently begging for more. Joel huffed a laugh as he lined himself up against your entrance, teasing. 

“Tell me you want it.” 

“I want it,” you gasped, hands clutching against the cushions, scratching at the fabric as you keened.. “I want you. Please, Joel-” 

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With a low, wrecked groan, his entire length was inside you in one slow, ruinous thrust. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fingers digging in to your hips. “You feel so goddamn good. Gonna let me take what I need, darlin’?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, arching your back to press further into him, revelling in the way he was stretching you: overwhelming in the best way. 

Joel pulled back and slammed in to you again, setting a ruthless pace, dragging you back to meet him with every thrust. His hands were rough, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back to fist in to your hair.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” he praised. Each thrust was deep and desperate, stealing what little breath you had left from your lungs with each sharp snap of his hips. Joel sounded like he was hanging on by a thread, babbling strings of praises punctuated by hissed curses, voice wrecked and rough with need. “You’re mine, ain’t you? Mine. Takin’ me so well. Made for me. So fuckin’ perfect.” 

His hand left your hair and you almost whined with the loss of contact before his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, the feeling pulling a deep, animalistic moan from your throat. The sound only seemed to spur Joel on, and he dragged you up against his chest, keeping his rhythm with near-perfect precision against something blissful deep inside of you. 

He pressed a burning kiss to your neck, growling against the spot just below your ear. You could barely keep yourself upright, but Joel was one step ahead of you, wrapping an arm around your middle to keep you pressed to him, his other hand reaching between your legs, fingertips circling expertly against you, despite the rapid pace he’d set. 

“Love havin’ you like this,” he rasped, rhythm stuttering just slightly as you clenched around his cock. “Fuck, that’s it, you’re gonna give me another, ain’t you?” 

A sob tore from your throat, a familiar pleasure tightening like a vice inside of you. 

“I got you, sweet girl. C’mon, come on my cock. Let me feel it.” 

You shattered with a cry, pleasure ripping through your muscles so intensely you thought you might collapse beneath the force of it, but Joel held you steady, his movements turning frantic, losing his perfect rhythm as the tight heat of you squeezed him, pulling him over the edge alongside you with a deep, guttural groan. It vibrated against the damp skin of your neck and contorted in to something soft and raw, breaking apart in to broken whimpers as he spilled inside of you, his body wracked with tiny, involuntary shudders. His hands trembled where they held you, fingers flexing and gripping like he needed you closer, even though there wasn’t a single inch left between you. 

It left you gasping, sucking in the air even though it felt like there was none left in the room; overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of it all. The way he clung to you, the way his lips imparted breathless murmurs of your name, the word falling over your skin again and again like a confession. His devotion to you rolling off of him in waves, pulsing through you with every thump of his heart against your back, along with aftershocks that made you quiver along with him. 

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds filling the space were your gasping breaths -  lingering echoes of your pleasure. You turned your head just enough to press a shaky kiss to the side of his jaw, the sharp scratch of his scruff pulling you further from your reverie. He let out a heavy exhale and rested his forehead against your temple, his breath cool against your scorching skin. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he finally said, voice scratchy and worn. You gave a satisfied hum. You knew he did. How could you not - he was clutching you to him like some precious thing that might fizzle out of existence the moment he let go. 

“I love you too,” you said in return, lifting a hand to cup the back of his head, carding your fingers through his thick, tousled curls. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” 

He peppered kisses down your neck in response and shifted so that he could slide out of you. You groaned in unison as he did, his spend leaking out on to your thigh. He ghosted a finger between your legs to feel it, and a low hum rumbled from his chest; the feel of it igniting the residual embers of possessiveness, ever-present at the edges of his desire for you. 

“Can you stand?” Joel said against your neck. You nodded, and moved away from him, but the moment he eased his grip and your feet hit the rug, your legs wobbled beneath you. His reflexes were quicker- of course they were, and his strong arms were around you before you could sway even an inch.

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled. “C’mon, sugar. Hold on t’me.” 

He slid a hand down your arm and laced his fingers with yours as you clutched his arm to steady yourself. Even when you found your footing, he kept his hold on you, making sure you were alright on your own before he even thought about letting go. He turned you to face him and lifted himself from the couch to press a soft kiss against your lips, the energy of it in such stark contrast to how he’d fucked you not ten minutes before. You sighed in to the kiss, tasting yourself on him as his tongue danced over your lips, coaxing yours out to meet it. 

“Let’s get these off,” he said, crouching down to help you out of your torn fishnets. He peeled them off with care, muttering about how it was a damn shame, before glancing up at you with such a salacious grin that it made you giggle. 

“Guess I owe you a new pair of these, huh?” 

You smirked, “Only if you wanna do that again.” 

His smile grew, crooked, lazy and just shy of arrogant. 

“I’d do that every day if I could, sweetheart.”  

Joel stood and his hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with practised ease, his fingertips following it as it slid from your body, his gaze tracing over every inch of exposed skin. 

“Christ, look at you,” he muttered, tone tinged with reverence, “Most beautiful thing I ever laid eyes on.” 

You felt suddenly shy at the way he was looking at you and you shot him a coy smile. His hands cupped at your waist and he guided you in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, darlin’.” 

The steam of the shower curled around you both as Joel pulled you under the water with him, his broad chest solid against your back. He took his time, lathering shampoo through your hair, massaging at your scalp until you melted against him. His lips found the curve of your shoulder and he pressed soft, lingering kisses between quiet murmurs of praise. 

Once you were both clean, wrapped in the fluffiest towels you could find, Joel led you to your bedroom and draped your robe over your shoulders while he rifled through drawers for the comfy clothes he knew you favoured on nights like this. He froze when he turned back to you, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. 

“Shit,” he said, “We’ve missed our damn dinner reservation.” 

You bit your lip, sheepishly avoiding his gaze as you took your clothes from him. 

Joel squinted at you, catching the shift in your expression. “What?” 

“I canceled it earlier,” you muttered, a shy grin curving your lips. 

His brows lifted. “You did?” 

You shrugged, reaching out to clasp his hand in yours. “I thought we could just have a quiet night at home instead. Just us. Order a pizza or something. I just wanna spend some time with you, Joel, I don’t mind where we do it. I bought you some beers, or we could have some wine- maybe just relax for a bit?” 

Joel only stared at you, the crease between his brows deepening like he was trying to work through what you’d just said. His throat bobbed and his fingers twitched against yours as he let out a shaky breath.

A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips, but there was a slight waver to it. “I’d love that, sweetheart. It sounds perfect.” 

You barely had time to register the movement before he was wrapping his arms around you, tugging you against him so tightly it almost knocked the breath from your lungs. His nose nestled in to your hair as he held you, chest rising and falling in controlled breaths beneath your cheek. 

“You’re so good t’me.” 

Joel had dressed in his sweats and left the room after checking in with you one last time and pressing a kiss to your temple. You agreed to meet him downstairs once you had dressed and dried your hair. 

By the time you made your way down, Joel had cleaned up. The evidence of your earlier tryst had been erased: your shoes, the fishnets and Joel’s clothes were gone. He’d placed your favourite blanket on the edge of the couch and there was an open bottle of wine on the coffee table between two glasses. The bouquet of roses he’d brought home was already in a vase on the side table, and you allowed yourself a second to admire them. 

Joel was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, phone in hand. The sight of him in comfy clothes made your heart ache- you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him in them. He glanced up when you walked toward him, a smile breaking through the tiredness on his features.  “Pizza’s on its way,” he said as you reached for him, tucking your hands under his t-shirt, suddenly struck with the need to feel his bare skin against yours again. 

“Great,” you said, “You wanna come cuddle with me on the couch?” 

He cupped your cheek and his eyes flitted between yours as he looked down at you, his expression overflowing with adoration. 

“I’d love nothing more, darlin’.” 

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 2- Ruinous

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), toxic behaviors between Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.8k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Did I write this when I should’ve been studying for an exam? Yes, but I couldn’t help it!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Bucky stares at the pieces of the whiskey glass on the floor. Little droplets of the whiskey mixed with the Asgardian liquor stained the wall and the floor. It was unfair, you lashing out at him. You knew his struggles, his demons. And he told you it wasn’t your fault.

But he knew, deep down, that you were being fair. You had to do what was good for you. And right now, that wasn’t him.

Bucky collapses on the couch, his head in his hands. He knows that he acted like an asshole. He knows that you deserve better than that. So why couldn’t he change? Why couldn’t he stop lashing out?

He doesn’t have the answer. He wants to, but it’s like he can’t control what he’s doing. So he gets up, grabs another glass and pours himself a hefty amount of Asgardian liquor and whiskey, and grabs the mostly untouched box of cigarettes from his secret cupboard.

-

You wake up cold. You felt the emptiness beside you and slowly opened your eyes. You’re not home, you realize. The explosive fight with Bucky happened. You leaving your shared apartment happened. You staying the night at Natasha's happened.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to think. How can your relationship be saved? How could you leave the relationship? The decision is daunting to say the least.

To start off, Bucky and you have been together for years. You know each other inside and out. Well, you used to.

You shake your head and try to think more.

Bucky has a short temper, quick to anger. But it was never with you. When you fought, it typically wasn’t anger that made you scared. He always made sure that you were trying to understand his side.

You shake your head. You couldn’t stop contradicting yourself. If you thought about a good thing about Bucky, a negative would follow. The whole situation is confusing for you.

You decide that laying in bed isn’t helping your decision. You get up and make the bed, trying to be a good guest. You leave the room to find Natasha in the kitchen making breakfast.

She offers you a small smile. “Morning, want some?”

You look at the pan and see eggs. You scrunch your nose.

“No thanks, I can’t even think about eating right now.” You sigh and hop up on one of the counters.

Natasha places her spatula down and leans on the opposite counter to look at you. “I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep.”

“Well I did sleep, it wasn’t very restful though.” You yawn and shrug.

Natasha nods. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t know what more I can say, you know?” You feel your eyes begin to water again. “I knew about his baggage, his nightmares, who he is. And I fell for him hard and fast. And now he’s going backwards and refusing to get help. All of the bad doesn’t negate the good, but his recent actions are things I can’t overlook.”

Natasha hums and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe this is something you need to talk to him about.”

You quickly wipe under your eyes with a sniff. “Is that a good idea?”

Natasha pushes herself off of the counter to stand in front of you. “Are you scared that he’s going to do anything irrational?”

You shake your head. Even though Bucky isn’t acting totally like himself, he’s not an idiot.

Natasha nods. “Then you need to have this conversation with him. Maybe he can tell you his side of things and maybe that’ll change things for you.”

You think about what she said. On one hand, you know that talking to Bucky would maybe clarify some things for you. On the other hand, it may cause another fight. But it was something you were willing to risk.

-

You unlock the front door, the stench of Asgardian liquor and smoke filling your nose. You see Bucky on the couch, a cigarette in his hand.

He takes a drag before turning to you. “Where were you?”

You frown at his hand. Bucky follows your gaze. He knows you hate it when he smokes. Smoking is one of the few things he picked up again when he felt stressed. But he told you that he stopped because of how much you hated it. Now you know he lied.

“Natasha’s.” You mutter.

Bucky scoffs at this and puts out the cigarette. “Of course you were.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stands up. “It means I’m tired of you always running to her when we fight.”

“How is that any different than you going to Steve?”

“Because Steve is Steve. He’s my best friend.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “You’re telling me that just because Steve is your best friend he’s better than Natasha? She’s not some stranger.”

“Well she’s basically one to me, you spend so much time with her.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t an asshole!” You raise your voice.

Bucky clenches his jaw. “So it’s my fault that you always run to her?”

“Sorry I don’t feel like I can come home!” You yell at him sarcastically.

He furrows his brows. “What, you don’t feel safe?”

“Look at you now! You’re getting angry with me for wanting space and hanging out with Natasha. Why would I come home if this is what I’m coming home to?”

“All because of what happened yesterday? Is that why you don’t want to come home?”

“No, I don’t want to come home because I’m scared of you! I’m scared that you’re moving backwards and this isn’t something that I can help you with. And… I’m scared that this isn’t something that I want to be around.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to be around?” He takes a step towards you.

“Bucky, you’ve been going backwards for months. You’ve been quick to anger, you started to drink more often, you’ve been lying to me about smoking for who knows how long. You act like you don’t have friends or loved ones who want to help you, like you don’t have resources.”

Bucky swallows. “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

You take a shaky breath. “Then I’m moving out.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and his heart drops. “You’re gonna move out because I started drinking more and smoking again?”

“No, I’m moving out because I cannot and will not watch you destroy yourself. I come home drained. Not from work but from guessing what you’re going to be like. I want to do anything but come home to you and it shouldn’t be like that.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “What happened to through thick and thin? You’re gonna abandon me because I’m trying to work through some things?” 

“Bucky I’ve been with you through thick, and I’ve been with you through thin. But you haven’t. I can’t be two people.”

“Well sorry that I can’t be the perfect boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for you to do the bare minimum and I’m not even getting that.”

“So me sharing everything with you is not enough?”

“Bucky, you only share halfhearted things! You tell me what you had for lunch and then your upcoming missions. I don’t know much about who you were growing up or what your favorite color is. I want to know all of you and you only want to share a fraction of that.”

“Do you really think it’s easy for me to share the things Hydra did to me? The things I did?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. And I’m grateful that you shared bits of that, but you are moving backwards. You won’t even go see your therapist!”

“I don’t need some shrink to tell me the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t need someone who doesn’t understand what it was like to be a fucking science experiment try to ‘decode’ me. Therapy doesn’t work.” Bucky takes another step towards you and softens his voice. “And I don’t need you to see how truly broken I am.”

“Bucky, I only see you. I see a man who has overcome all of these terrible things and is trying to right his wrongs. But I can’t see all of him when he’s starting to pull away from me. And you can’t say therapy doesn’t work when you’ve only been to 3 sessions and haven’t been back in months.”

“Fine, I’ll share things with you. Is that what you want? I’m not going to see some shrink, bringing up the past is… it has too many memories.”

You sigh and shake your head. “I need space, you need time. I can’t keep living like this, seeing you deteriorate in front of my eyes.”

Bucky finally lets himself break, his eyes water and his voice cracks. “For how long?”

“Until you show me you’re trying to get better.”

Bucky swallows. “And if I don’t?”

You shake your head. “You’re going to try.”

Bucky nods. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears staining your cheeks. It bothers you how much you’ve been crying the past few days but it’s been a long time coming.

“I’m going to go get more of my things.” Bucky nods, not able to say anything to you.

As you move towards the bedroom, Bucky sits back down on the couch. How is this real? He thought to himself. He knows that his actions have consequences, but you are the best thing that has happened to him. Was it because he was too selfish? Should he have known that all good things come to an end?

But you were willing to come back to him. You wanted him to get better. And he knows that the selfish part of him isn’t going away when it comes to you.

You exit the bedroom with another big bag of your things. Bucky looks up and stands.

“I don’t know what to say.” You try to take in every feature of his. “I’m probably going to stay with Natasha for a few days, then I’m going to talk with Tony about a more permanent solution.”

Bucky nods, not being able to bring himself to talk. You feel a pang in your heart, not wanting to leave him but knowing that it’s what's best.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” You walk towards the door.

Bucky finally speaks up. “Stay safe.”

You turn around and give him a small broken smile. “You too.”

As the door closes behind you, Bucky can feel everything around him shake. He sits on the couch, his head in his hands. Bucky lets out a cry, gasping for breath.

His whole world had left.