#after many years come the answer of this LMAO

[mr-nauseam]

re: juno x livia

oooo what about juno and livia makes you ship them? 👀👀

I've been thinking a lot about how to talk about this because I NEVER imagined someone would ask about the best toxic yuri my delusional head could come up with but I guess I'll do what I do best: ramble 🙏

So this began because for a wip (that I'm still working on) were I needed to pair Livia with someone so I went and looked up all the names of the mentors and look I rarely use the movie for references but I needed a visual image so I was looking at pictures of the mentors and I need you to see this:

Because WHY THEY KINDA SLAY? So the a e s t h e t i c was the first thing that make me say "Oh THEY COULD BE A SHIP," then because I'm a book girlie I go to read every line were they appear which lead me to the next point on why I end up shipping Livia and Juno

They give mean girlies in love vibes 🥰

Here we enter the fun realm of speculation so these are simply my headcanons but I think Livia has a similar personality to a classic mean girl like Regina George. So she can be terribly capricious, demanding special treatment and complaining at what she perceives as unfair treatment (I should note that she seems to have a strong patriotism and a clear defense of her values) but I don't think Livia is as nasty as Coriolanus paints her or at least not to other people. One key thing about being a triumphant queen bee is having some charisma, and actually being able to be incredibly hypocritical

Livia is but in a rather subtle way so she will claim to be a brutally honest person and will be a pain to deal with at times. She can be especially nasty to people she can't stand like Coriolanus or Sejanus but I think she can be quite civil to people she in theory calls friends but in reality won't allow them to get to know her intimately because she's afraid of intimacy. Also sorry but she has the perfect potential to have mommy issues, so there is a marked difference between Livia in front of her mother vs Livia on her own, that has made her aggressively misogynistic in a way so she will talk to her female classmates but probably believes most are pretty dumb and naive

Let's summarize a little. Livia presents herself as confident and charming but with a strong and honest character. She is pretty, can be sociable and likes to stand up for what she considers class (good manners, fair play but only when it suits her). Deep down she doesn't think well of many of her classmates, she not trust them but she knows how to hide it however she has no scruples about being cruel to people she doesn't tolerate and is incredibly capricious.

Now let's go to Juno Phipps. Juno for me is a mean girl yes but in the sense of spoiled princess, I think her mother died during the war due to an illness, and she only has her father, a man with a very important surname, who has given his daughter everything she wants, now she is totally unbearable and too delicate.

She doesn't know how to lose, she feels confused when people don't give her what she wants, and she complains easily. She is much more pleasant and social than Livia however, although few can stand her for more than 5 hours at a time. Juno also knows she is very pretty and will constantly take advantage of that, in fact, that is why she can be a princess, because boys are always willing to give her what she wants as long as she winks at them, but similar to Livia she is lonely at heart, this business of getting involved in gossip, being aware of the bad things others say about her and the bad things she knows she has said about others make she also shies away from trusting others with her most intimate feelings.

Considering this scenario I just thought it would be great to have them meet, because of course they do, they can't go unnoticed, they are not part of the same social circle constantly, their meetings are brief, almost by accident, but when they talk it's always easy because they have a lot in common, more than anyone would believe, and they feel connected.

I always joke that there are two types of lesbians before they come out, one is the type that aggressively hates men, and the other is the type that loves men but can never take them seriously, and I think Livia is the first type and Juno is the second, and I think that's also kind of striking because they've both seen each other in dresses and well groomed and have been each other's gay awakening (they think each other its MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN ALL ACADEMY AFTER THEMSELVES but no tell this to any!) but it takes them quite a while to get there, and in what they get there, both will have radically different opinions of how to relate to men.

Livia likes Juno but thinks she's an empty head for wasting up her time dating so many idiot boys, Juno will never understand why if Livia is so controlled every time she talks to a guy her patience is lost, all while they enjoy spending time together too much and are secretly obsessed with each other. There is also drama because of my opinion of the Capitol and homosexual relationships (I don't think it's seen as something positive within the upper class) and other issues I've made up about Juno being the mistress of the first lady Livia but I think this is a summary of how I did in my head all this toxic yuri…

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @m3ntally-unstable @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378 @angelbabyyy99 @selella @itvy5601 @noonespecial90 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @ordelixx @krispybearbouquet @matchat3a @cl7ire @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @julvrs @anghstybean @eah-marvel-trolls @pono-pura-vida @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

[mickyschumacher]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after seeing you with play with some young fans you and charles meet on the streets of monaco, charles can't get his mind off having his own. or in which, charles has got a case of the baby fever. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: established relationship, fluff, 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it if u don't want babies), breeding kink (obvi), charles meeting the bare minimum requirement to be a good human (lmao), slight lactation kink, mutual orgasms, handjob, pussy rubbing(?), reader is sensitive as shit, google translated french (my bad to the french speakers), a questionable perversion of having children that always comes with this context, also questionable whether this qualifies as baby fever but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: wrote this one when i first started if you can't tell by the mention of pedro and tlou! my absence explained in another post! ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Charles loved his fans, especially Tifosi. After you, his family and friends, they were the most important people in his lives and constantly motivated him. Most of them were kind and sweet to him and loved and cherished you more than they loved him.

That's why whenever fans asked for photos with you, the both of you or autographs, Charles always accepted. He rarely refused them unless the fans gave off a certain vibe that rubbed him the wrong way; crazed fans or fans who liked you a little bit too much for his liking.

His favourite fans normally, however, were children. It was definitely pressurising to have that many children look up to him but Charles found it rewarding. They were so young and full of dreams that he could help fulfil. They always looked at him wide-eyed with their jaws open as if they had just seen an angel walk by, similarly to how Charles reacted when he had first seen you in the streets of Monaco.

Today was no exception. It was currently the mid-season break and you two were roaming the partially empty streets after having breakfast out, relishing in the privacy of Monaco. Halfway through your walk, you and Charles had bumped into some small fans, literally.

A set of 3-year old twin sisters and a boy who only seemed a year or two older had run to Charles and you yelling 'Charles!' and 'It's Ferrari!'.

Charles instantly was smiling at them, crouching down to talk to them and entertain all their bombarding questions that flew one after the other.

"Is the car really that fast?"

"Can I go in the car?!"

"I hope you win!"

You chuckled softly as Charles answered them with ease. You looked at the parents who also seemed to be equally as excited as their children. "Do you want me to take a photo for you guys?" You inquired softly.

The parents looked at you with wide eyes. "Can you? If it's no bother!" The father fretted, sharing a slightly alarmed expression with his wife.

You shook your head and smiled. "It's not a problem." They held out their phone and you took it into your hands, opening the camera. You hummed as you looked at the group. "Let's do three photos. One with the three angels, one with the parents and one family one?" You asked.

The parents were about to nod when the kids suddenly refused. "Four! We want one with a pretty girl!" One of the sisters yelled out, pointing at you.

Your mouth fell open while your body flushed with slight embarrassment. Charles grinned at you, agreeing with the children profusely. You gave a playful sigh and nodded. The children and parents began to poise for the camera several times and left the last one for you to take a selfie with them.

The parents turned to Charles, inviting him into a conversation as they apologised for the kids running to him all of a sudden.

You could hear Charles say it was fine when you felt a tug at the bottom your dress. You crouched down to the children who now crowded you.

The boy looked at you wide-eyed while the two girls poked your arm and asked "Are you a princess?"

You smiled softly. "I am!" You implored, "How did you know?" You asked in a hushed tone.

The children giggled. "Princesses are always pretty, that's why!" The boy said with red cheeks.

You hummed, pondering over the statement. You brought your hand out to pat the girls' heads and pinch the little boy's chubby cheeks. "That must mean all of you are also princesses and princes, hmm?"

The children cheered in agreement, giggling to themselves before discussing who was the best prince or princesses out of them all.

"I'm the best prince!" One sister said, putting her hands on her hips in determination. Her older brother looked at her almost offended. "How can that be? I'm the best. I'm older."

The other sister looked at her siblings dumbfounded. "Why can't we all be the best?" She sighed.

You grinned at her answer. "You're right! You are all the best. Equally. You know why?" You asked.

Three pair of big eyes looked at you with curiosity swirling within them as they shook their small heads 'no'.

You brought their hands together and held them in your palm. "Because you're siblings. You're family. That's the best."

The kids stared at you blankly, probably trying digest your words as much as they could at that age. The previous sister smiled widely, letting out a deafening yell, running to her mother. "Did you hear that, maman? We're all the best!" She screamed with joy.

You stood from the ground slowly, grinning at all the kids. "I did. We all heard that, ma cherié. It's true!" The mother chorused, giving you a thankful smile.

You smiled in response, shaking your head as if it was nothing. The parents and kids began to say goodbye to you and Charles, although the latter did so rather reluctantly as you walked over to your boyfriend.

You raised a brow at the dazed expression on Charles' face. "Cha? Mon amour, what's going on in that head of yours?" You hooked your arm with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

Charles blinked. "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about those kids. Cute, right?" He breathed out, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You smiled. "Very," You agreed as the two of you began to walk to Charles' car.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Arriving home, the two of you decided to lounge in your living room, not bothered to do anything else for the day. You had managed to put on the newest episode of 'The Last of Us', eager to find out what was happening next.

You and Charles laid on the couch; your head resting on his chest while he cuddled you from behind. You were intently watching Pedro Pascal after being besieged with edit after edit of him on TikTok. Charles on the other hand wasn't focusing at all.

All he could think about what those kids you and him had met earlier that morning. Specifically, you conversing with them. You hadn't realised since you were so caught up with them, but at one point him and the parents had stopped talking and tuned into your conversation with the kids.

Charles had talked to you about kids before. You both wanted them and although Charles always talked about having three kids specifically, just like him and his brothers, he would leave it up to whatever you wanted because at the end of the day, it was you giving birth, not him. He would prefer to have children when he was slightly a bit more older, you both had more control over his life, and obviously with at least one championship under his belt.

But after today, Charles was prepared to throw that plan away. As lewd as it was, the idea of you getting you pregnant and having a family not only touched his heart, but immorally touched his cock.

Knowing that he would have to ensure that his cum was entirely within you, stuffed into your cervix, and not letting a single drop come out made him feel feral. To make matters worse, you would look like a goddess when pregnant because hell, you were so beautiful now. Round and full with his child because he made sure to fuck you till you were overflowing with his cum. Or when your breasts became heavy and sensitive to his touch, leaking sporadically, giving him the opportunity to clean you up with his mouth.

God, he was an animal. The worst.

"Charles, what are you doing?" Your voice erupted into the air, breaking him out of his deep train of thought.

Charles blinked at your question in confusion before he looked down, seeing his hand traversing under your dress and up your inner thigh. He looked over to your amused eyes peering at him.

"Sorry," He let out with a sigh, rubbing the warm flesh of your thigh softly. "I just... I can't stop thinking about children."

You raised a brow, not seeing the correlation to Charles' wondering hand. "Children?" You iterated, running a hand through his hair.

Charles shut his eyes at your actions, feeling at ease. "Those kids today... make me want our own children. Now. I want to have children now."

Charles peeked his eyes open, looking at your astounded expression with a bit of fear. "What about our plans? What was it? Thirty-three, a championship, lives under control, and then children?" You queried. "I-I'm not mad or anything, Cha. Just curious. Why the change of heart all of sudden?

You had now turned to face Charles, knees on either side of him, straddling his lap as you became fully attentive to him.

Charles played with the tresses of your hair that had fallen past your face before tucking them gently behind your ear. "You would just make such a good mother, mon ange. You're so sweet and kind. You now how to talk to them. God, pregnancy would look so good on you. I can't stop thinking about you pregnant," Charles let out a small moan a thought. "You all round with our child, hormonal, sensitive at my touch."

Charles' fingers brushed over your neck, making you shudder involuntarily. You melted at his words. Charles thought a great deal of you. You weren't opposed to the idea either, in fact all of his words were making you hornier by the minute.

"You know what?" You queried, "I also want to have children. You would make an amazing father, Cha. I know you would," You softly said, pressing a brief kiss to his lips.

Charles pulled away, boring his gaze into you. "Yeah?" He whispered, eyes soft and full of lust and love.

"Yeah," You repeated. "A father of all three," You teased, giving him a small knowing smile.

Charles' eyes darkened slightly at your words. His hands rested on your hips, his half-hard on in his pants turned harder, pressing into your clothed pussy. "Mon amour," He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your body stand straight. "Should I fuck a baby into you?" He pulled his face back, waiting for your answer.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, relishing in his words. "If you're going to fuck a baby in me, Charles, you better do it right the first time."

Charles groaned, grinning at your words. Staring at you with a fiery gaze, he quickly brought you down into a hungry kiss. His grip on your hips tightened while your hands became entangled in his hair. Another groan fell against your lips when you tugged at his locks.

Your heart slammed against your chest, beating loudly in your ears. Your skin was heated with Charles' touch ravaging all over you; grazing your arms, squeezing your ass only for you to press further into him. Your stomach surged with desire, feeling his clothed cock grind into you. "Fuck," Your swollen lips uttered out, high with an intoxicating buzz circulating your veins.

"Charles, I need–" You began only to be cut off by your own whimper as Charles bucked his hips up into you, setting a pace of stimulation with the tent of his pants and the gritty material of his shorts.

Charles smiled at the sight of your head thrown back and your back arching. "What do you need, ma cherié? Hmm? Tell me and I'll give it to you, my love," He sighed out, feeling his cock ache in its restraints.

"Fuck, j'ai besoin de ta bite, Charles," You murmured, feeling the temperature of your body rise with every passing second. Fuck, I need your cock, Charles.

Charles grinned at your use of French so early on. Normally when you were nearing your climax, you would lose yourself to all the French you knew. "As you wish, princesse," He stated. "Let's get this off, hmm?" He began to slid down the straps of your dress, pressing warm kisses on your shoulder. The sight of your bare breasts made him sigh in content, licking a strip from the base of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

You felt a shiver crawl up your spine, feeling Charles' hands wander down your back while he pushed the fabric past your ass, hooking his fingers under your the waistband of your panties. You lifted your body up, aiding him in getting rid of your dress and underwear.

You settled back down on Charles' lap, pushing your wet core against his clothed cock. Charles nipped at your neck, dazed at the feeling of your pussy on him. Your hands reached out, rushing to get those shorts and shirt off of him. Pulling his shirt of him, you placed a trail of kisses down his chest. You could feel his lower stomach tense as you neared his waistband. With a grin, impatiently, you took off his shorts and the boxers underneath.

Your stomach churned and pussy throbbed at Charles' red, aching cock springing up, begging to be touched. You flickered your sultry gaze to your boyfriend, reaching over to put your fingers in his mouth.

Charles maintained eye-contact, lubing your fingers generously with his spit before he felt a shudder rip through him when you teasingly pushed your pussy to graze the angry tip of his cock.

"Vous taquinez," Charles uttered out almost with a whine after you removed your fingers. You tease.

"Don't be too sad, mon amour," You breathed out, trailing your wet fingers over his v-line before wrapping them around his cock. Charles sucked in a sharp breath as your hand began move up and down his shaft, mixing his spit and his pre-cum together, giving him a new, unique shine of his own.

"You wanted to see me pregnant, right? Full of your cum. So pregnant that everyone will know in a few months that you fucked me that good," You started, eyes trained on him while you pumped his cock with a tantalising grip. "We need a lot of your cum today. I'm just getting you prepared," You purred.

Charles let out a series of high moans, letting your words wash all over him and mix with his euphoria. His fingers reached out to your wet folds, stroking your heated slip with need. You trembled at his touch, bucking your hip against his fingers, increasing the pace of your hand on his cock.

Both of you moaned loudly while you jerked each other off, breathy sounds bouncing off the walls of your apartment. "Merde," Charles swore, pressing his head further into the couch, hips sensitively bucking into your hand as you brushed the slit of his cock.

He pushed himself, refusing to slack at your pleasure. He rubbed your pussy, groaning at the wet, glistening folds that were coating his fingers. You moaned, feeling a familiar buzzing pool in your stomach. "I need to," Charles panted out, covering your hand with his to stop you, "I need to..." He trailed off once again, pulling you closer to him.

Charles could barely think straight. He didn't know what he was saying or what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed to feel your pussy against his cock.

A guttural whimper escaped your mouth when Charles rubbed his cock against your folds. God, the both of you could get off just like this. He sighed out, eyes clouded with pleasure while he bathed in the warmth of your pussy. He could feel you jerk time to time against him, sensitive from nearing your climax.

You were was a sight to behold. You couldn't control your hips or yourself. You were just so receptive, automatically rubbing your pussy and clit up and down the head of cock. Your head falling back, supported by air while your back arched with lust. Sweat clung to your warmed body and your dry hair was now coated in a light sheen of grease. Face contorted with pleasure and flushed with heat.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck," Charles hissed out, partially angry that he already was about to climax but how could he not at such a view and feeling?

You blinked through your pleasure, remembering how you had gotten into this situation in the first place. You pushed your hips to him, hovering over his cock and sliding down onto him. You whimpered, feeling full with his throbbing cock in you.

Charles groaned, feeling your warm walls clench around him as you began to move your hips up and down. He watched your breasts bounce, making him flicker to that thought of them being full with milk once he got you pregnant. He would be selfish and have a taste of them himself.

Your pussy was a siphon, drawing and pulling his cock even further into you. Charles placed his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his cock to ensure he was balls-deep within you, fully sheathed. The breathy air was now replaced with both of your lewd moans and the sound of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

"Merde, merde," Charles began to chant, increasing the pace of his hips snapping and rutting into your folds. Your hands fell to his own hands, tightening around them as pleasure bubbled at the pits of your stomach.

"Fuck, Charles. Cum in me, mon amour. Fais de moi une mère. Hmm? Imagine it. I'll be even more sensitive, my tits will be heavy and sore with milk and I'll ask you to massage them... everyone will know what we did," You moaned loudly. Make me a mother.

Charles's hips came to a halt, shaking with pleasure while he poured ropes and ropes of his hot cum deep into your walls. He let out staggered moans, feeling you clench around him and take even more of his load. Charles pressed his swollen lips onto your, kissing you dizzy while he thrusted out his high, ensuring his cum was staying within you.

Charles sighed out, pressing his forehead against yours. Realising you were once again on the brink of cumming, with his cock still in you, he brought his fingers to your engorged clit, rubbing the sensitive nub gently yet harshly.

He felt your walls grip him even tighter if possible as you began to convulse in his arms. "Jesus fucking Christ," You sobbed out, waves of your euphoric climax hitting you.

Christ, you were so sensitive, hips jerking up against his fingers, grinding to maximise your stimulation. He couldn't even stop you if he wanted to.

"Merde, ma cherié, cum for me. Yes, just like that," Charles coaxed, groaning as you somehow managed to get more cum out of him.

You let out a final whimper before collapsing onto him, feeling Charles' softening cock drive and push the cum deeper into you. You let out a low moan against his chest.

Charles pushed your chin up with his finger, looking into your eyes. He smiled, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your lips. "You did so well, mon amour," He praised, running a hand through your sweaty hair, getting a better glance of your face.

You gave him a weak smile, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "You think we did a good job?" You queried, voice quiet and tired. "You think we'll have a child soon?"

Charles grinned at you, planting another kiss on the side of your head. "If I didn't, I'll fuck you again and make sure that test has two lines."

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[hoshigray]

I told you I was going to do it and here I am lmao. Any who reader and Toji are bumming on the couch watching a movie within the movie there is a spicy scene involving 69 that is mediocre. It gives reader an idea to make a bet with Toji to see who can last the longest. Toji isn't budging at first but when the reader mentions that they want to do in the same position within the movie (something they never did before) he gladly accepts the challenge. I'll leave the plot and ending up to you love. I know you will work your magic for him.

69 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 .ᐟ | toji fushiguro

hehehe ty jazz, i'll do my best for youuu ☆☆☆

𝐜𝐨𝐧���𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m! receiving) - 69 position - oral (f! + m! receiving) - impact play (spanking + f! receiving) - overstimulation - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pet names (baby, doll, mama, pretty thing) - mention of saliva/spit. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k

“Wow….this movie kinda sucks.”

“Mhm…Aye, y’re the one who wanted to watch this shit.” 

“Well, I mean, at least it’s…semi-enjoyable.”

Toji and you were sitting on the couch, winding down in the living room after a nourishing dinner. One of the many things you liked to do with your man was to watch movies, figuring that would be a perfect thing to do during the downtime to chill and huddle with your man. What you didn’t expect, however, was how underwhelming the movie seemed. 

It was one of those rated R movies batted around within the year, figuring now would be an ideal time to get to it. Welp, it was entertaining enough for you two to continue watching. Now, being midway through, it’s getting a little frustrating to deal with. 

“Oh, okay…” annnnnd now the film has transitioned to an abrupt sex scene….how great. “I guess this is why it’s rated R.”

The sex scene you two were watching was…average at best. You’ve seen way spicier scenes in your life — hell, literal cringey porn you’ve watched with your friends was heavily more explicit than this. There was the rushed kissing, the frantic clothes coming off, no amount of foreplay whatsoever — just heading right into it, exaggerated cries coming from the woman as the guy frantically humps her nude frame.

You observe the scene through a neutral gaze as you lay against Toji’s side, his arm stretched to your shoulder to keep you close. But then, your head tilts when something on the screen catches your attention. 

The camera pans to the guy’s face, who’s lying on the bed as the other straddles them, facing his lower half. For a few seconds, you can only see the guy’s face until the camera follows him going closer to the girl’s ass that’s hovered before him. His tongue sticks out before he propels his mouth to her bottom, and her muffled moans can be heard off-screen with his grunts. 

Loud, amateur sounds aside, the position sparked something for you to turn and ask the following to your boyfriend: “Hey, Toji?” He hums, feeling the vibration of his voice from your hand on his chest. “Have you ever done that position?”

You can see his eyebrows trench down — not bewildered by your question, but pondering how he could answer truthfully. “Mmm…I think so? Been a long while, though.”

You nod aimlessly with your eyes glued to the screen, hearing the woman’s whimpers get a bit louder as the guy grasps her ass while “eating her out.” The thought of being on top of Toji and his mouth and hands on your body like that, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to remind yourself not to get too—

“Why you ask; ya horny?” Well, you can’t be too modest around this man, huh. You finally turn to look at him, prepared for the smirk he greets you with. A smile is all you reply with. “Sorry, baby, I don’t know about tonight. Kinda tired.” 

For a few seconds, you’re on his side. You understand he’s a little fatigued from work today and only wants to chill with his partner. However, a tiny part of you – the devilish cutie side – takes over and slides your hand from his chest. Down to his hard abs covered by his black wife beater, stopping at his clothed inner thigh, resulting in him hitching his breath. 

“Tired?” You say in a soft tune, your eyes peering down to your hand as it rubs on his thigh, inching further and further in. You take note of Toji’s fingers tapping on your shoulder – a silent warning. “Are you sure about that?” 

“You better move that hand, Y/n.” His body jolts when your hand creeps up to his groin, motioning around it with provocative kneads. 

“Hmm, why?” You play coy, placing kisses on the underside of his chin. “You tired of me?” 

He throws his head back at your soft lips, attacking his neck while your hand comes to the hem of his sweatpants. A shaky breath is released at the contact of your cold fingers on his warm erection. “Hmmm…could never be tired of you….Ahhh,“ your forefinger swipes around the glans.

“Then what are you so scared of?” You keep pressing on, sucking on his skin under your lips. His length gets firmer under your grasp, veins grazed by your fingertips. “Scared you wouldn’t last longer than me?”

“Ohh, don’t play with me, Y/n,” Toji grunts, the hand on your shoulder grips your cardigan. His erect cock throbs on your palm, and precum begins to leak out from you, playing with the tip. “–Mmmph…I already told you I wasn’t feelin’ it tonight.”

Liar, you say to yourself, noting him breathing slowly while you massage his balls. “Please, Toji?” You ask sweetly to his ear, his hand coming down to your waist as you stroke him off. “I never done that position before, but it looks real fun…I wanna do it with you.” 

Toji doesn’t give in easily, looking at you with a raised brow. So you throw in another please with an innocent pout and two bats of the eyes to seal the deal. He chortles; how can he say no to you looking at him like that? “Bet I can make you lose within the first few minutes.” 

You beam at him, “Bet I can make you cum first.”

“Y’re not gonna last for very long, princess, I can promise you that.”

A smirk pulls your cheeks. “Let’s try it out then.”

And just like that, with a mutual agreement, the challenge was put to the test. 

So here you are, straddling on top of Toji on the living room couch, both your bottoms and his sweats on the cold floor. Your bare ass out in front of him to see as he lies with his head on the couch pillow. Your front facing his legs, and his dick erected for you to lick and suck on. 

It started slow in the beginning; Toji massages your asscheeks as you lick around the glans and stroke his girth. “Mmmm, just like that, mama,” he praises, egging you on to take in more of him. Your mouth bobbing up and down his shaft, gradually taking in inch by inch until your mouth reaches the hilt. “Fuuck, feels so good…”

You aren’t forgotten either, Toji starting with slow licks, his tongue lapping your labia. You mewl on his cock, voluntarily moving your hips to satiate the throbs of your cunt. Shit, you love it when he eats you out, but this position makes you turn on even more — unable to see what he’s doing, letting his hands and tongue speak for himself. 

And you have to give it to yourself; you mangled to survive for a little while! The first minute was just him warming you up, teasing your folds with swishes to get you real wet as you blow him, his fingers groping your ass as his thumb plays around your ass taint. It all had you riled up, rocking your lower half so much that the man had to station you still for him to feast on your wetness properly. 

It wasn’t until you felt his tongue brush up on your clitoris did shit get serious. One sharp, muffled gasp paired with a jolt from your body. Of course, Toji noticed, his grin coming from ear to ear. “Oh, did I do that?” Yes, you did, you bastard. “Heh, you are not ready for this, baby…”

He says this before stuffing his mouth back into your leaky chasm so his tongue could swirl around your slit with vigor so rough that you nearly choked on your gasp for air. “—Oohh!! W–Wait, Toji, not so—Ahhn!” Fast licks have you squirm, prompting your man to keep you on him with his hands on your waist. It’s hard to concentrate giving Toji a blowjob with him nibbling on your labia before throwing more laps on your clitoris. 

“Wait, Toji, s-stoop; I’m gonna—Nnaaah!” Your fingers clamp around his girth, howling as he bullies his tongue to enter your vagina, his face buried nose-deep in your ass while sucking on your genitals. “Fuuck, oh shit, I can’t…Ohh, ohhh!!”

And just like that, you release into his mouth before you could even prepare yourself. Your trembling figure jolts with every shock coursing through your body. And Toji drinks your essence with every passing wave, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you straddled above him. 

Oh fuck, the clarity you experience is mind-blowing every time he eats you out — whimpers escape pretty lips as your sensitive nerves still receive gingerly laps on your soapy folds. That felt way too good, oh my God…

But it doesn’t stop there — no, no. Not with Toji, too pleased with how he made your legs tremble before him. He snickers while spreading your folds, “Pretty thing, look at you winking at me...Nnmm, so fuckin’ good…”

He brings his mouth back to your cunt, and you jerk from the contact as your body is still not rid of the shocks from the previous orgasm. You frantically call for him, trying to writhe your ass away from him. “Ohhnn, Toji, wait, let me rest for a—Ahhhnn!!“

A sharp pain comes from an abrupt smack to your buttcheek, the skin stinging from the impact of Toji’s hand. “Aht, aht, don’t try and run now. You talked big earlier, even when I warned you.” He smacks your ass again, his fingers digging deep into your flesh to pinch. You scream for him — that’s what he wants. “Now you’re gonna sit right here and let the winner have his fill.” 

You can’t argue with him from there; Toji’s hold on you not giving in to your attempts of mercy — same for his mouth on your delicate labia. The noises coming from there are so raunchy, downright erotic, way more than whatever the hell that movie was doing. You could only wail out your cries, eyes spiraling up to your head from every lap to your clit. No point fighting the pleasure, resting your head on his thigh.

But that was short-lived because Toji was quick to correct you with another slap to your butt. Shit came out of nowhere, almost choking on your spit. “C’mon now, doll, you can’t leave me hangin’ here. Suck me off, princess.” He rubs the pain on your butt away, yet you know he’d do it again if you weren’t compliant.

You bring his fat cock back to your face, licking on the tip while stroking him. You take in the head and suck him in, bobbing your head and coating his length with your saliva. Kisses to his glans result in him burrowing his face into your ass again, hungry lips ravishing your tender insides. Jesus, the way his tongue flicks on your clit has you humming on his cock nonstop.

Oh, God, oh fuuuuck, you remove your lips from Toji’s dick, yet your hand keeps gliding up and down. “—Mwah! Hoohhh, oohhh, Tojiiii…! Again, I’m gonna cum, again….Khaa—Ohhhhh!!”

The second orgasm hits you hard, more keenly than the last, and your body quivers on top of Toji once again. Whines come from wet lips as you descend into your haze, and your toes curl as Toji doesn’t withdraw himself until he’s satiated his thirst with every remnant of your fluids. 

With every jolt and shock flowing down your frame, you use this time to let your body ride this high out, placing chaste kisses on Toji’s cock. That is until you feel Toji suck on your folds suddenly. You jump and quake, turning around to beg. “Stooohp; let me rest, please!”

He gives you a smug look with a playful smack to your hot, stinging butt. “Done being curious now, mama?”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 1 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: Your ex-boyfriend gives you his dealers number, but you don’t expect for him to be so fine. And you certainly don’t expect him to be so goddamn flirty. (3.4k)

WARNINGS: descriptions and dealings of recreational drugs (weed), little bit of swearing, slight sexual themes and lots of shameless flirting. THIS IS A MODERN AU!!

A/N: the first part is here and I’m so excited!! Im still unsure how many parts this is going to be, but there’s a lot I want to happen in this series so probably (I’m guessing!!) six or seven, but we’ll see!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

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Your patience was wearing thin. Very fucking thin. Those three grey dots mocked you as they bubbled at the bottom of the screen—disappearing and reappearing again—until they were replaced with another less than satisfying message.

Brandon: are you taking the piss? Why didn’t you just ask when you were here earlier?

You scanned the message over, swallowing back the groan at the idea of another potential argument. You needed to nip his attitude in the bud, you weren’t entertaining his bullshit anymore. Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, your fingers quickly typed a response.

You: I didn’t realise I was out until I got home. Can you get any or not? Just lmk

The dots appeared again after a few moments of silence, and you prepared yourself for the snarky remark he was most likely to give you, and took a deep breath to compose yourself in advance.

Brandon: no. I can’t get you any. Sort it out yourself for once.

There was no way in Hell you were going to let your frustrations show. Despite the pure anger and annoyance that began to bubble even more within you.

Brandon could be a lot of things. A liar. A cheat. And a fucking asshole. In all honestly, the only thing he was truly good for was the occasional above par fuck and the fact that his dealer had the best weed you’d ever smoked.

But when they were the only two good things he had going for him, it was hard to justify the disgusting behaviour he showed throughout almost your entire relationship. You broke up every few weeks as it was, but if you’d known about the cheating before, you would’ve left for good sooner.

Instead, you found out a year and half into the relationship, coming to the deafening conclusion that he had, in fact, never been faithful for a single moment of his adult life.

Fuck him. And fuck his shit sex. The weed, you could get yourself.

You: lmao ok. What’s his number?

A heartbeat after he read the text, he was calling you. And the moment you answered the call, he was his usual, un-charming self.

“What the fuck do you mean what’s his number?”

“Hello to you, too.” You murmured, tucking yourself under the blanket on your couch.

His clipped tone didn’t startle you, didn’t worry you about any form of consequences. He wasn’t scary, even when he tried to be. He was just a douche.

“What do you mean what’s his number?” He repeated himself, that agitation growing thicker and thicker with every word he spoke.

“How else am I supposed to get any?”

“Find your own dealer.”

He was being bitter now, pathetically so. You picked at the aged edges of your book, a novel you’d read five times over but one you couldn’t get enough of. Your love for it could be seen by the fading print of the front cover and the severely broken spine—despite how careful you tried to be with your readings.

“Brandon, I’m not going to find a random dealer. Your Azriel guy has good stuff and I know it’s safe. Besides, me going to the same person as you is not going to affect you in any way.”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over your words. Despite his dreadful personality and lack of love and care and compassion, he knew how little you knew about marijuana. He was the one that taught you to roll, after all.

You’d barely smoked before you met him, and on the rare occasions you did get high, it was usually in the form of gummy edibles your friends had. And you weren’t addicted or reliant on it in any way. You just enjoyed a smoke every now and then if you’d had a long day.

Alcohol had never been your favourite, and you much preferred to feel the chilled buzz from a joint than cradle a hangover for two days after a soirée.

“Fine. I’ll text you his number. Say Marco gave it to you, it’s a code he made up—had cops on him a while ago. He can be a bit of an ass, don’t let him shit talk you. Ask for a 3.5, he usually charges 40 for it. It’ll last you a couple weeks unless you’re planning on smoking heavy.”

It was easy to be pulled back in when he was like that. When he did the bare minimum of offering advice on things he knew you weren’t too sure on. But you were better than that now, smarter. You weren’t going to fall back into your old ways again.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

“I’m not. Thank you.”

The line went dead as soon as the words left your mouth and a few moments later, he texted you Azriel’s number. You would’ve appreciated a reminder of what you were supposed to ask for but at least you got his number. Small wins. You weren’t his responsibility anymore.

It took you a few minutes to figure out what to say, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed and erased, typed and erased. Until you settled on ‘Is this Azriel?’ and finally sent the message.

Ten minutes passed and you didn’t get a response. Your nose was tucked back into your romance novel as you chewed on the drawstring of your hoodie. In all honesty, you could’ve quite easily slipped into a peaceful slumber under the warm golden glow of your lamps.

That was another thing Brandon couldn’t respect. Your No Main Light rule. The vibes were always immaculate with gentle warmth from lamps. The main light was not allowed on under any circumstances. You much preferred the cosy feeling of golden hues that accentuated the deep green leaves of your plants and vines that scattered the walls and crevices of your home.

Your phone chimed from your lap, a small surge of anxiety pulsing in your chest. You unlocked the screen and read over the message.

Azriel: depends who’s asking.

Ah, Brandon did warn you. You considered fucking the whole idea off. Maybe cracking open a bottle of wine and snuggling on the couch with a book or tv show would be better than having to meet this asshole, but the bottle of White Zinfandel wouldn’t give you the mellow buzz you wanted.

Not unless you had at least four glasses which was usually paired with a hangover the next day. Something you did not want to entertain. So, you bit the bullet and typed your reply.

You: y/n, got your number from Marco. You about?

The more you let your mind wander, the more you realised how little you knew. You had no clue how this sort of thing worked. Would he come to you? Your home? Would you meet at a location of his choice? Or would he just stash the weed somewhere for you to collect and you don't cross paths at all?

But the burning fire of the what-if anxiety was quickly trampled and extinguished when another text came through and instead of him deciding for you, you were given choices.

Azriel: sure, I can meet you at old tower in 20 if that’s good for you? If not I can drop to your location.

He didn’t seem as much of an ass now. No, quite the opposite. But you supposed that offer was something he probably gave to all new, female clients. If he truly was an ass or not, you couldn’t fault him for the consideration.

Old Tower was the old old watermill tucked slightly away in the centre of the city. It had been derelict for years, but due to its location—so close to all the necessities and right opposite the police station—no one ever tried to break in or set it alight like the many other derelict listed buildings had been in the past.

Even now, at almost midnight, that part of the city would still be bustling with city-natives and tourists alike. And you appreciated the safe and public meeting spot he suggested.

You: old tower in 20 is fine.

As quickly as you sent the message, you received another reply. A text describing his blue Mustang and his licence plate. You shook the nerves off as soon as they came. Azriel was respectful and well known. He dealt to make his money and that was that.

But the facts didn’t stop you from sharing your location with Brandon just in case, nor did it stop you from double checking you still had your little pepper spray clipped to your keychain.

The walk to the Old Tower wasn’t a bad one. There were many ways you could access it, most of them leading you through the city, but here were a few that hid you behind back roads and alleyways—those were routes you never took. Not on your own and certainly not in the middle of the night.

The air was still a bit sticky from the summer heat, and while the denim shorts you wore kept your body cool, you were grateful you kept on your hoodie—just that extra layer that protected your arms and shoulders from the chill of the breeze that your legs never seemed to experience.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the Old Tower, and it took even less time to spot the electric blue 2022 Ford Mustang. Small tufts of white smoke emitted from the exhaust as it sat in its standstill, headlights facing the opposite direction of what you came in, but you could still hear the engine humming from your short distance away.

You double checked the licence plate to the number Azriel texted you, and slowly made your way closer. While you didn’t know much about drop offs, deals, and weed in general, you did know the unspoken rules of picking up. And if you were picking up from someone in a vehicle, most people got inside for a few minutes before leaving.

Azriel must’ve noticed you from the rear view mirror because just as you approached the back of the car, the passenger door opened wide, inviting you in. You sucked in a breath but accepted the invitation, keeping your eyes forward as you settled into the warmth of the leather seat and closed the door shut.

You finally let your body shift and your eyes met his. And you were fucking done for.

You’d never seen a man so strikingly fucking beautiful before. He was tall, lean and muscular and oozed pure sex and charisma. Tan, golden skin and dark, luscious hair that swept loosely down his forehead and curled gently around the tops of his ears.

His face was chiselled not too sharply, a subtle gentleness to the stark contrast of the cold, brooding aura he carried. And those eyes. Christ, those fucking eyes. Hazel iris’ that dripped with a golden hue of honey.

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and willed your lips to part so you could finally speak. “Thank you for meeting me so late.”

And Azriel was absolutely hooked.

When you’d texted barely thirty minutes ago, he did not expect to be meeting with someone so fucking gorgeous. Your soft hair was twisted in a loose braid that hung over your shoulder, wayward strands having fallen from the updo and framing your face mesmerizingly.

Your eyes were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen; rich in colour and wide with slight anxiety, despite the sleepiness he could slightly notice beneath them. Your voice sounded like a fever dream. It wasn’t sickly sweet like most women he knew or dealt to. Perhaps it was just the sleep, but there was a rasp—a very slight ruggedness—in your tone and Azriel was certain he’d never heard something quite so sensual in his life.

He cleared his throat, that all too cheeky grin teetering on the corners of his mouth. “I was already out,” he shrugged, nonchalantly. “How much are you after?”

His voice was a perfect blend of sweet and rough. A deep depth to his tone that skipped hand-in-hand with a sweeter note. God, he was unreal, and the sound of him had you forgetting entirely what exactly Brandon told you to ask for.

You pulled your lips between your teeth and offered a very sheepish—but mostly embarrassed—smile. “Um… I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologising for the second time tonight. “My ex used to do this part, so I have no idea how this works.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks at your own admission, couldn’t handle being the subject of his firm gaze, and you absolutely could not fucking handle the soft rumble of rich laughter that chuckled through him.

“Do you smoke a lot?” Azriel finally asked, a slightly amused smile on those full lips of his. His pink tongue swiped out to wet them and your heart thundered against your ribcage at the sight.

“Not really,” you cleared your throat. “Just every now and then. Semi-regularly, I guess.” There was no such thing as semi-regularly when it came to drugs and alcohol. To someone’s own self, sure. But not the general mass that consumed whatever it was they did.

Some considered three joints a day ‘semi-regular’, while others considered it as a joint every few days. Azriel had a feeling you were the latter, but he didn’t say anything about his thoughts or what you’d said.

Instead, he hummed and chewed at the inside of his cheek in thought. He wasn’t laughing at you or your lack of knowledge or understanding. Usually, he’d have kicked a new client out of his car by now and told them to figure it out on their own—he was a dealer, not a fucking private tutor—but with you, he didn’t seem to mind explaining or breaking things down so it was easier to understand.

Neither of you quite understood why he was happy to explain, but you didn’t complain. You’d much prefer this than the alternative version of him that you’d been warned about.

“A 3.5 would probably be best for you, then.” He decided.

Yes, a 3.5… that sounded very familiar. You nodded, slowly, considering your next words carefully. You had already disclosed the most embarrassing part of not having a fucking clue how this worked, one more probably wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of your neck. “But can you break that down in joint terms?”

Azriel laughed again, softer this time, through a breath. It was odd, really. He wasn’t laughing to be cruel or to embarrass you further. It seemed to you that perhaps he found it endearing—your innocence on the matter—and maybe, just maybe, you reminded him of himself when he too at one point, had no idea either.

“It depends on how strong you have them. Do you smoke blunts or just joints?”

Your eyes widened animatedly. “God, no. Just joints. I think a blunt might wipe me out.”

A glint of warmth and light fluttered through his eyes for a split second. “So, a 3.5 would get you like seven joints.”

“Yeah, that would last me like a week, two weeks.” You nodded. “I’ll have a 3.5 then, thank you.”

Azriel hummed in agreement, and it was only when he reached for the centre console and flipped open a compartment that you saw his hands. His golden skin was marred beyond belief, etched in burns and an array of pigmented colours. Your stomach lurched at the sight. Not from fear or pity or disgust, no. Your stomach twisted in agony, your brain couldn’t comprehend a reason for scars like that.

You looked away as quickly as you clocked them, not wanting to stare and not wanting him to notice. You supposed he was used to lingering gazes, but you would not be a name added to that list of people.

Azriel did nothing but make you feel comfortable in the brief few minutes of meeting one another. He was kind enough to not laugh in your face and kick you out of his car after your admittance. You were not about to make him feel uncomfortable either.

He pulled out a small plastic baggie stuffed to the brim with forest green nuggets and handed it to you between two scarred, pinched fingers. You took it gratefully, a full and genuine smile on your lips now as you thanked him, reaching into the back pocket of your denim shorts for the cash.

“Did you want me to roll them for you, too?” Azriel’s teasing voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes snapped to him with a stern look. “‘Cause that’ll cost you extra.”

“I know how to roll, thank you.” You bit back, and while your voice and tone held all the conviction, the amused glint in your eye and the corners of your mouth told him he hadn’t offended you in the slightest.

“It’s twenty-five.” Azriel chuckled from beside you.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled out two twenty’s, meeting his gaze again. “Isn’t it usually like forty?”

The air now smelt of that tangy, vile scent, something that you don’t think you’d ever get used to. Or enjoy. He shrugged, flipping down the lid of the compartment between you. “You’re a new client.”

You raised a brow now, a taunting smirk creeping at the corner of your mouth. “Do you always undercharge new clients, then?”

Azriel liked you. Very much. You didn’t shy away or hide your personality from him, even after only knowing one another for barely an hour in total. He had a feeling he was barely scraping the surface.

He matched your stare, only he wasn't teasing. “Only the pretty ones.”

There was no hiding the heat that crawled up your neck and sat heavy on your cheeks. It had been a long while since you received a genuine compliment. Let alone one so forward and from someone so unexpected. You averted your gaze from him, looking at the two twenty’s in your hand. Raising them, you pursed your lips.

“I only have two twenty’s on me. So you may as well take the full forty.”

Azriel didn’t listen. Instead, he pinched one note from your hand, his skin brushing yours but you didn’t falter, didn’t shy away. He was warm, and despite the scars and marred skin, his skin was softer than you expected.

You huffed, not ungrateful for the discount but this was his livelihood and taking away from that felt wrong to you.

“Let me know when you’re out.”

You smiled appreciatively and nodded, stuffing the bag and cash into your hoodie pocket and reaching for the door handle. “I will. Nice to meet you, Azriel.”

He watched you climbed out of the car, offering another warm smile as the cooler evening air kissed at his skin. He wanted to ask how you were getting home, if you’d be walking alone or if you needed a ride. But Azriel couldn’t cross those lines, especially not with someone he only just met.

So he bit his tongue and prayed to the Mother above to get you home safely. “You too, Y/N.”

He started up the engine again as soon as the door closed, but he didn’t drive away. He watched you through the rear view mirror until you were out of sight and when he finally looked down, he found his jeans tight around his crotch and a painful erection.

“Fuck.”

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If you enjoyed it, please give it a like and reblog and let me know what you thought!! Thank you for reading <3

Smoke & Light ONLY Tags

@smalljasper289 / @sttvrdustt

Azriel Tags

@serxndipity-ipity-blog / @erencvlt / @azswife / @lili-of-the-wildfire / @dreaming-unafraid / @dr4g0ngirl / @coconut-dreamz

[catsoupki]

柔軟了，老了 / mellowed out (bakugou x reader)

Summary: as a juvenile, he was vigorous, zealous in every step, he blasts himself everywhere and at top speed. But with life, his edges are not as sharp anymore, not when he has you to come home to

Warnings: girl dad bkg :) this is just a drabble lmao, you two have children ! and also a dog i think

wc: 450

older bakugou who learns to finish up fights and missions quickly, all with the goal of returning home early to you and your children, despite him having always made fun of his boss for doing the same during his prime days when he was still a sidekick

his shower isn’t at all reaching his standard of the deep cleanse he always does after long and hard missions in far away forests and mountains, the grime and dirt are probably still visible under his neat fingernails, his palms are dry but he didn’t bother taking out his lotion, after five minutes, he’s out of the agency, hair still wet, clothes not fully shoved inside his duffle bag, his steps are fast-paced and hurried, he speed-walks to his porsche in the parking lot

(eijirou watches all of this with a warm smile on his face, however many times he was chastised by a younger bakugou for slacking off for his wife and kids and however many times he answered with ‘you’ll understand one day’ wouldn’t suffice for the absolute smug pride he’s feeling right now, oh how his best friend has grown)

he’s barely going the speed limit on the road, his grip on the steering wheel is firm, the leather familiar in his hold, he’s leaned back, he’s relaxed, because he gets to walk through your home and into your arms soon enough, that all the work he’s done in the past month in okinawa, kilometres away from musutafu was more than worth it

the wheels on his car don’t align with the lines at his parking spot, it’s wonky and sideways but he doesn’t care when he slams the door closed and forgoes his belongings in the car because they’re not going anywhere, but the time he can spend with you and your head tucked in his neck is

he can hear his children’s laughs all the way from the garage, your giggles and light scolding are all but endearing and even from the outsider, it’s visible that he’s no longer fifteen year old, angry and frustrated, the bright grin he has on as his daughters jump in his arms sits comfortably on his mellowed out face, stubble and all

the things older bakugou would do to hear the words ‘welcome home, papa!’ are limitless

his daughters crowd around his legs and gag when he kisses ‘i missed you’ into your lips, your smile is evident throughout, his brats will run off to play with the dog and he will get you all to himself, against the kitchen counter, messy hair and dirtied clothes, bakugou wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

[sturnioloszn]

ICE BOUND (1) - M.S

summary; you accompany your father to his coaching session when your eyes land on his star player and captain, matt sturniolo.

warnings; smut, oral (blowjob), throat-fucking, praising, begging, dirty talk, pet names (just pretty girl lmao), think that's it?

a/n; it was a veryy close poll, but ice hockey matt won by the slightest. also, my next post will be about a taglist, and if you want to be part of it, more info will be there!

P2, P3

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

It was mid-december, and thick snow covered the ground. The icy winds still managed to bring me goosebumps even when I was wrapped in a large jacket, gloves, a beanie, and a scarf. The snow beneath my worn down shoes crunched with each step I took, and small snow flakes landed on the exposed areas of my face.

"Thanks for coming, y/n," my dad speaks from next to me, breaking me out of my thoughts. We were currently walking through the parking lot to reach the entrance of the local ice rink. I offered to watch one of my dad's practice sessions. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, he was down to this rink training his team of players, readying them for the tournament that was quickly arriving.

"Of course," I say, flashing a small smile. We finally enter the building, a surge of hot air hitting us. I instantly start taking my layers off, discarding them in one of the lockers. I was now much more comfortable in my baggy jumper and jeans.

I made my way to the rink, claiming my spot on one of the back row benches. Not many people came to the practice sessions, usually a parent or some friends, but that was it.

After a few moments, I saw a group of boys alongside my dad walk out of the locker room and onto the ice. My dad forced them to do three laps around the rink to warm up and then the practice actually began.

I watched them intensely, swinging their sticks and making the puck fly from one end of the rink to the other. I knew the basic rules due to the fact that my dad was literally an ice hockey coach, and I grew up around the sport.

After half an hour or so of this, I noticed one of the guys had a 'C' on his jumper. C? Captain? I never knew my dad allocated a captain already. Usually, he likes to mention random stuff like that, but I don't remember him ever talking about this.

Brown strands of hair peaked out through his helmet, and he proudly wore the number 4 and the surname 'Sturniolo' on his back. I don't even recall seeing him on the team at all. I guess the last game I came to see was about a year ago. Still though, kid managed to place captain in less than a year. He must be an ice hockey prodigy or some shit.

My focus remains on him the rest of the time. He glided smoothly on the ice, and his passes were clean. It was clear to see why he was captain. He must have felt me burning holes into the back of his head, and his eyes met mine. I instantly move to look at my shoes. Shit. That's embarrassing.

After almost two hours of practice, they begin to wrap up, and they all head towards the locker room. The last off the ice was the one and only prodigy himself. I walk down the benches as he skates off the ice and takes off his helmet, giving me a clearer view of his face. I go sit next to him on the bench as he's undoing his skates.

"That was a good game," I initiated the conversation, looking down at his red hands fiddling with the laces.

"Thanks, you watch often?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

"Um, not really, but I know a thing or two," I say, giving a sly smile. He chuckles before looking back to his skates.

"Yeah? Who y'here for?" He asks again, probably referring to one of his teammates. He must think I'm either one of their girlfriends or one of their sisters. Well, I'm neither.

"Your coach," I reply. My answer makes his head snap to look at me; there's a look of shock played on his face. "I'm his daughter," I clarify, smiling once again.

"Oh. I was worried for a second," he breathes out. I tilt my head to look at him.

"Why would you be worried?" I question. He finally pulls his skates off his feet and replaces them with a beat-up pair of air force 1s. Sitting so close to him gives me the opportunity to really look at his face. He has a strong jawline, with defined cheekbones and a beautiful side profile. His hair was a similar shade to mine, and it was parted down the middle. But his most shocking feature was his icy blue eyes; from far away, they looked brown, but up close, they were a beautiful light, frost blue.

"Because a pretty girl like you can do much better than a man like him," he admits, turning to place his attention fully on me. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and I'm sure it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"That's still my dad, watch your mouth," I say, swallowing down my butterflies. He raises his eyebrows and puts his hand up surrendering.

"You know I meant age, you can do better, age wise," he explains.

"Alright then, how old are you?" I ask boldly.

I can tell my question caught him off guard, but nevertheless, he answers, "I'm 19, you?". I tell him I'm the same age, and he just nods. I don't like his silence. It felt wrong. Hearing his voice felt... right? I quickly think of something else to ask to keep the conversation going.

"So... you haven't been here long, have you?". I'm pulling at straws, but it doesn't matter. He explains that he recently moved to Boston with his family and that he needed to find a new team to join so that he could keep up ice skating, so here he was.

I then asked him about being captain and how the hell he managed to claim that title so quickly. He said something about leadership and blah blah blah. To be completely honest, I wasn't listening; I was too busy drowning in his eyes to hear anything that was coming out of his pretty lips. His lips. They were the perfect shade of pink, and they looked so soft and plump. Fuck. He looked so kissable.

I took another look at his face, a dusty pink had settled onto his cheeks, and the beads of sweat that were previously on his forehead had dried down. Every now and again, he'd also rake his hand into his scruffy hair, trying to adjust it, and every time he did do that, I'd nearly melt. He looks edible.

"Are y'even listening?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. I'm slapped back into reality when I realised that I was, in fact, not listening.

"Um..totally...?" I reply. I didn't even convince myself, let alone him.

"What're you thinkin' about?" He asks. He doesn't even care that I wasn't listening. He cares more about what was occupying my mind instead of being pissed about what was coming out of his mouth.

That's a rare trait that many hockey players do not have. Self-awareness. That the world doesn't spin around them. But little did he know that it did spin around him because even though I wasn't paying attention to him speaking, I was only focused on him.

"..nothing," I answer, moving my eyes to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with him.

"Right... well, it was fun talking, but I gotta shower," he says, standing from the bench and looking down at me. No. I didn't want him to leave, but at the same time, the thought of hot water streaming down his soapy body was doing things to me. I feel my underwear dampen at the thought, I push my legs together, and his eyes skip down to my thighs.

He smirks before speaking again, "you know where to find me if you need," and with that, he made his way to the showers.

I went to find my dad, who was wrapping himself back up in his coat, to fight the weather. I tell him that I might actually go for a skate and that I'll make my way home soon. But in reality, I was going to go hunt down his best player.

I waved my dad goodbye and checked around the rest of the building for the rest of the team, but it seemed that they had already left. This is perfect.

I pushed the door to the showers open, and there's a running one. I slowly approach it until I'm standing behind the curtain. Holy shit. The only thing between me and his naked body was a sheet of fabric. What would happen if-

"Were you planning to just stand there quietly, or were you going to say something?" He speaks. My face instantly blushes, how the fuck did he know I'm standing here?

The water abruptly stops, and a few seconds later, the curtain is drawn back. To my disappointment, there was a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. However, a pretty noticeable outline was pressed into the towel.

He spots me quite obviously staring at his groin. "Something you want?" He asks, grabbing another smaller towel and rubbing it onto his hair, drying it slightly.

At this point, my pussy is throbbing. Every word that comes out of his mouth adds another layer of wetness to my panties.

I nodded at his question before lowering myself to my knees. Now, this he didn't anticipate. I cringe at the feeling of the wet patches on my jean-covered knees.

A smirk grows on his lips, "you wouldn't be able to handle it,". Pfft, I'm yet to meet a man whose dick is bigger than their ego.

"Try me," I challenge. He gives me the nod of approval, and I tug the towel off his hips, letting it fall to the ground.

Well. I guess I've met the man whose dick is bigger than his ego now. Let's just say he has a very, very big ego.

I'm taken by surprise when his cock slings free and hits his stomach. I look up at him, and there's hints of desperation plotted on his face.

"How bad do you want me to suck it?" I speak sultry, placing my hands on his thighs, not giving him the relief he craves.

"So fucking bad," he admits, allowing his right hand to move to the back of my head, inching my face towards his tip. I then grab the base of his dick, pumping it painfully slow, watching beads of pre-cum build on his tip.

I stick my tongue out ever so slightly and go to lick up the salty beads that have accumulated. While I'm there, I place a few soft kisses on his swollen tip. By now, his head is thrown back, and his hand is tangled in my hair.

"Shit," he breathed out. I looked back up at him, and his eyes were shut and eyebrows furrowed. He looked so beautiful. I bring my mouth closer and barely take him in my mouth, sucking lightly.

I then ease more and more of himself into my mouth until my nose is almost pressed up against his pubic bone. I low groan escapes his lip. I then pull him out completely, and he shudders at the loss of contact.

"Please, just make me feel good," he pleads. God, could this man get any sexier?? I instantly comply and take him into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks. I move my head back and forth, engulfing his cock. He fills my mouth perfectly.

I then bring the hand that's not resting on his thigh to his balls. I slightly toy and message them, and the sound that left his lips was heavenly. I take him out of my mouth again and move lower to suck on his balls. He's lost all sense of composure at this stage.

"I n-need to cum... please, please, please," he moans while I move back to his cock. This time, I wrap my lips around him and take a hand to stroke him simultaneously. He bucks his hips forward, forcing me to take most of his length down my throat. It's not long until I feel his legs becoming weak and his moans grow in volume.

He places both his hands on either side of my head, "keep still and let me fuck your perfect throat," he grunts out, and I let him do just that. His tip hit the back of my throat over and over, making me gag on his cock, but this just encouraged him to keep going.

"F-fuck, you're doi-fuckkkk, doing so so g-good for me," he stutters. I can tell he's on the edge of euphoria and I moan around his cock to help him reach satisfaction. I feel his warm, bitter cum shoot down my throat. His hips are slowing down, and he lets go of the side of my head. I swallow his cum completely, sticking my tongue out to show him.

"You're amazing," he huffs out, helping me up from my knees.

"I know, I am pretty great," I grin. I then look down and notice the uncomfortable wet patches on my knees. He notices my discomfort and offers his spare pair of sweatpants, and I don't decline.

Once we're both dry and changed, he offers me a ride home, acknowledging the fact that everyone had already left a very long time ago. The ride home is enjoyable and not awkward at all, which was unexpected. I then realise that we did all of that but I don't even know his name, and I never told him mine.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning to look at him. He was focused on the road.

"Matt. What's your name, pretty girl?" He asks. I blush at the nickname, before responding.

"Y/n, but I prefer pretty girl," I smile. He turns his head to look at me with the same smile played on his lips.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; next post is gonna be regarding a taglist, so make sure to keep updated if you want to be added to that. anywayy, thank you for reading this oneshot, love you all 💙

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: That one episode of teen titans where they all dress up as Robin + Tim being a gremlin about his legacy + Danny look alike/twin AU.

So there is that episode of Teen Titans where Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven all dress as Robin (Dick) while he's out and it's admitted that the outfit makes them feel cool. Imagine a young Tim hearing that story mentioned in passing by Dick while trying to manage what becomes Young Just-us. And then when Damain becomes Robin?? Gremlin mode activated.

Tim hosts regular 'Robin' Parties, where the idea is that you come in Robin colors, get a mask at the door and everyone gets to basically hang out in civilian clothes without the identity crises for those just getting started. "age appropriate" drinks, games, and good music are all staples. The parties become more frequent once Damian becomes Robin and he pointedly doesn't attend Tim's parties which... Neither of them are really happy about. Family is complicated, but finally, after a few years of cooling off, it's decided that Robin will actually host this years Robin party.

Meaning Tim shows up in casual clothes (MIT sweatshirt) and a mask, and Damian is actually dressed as Robin when the party is starting to get into the swing of things. The point of it is to make sure all the young heroes get to come and start to befriend each other, so there are a few people who show up and have to actually say that they're *insert alias* and this is met with basically "Dope, nice to meet you Robin" etc.

Insert Danny Twin AU (Or just look-alike fuckery) (for either brother but my brain is on Tim Twin au mode).

Danny decides to show up as his human self, grabs a mask at the door before coming in, and is slowly integrating himself into a conversation when someone grabs his arm- "Hey Red your brother is fighting with a newbie about meat products again-"

And Danny doesn't have a brother but my god has he heard this fight too many times with Sam and Tucker- He's going in and he's defusing this situation because he cannot handle the thought of this argument taking over his new friend group. He deals with it enough, okay?

Robin (like, the real one) looks at him curiously while Danny is talking down the other hero Robin (insert here), and the whole room notices when Robin doesn't take the opportunity to dismiss or belittle his older brother (Lmao because its danny). Damian cannot place his unease about Drake (again, Danny, who is not hiding his identity beyond a mask), and simply decides that this isn't worth the effort.

The party moves on but now instead of everyone calling themselves Robin, Danny is distinctly being called Red. It confuses him a bit, he didn't even know Red Robin was going to be at this party (he hasn't met the guy and doesn't know the lore), but he rolls with it because he's made fast friends with Robin (Bart), Robin (Cassie) and Robin (JON). The kid was full little bro energy and it made Danny laugh, he was so surprised when the real Robin joined them and fell into easy conversation with Robin (Jon).

Danny is playing games with a few others when someone goes to grab a broom to clean up- Turns out Red Robin and his boyfriend Kon had been making out in the closet for most of the party- and the whole room looks at Danny like he's tried to trick them. Tim is at first uneasy that so many people mistook him, but once he's in front of his dupe, puzzle pieces start to move around in his head.

"And who are you again, Robin?" Tim asks carefully, though he suspects he has his answer.

"Uh, Phantom, but you know, a lot of people were calling me Red tonight and I didn't get why until just now." Danny laughs nervously.

"Yeah I bet- Find me monday and we can see about a geneology test."

"That leaves us the whole weekend, to do what exactly? Fuck with people by pulling a parent trap style swap?"

"Nature vs. nuture and all but I don't know how you could be anything but my brother with a question like that." Tim grins and they get to scheming.

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your daughter is starting to show character traits and abilities that you have no idea where she could have inherited them from. In the meantime, your husband is growing frustrated with Celebrimbor when it comes to forging the rings.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — There will be a second part where she finds out who her husband is but in this one she remains oblivious, although there are signs of course – to which the Reader is blind and deaf. 🤣 I have probably butchered the lore but I didn't even bother to google much about it because I had my own idea how to write it. 🙈 The Reader is a half-Elf because it is useful in Sauron's scheme (trying to convince Celebrimbor to forge the rings for men – Celebrimbor is like a father to Annatar's wife). What I know about the canon, though, is that Sauron actually spent centuries in Eregion. So, in this fic he spends a few years, which is still not a lot but longer than in the show.

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar but she keeps describing him as kind and noble, Annatar is not the best father (I don't think the fic should trigger anyone because it's not like he's awful either but I want to mention it here just in case), immaculate conception (sort of... lmao I don't know how to describe it), birth (not much of a description)

WORD COUNT — 6,460

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (I)

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you announced after approaching the human king standing by his horse after arriving back to Eregion.

You had seen him around before but you had never truly had any opportunity to talk to him. He had been so busy with the man you considered to be your uncle and your guardian that it had seemed inappropriate to ever interrupt their work. And now he was back and even filthier than the last time you had seen him. He wanted to speak to your uncle but Celebrimbor had made a promise to Lady Galadriel to never treat with this man named Halbrand again.

So you stood there and announced the news as Celebrimbor’s most trusted person in Eregion; a daughter of his old friend and one of the best human smiths he had ever worked with – and such exceptions for the Elven master were not many. And even though you had not inherited your father’s abilities to forge beautiful things, you were the most useful to your guardian when it came to helping him run Eregion smoothly. Celebrimbor was often too occupied with his work to notice or deal with certain matters. That was where you would walk in and help him just like your mother had taught you before she had decided to move to Mithlond.

Eregion was your home, though, therefore you had not left with her. The memory of your father was too painful for your mother to be here but you were quite the opposite – you loved to live in the city your father had spent most of his life in.

But without your mortal father and without your mother, you were quite alone. Lord Celebrimbor, whom you called an uncle, was truly the only person you had.

Just as you expected, though, the human king did not want to accept the information as he smirked at you.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked you.

“My uncle is occupied,” you explained, calmly. It was not the first time you were dealing with people of this sort. “But he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away.

“Are you asking me to leave?” Halbrand inquired you sighed softly as you froze and turned around once more, to face him again.

“The Lord of Eregion is asking you,” you answered, patiently.

“Perhaps I’ll just wait here,” the man smiled awkwardly and petted his horse. You admired his stubborn will even though it was an inconvenience to you and your uncle. “Just in case he changes his mind,” he added and turned around to tie his horse to the column. And as he did that, you spotted that his tunic was torn on his back, revealing long and fresh wounds on his skin.

And perhaps the Elven part of you would just turn the blind eye and leave but the human part of you pitied him. Yes, however it sounded like – your relationship started with pity. And the thread of understanding because you were aware of the weaknesses of the human flesh. You had seen your father suffering from the injuries that your Elven kin would heal from nearly instantly. You had seen his body growing weaker as he had been getting older; more fragile. And because of your love towards your father, you had known and understood Halbrand’s pain in a way that most Elves would not.

Therefore, you became the human king’s greatest advocate in front of your uncle. You were the one to tell Celebrimbor about his injuries, pleading to at least offer Halbrand the help of the Eregion medics. He did not agree. But when the evening came, you brought it up that the night was cold and asked your uncle if you should bring Halbrand a shawl.

So, perhaps it was a shawl that started it all – at least it was this way in Annatar’s version of your love story. And whenever you would ask your husband why he had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens of Eregion, he would always remind you that you had been the only one who had treated him with dignity and had cared for him even when he had been still in his human form.

Despite that noble reason for his affection towards you, it still felt surreal to be courted by the emissary of the Valars. You were a half-Elf with no exceptional talents… And yet, for you, a man of such lightness, who was chosen by the gods, would give up some of his privileges and stay in Eregion to work alongside your uncle and be your husband? It was nearly suspicious in a way but neither you or Celebrimbor ever thought of it this way. To Celebrimbor you were like his own daughter that he had never had. When Lord Annatar asked for your hand, he felt proud and blessed. And so did you, writing a letter to your mother in Mithlond with shaky hands to ask for her permission to marry.

But your mother was not really a part of your life anymore and she was a different person after your father’s passing. She agreed without asking any further questions.

A year after his arrival to Eregion, you became Lord Annatar’s wife. It was the happiest day of your life because after a few centuries of loneliness with no one but your uncle by your side, you could start a family of your own. And to have a family was all you had ever wanted.

You were standing by the window and staring at Eregion underneath with a dreamy gaze as the cool breeze refreshed your face and made your hair dance slightly in the air. You took a deep breath in and felt the overwhelming energy filling up your body. Married life was giving you a new sense of meaning and joy, especially with a man like Annatar – the kindest, the gentlest, the most noble and most humble. Even though his grey and simple robes had been recently replaced and he began to dress more elegantly, you knew that the change had not been his idea. It was Celebrimbor’s because he wanted your husband to present himself respectable enough for the rest of Eregion.

You felt your husband’s hands touching your arms as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his presence. He stood behind you and buried his face in your hair to place a kiss upon your head in that quiet moment of the morning before he would have to join your uncle in the forge and you would have to go downstairs to help with the administration matters.

“I have realised recently, my love, that I still have not given you any wedding gift,” Annatar pointed out softly and you opened your eyes to turn your head around and look at his beautiful face.

“It’s been months since our wedding… I have not even thought of that…” You admitted. “Because, to me, you are the grandest gift, my love,” you replied, truthfully. He smiled at you adoringly and caressed the side of your face with his fingertips but there was a playful sparkle dancing in his gaze.

“You are my wife and I am the Lord of Gifts. I shall spoil you with many,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Is there something you want? Something you want very badly perhaps? Name it and I shall give it to you,” he murmured as his hands wrapped around your waist and you felt your cheeks heating up. You looked down nervously and Annatar chuckled. “I can see there is something… Name it, my love.”

You hesitated. Perhaps he would find it to happen too soon. Perhaps he would find it not suiting him at all. But he was your husband with whom you had shared your whole heart, soul and body. He deserved to know about your desires.

“...A child,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly, still too shy to look up at his face.

You could sense his muscles flexing around you and becoming more stiff. The atmosphere changed in an instant and you regretted your confession immediately. After a long while of silence, you swallowed thickly and looked up eventually, filled with anxiety. Annatar’s brows were furrowed and his eyes lost the playful sparkle. He did not look angry but a bit confused and torn.

“F-forgive me. I know that a woman like me is not worthy of carrying a child of a man like y–”

“Stop it,” Annatar shushed you quickly and cupped your face to caress your cheeks with his thumbs as he kept staring deep into your eyes with a gentle expression. “I do not wish to hear of it. You are my wife. There is nothing you are not worthy of,” he insisted and you sniffled your tears back as he sighed. “If a child is what you wish for, I shall give it to you,” he announced after a short while but you could feel the hesitancy.

And you felt bad about it but you craved to have his child so much that you decided to ignore that hesitancy in his voice.

Therefore, you only nodded and you felt your husband’s hands lowering themselves onto your arms. He turned you around, so you would face Eregion again. And once you did, he placed his hands on your abdomen. At first, you found his gesture very sweet as your muscles relaxed. But the longer you stood like that in silence, the more uneasy you were starting to feel. There was a weird feeling forming inside of you – a new wave of energy coming from his hands and filling up your womb. Was it possible that…?

Well, he was an emissary of the Valars. He had many abilities and powers that the simple Elves could only dream of. You did not question it.

When he removed his hands, he kissed the back of your head and you furrowed your brows as you clutched onto the fabric of your dress on your abdomen.

“I can feel… I can feel a new life,” you turned around to meet his gaze. He was smiling at you kindly and lovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I… I did not expect it would happen like that…”

“I am in full control of the act of my own procreation. It would not happen without my consent and will,” he explained and you nodded at him, too grateful and overjoyed to question anything.

Annatar placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed them as you let out a happy laugh through the tears of joy. With his free hand he wiped your tears gently.

“Were you in control of choosing if our child would be a boy or a girl, too?” You wondered out loud. Your husband nodded with a slight smile. “What will the child be then?”

“You will see, my love, be patient and allow it to be a surprise,” he leaned in to kiss your lips delicately.

For some reason, you were sure it would be a boy. Despite Annatar’s gentleness and kindness, he was a master of his craft and a man of tradition. He would surely want a successor.

You were so convinced that you were carrying his son that in the conversations about your child, you often referred to them as he. Annatar would only smile at you sweetly but also playfully.

Your child was born on a warm, summer night. You were in bed, surrounded by the female medics of Eregion. Celebrimbor was in his forge, nervously drinking wine and pacing around. But Annatar was by your side, holding you in his arms and letting you squeeze his hands, encouraging you gently with his sweet words and you swore, he was making some of the pain go away somehow. Whenever you squeezed his hand tighter, he would place his free one upon your forehead and the pain would slightly subdue.

The sound of your baby’s cries was like sweet music to your ears and your eyes filled with tears when one of the medics handed you the screaming newborn.

“It is a girl, my Lady,” she told you with a smile and you laughed out of happiness, taking the little one into your arms as you stared at her in awe.

“A girl?” You whispered, looking up at your husband. You were surprised but not disappointed – to have a little girl with Annatar was a vision of the future so beautiful that you could not stop the fresh tears from streaming down your cheeks.

He did not say anything to that, he only smiled sweetly at you and fixed the sweaty strands of your hair that got stuck to your forehead. Then, he leaned in to kiss the top of your head.

“How do you want to name her, my love?” He asked. “Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” you fixed him and tried to hand him the baby. He froze for a moment but he eventually took the newborn child into his own hands as he kept staring at the little face with a very unreadable expression. “A-are you happy?” You asked, suddenly getting anxious.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Annatar nodded as his face lit up with a big grin. You sighed with relief and caressed the little cheek of your baby girl.

“Almárea,” you whispered. “Blessed.”

Focused on staring in awe at your little baby girl in her father’s arms, you nearly did not notice that he did not give you any reply. So, eventually, you looked up at him questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Annatar nodded eagerly. “It’s perfect,” he assured you and handed you the baby back. “I shall inform Celebrimbor. He will be the most delighted,” he stood up and left the room.

A few years passed as your husband was helping your uncle to forge the rings that would save Middle-earth. And your sweet little Almárea was growing in the meantime – the older she was getting, the more you could see that she was a physical copy of you.

When you had asked your husband about it, he had answered that it had been the result of the fact his physical form was not definite, therefore his child could not inherit any physical traits. It was making you a bit sad because you would love to see bits of your husband in your offspring but you also did not want to complain about the things that did not truly matter in the end.

That she was Annatar’s daughter there was no doubt. It was something about her soul; her inner light differed from the other Elves. You could feel from the very first time you had held her that she was stronger and more powerful than any of the Elves inside Eregion. You were sure that she was truly blessed by the Valars due to her father’s origin.

When it came to Almárea’s character, though… You sometimes wondered what was causing the constant mischief, which was innocent but still present. She was a little deceiver and a little liar very often as she kept making up stories, playing tricks or making people believe the most absurd stories. Sometimes she was able to make people even see the things she was describing. Like that time when she kept blabbering about the beautiful butterflies flying all over the room.

And you saw them. You saw them all – shimmering in the light in all the possible colours. They were so beautiful that you kept laughing and trying to catch them as Almárea giggled. And that was how Annatar found you after coming back to your chambers from the day in the forge.

“What are you doing?” He froze, a little taken aback as he glanced at his daughter and then back at you.

“The butterflies, they are–” You tried to explain.

“Mummy is trying to catch the air, daddy. Is it not funny?” Almárea asked and you furrowed your brows at her.

“But the butterflies–” You started but as you looked around, they all disappeared. You looked at Almárea with a sour expression and she laughed.

“Oh, mummy, I am sorry. It was funny to watch,” she admitted to use treachery as she ran up to you and hugged your waist.

You did not like how malicious – even if in an innocent manner – some of her jokes were. But you could not be angry for too long. Not at your sweet little daughter.

“Oh… Well…” You hesitated nervously and patted her back. “It is quite alright, my dear. But that was not nice.”

“How did you do that?” Your husband asked, a little harshly. You gave him a soft look, trying to calm him down.

“She did not mean to be cruel, she had no idea that–” You began to make excuses.

“I am not talking about the so-called joke. I am asking about the illusion. Almárea?” Annatar approached you two and put his hand on your daughter’s arm to turn her around. The movement was not rapid but it was most definitely quite harsh.

“I just… I just think of something very hard and… And I can make people see things,” Almárea tried to explain as she looked down. “Is it something bad to do, daddy?”

“You are too young to play with such a gift,” Annatar’s face changed quickly from harsh to kind and gentle again as he smiled at Almárea and caressed her cheek. “Unwillingly, you have just been cruel to your mother and I am sure that was not your intention. You should stop playing with it for now,” he explained and Almárea nodded.

But you knew already that she would probably not listen. It was not in her nature to follow anyone’s requests, pleas or orders. 

The day started like nearly every other. You woke up in your husband’s arms and he was awake already – sometimes you wondered if he ever slept at all because you had never witnessed him doing so.

The hour was still early and you watched the sun rising in the skies outside your window, exchanging kisses and love declarations. However, on this day, your husband seemed to be a little tense when you peppered his jaw with  sweet little kisses. 

“What is it, my love?” You asked as you lifted yourself up on your elbow, still looking at his beautiful face and tracing the outlines of it with your fingertip.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar sighed and held your wrist softly as he put your fingers on his lips and kissed them gently.

“Why? What is it?” You furrowed your brows.

“It is about Celebrimbor and I know that what I am going to reveal is going to hurt you deeply, my love,” his eyes filled with sadness.

“Now you simply must tell me… You know how dear he is to me,” you shook your head, trying to read his face but all the years of sharing your life with Annatar, you had learnt already that it was an impossible task to ever know what was truly on his mind.

“I have spoken to him recently…” Annatar began and let go of your wrists to put his hands on your waist and roll you over onto your back as he hovered above you. “...about the rings that must be crafted. The Nine rings for the nine human kings to help their kin as well.”

“Yes…?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and gasped when his skilled fingers pulled your nightgown up. All those years of being his wife and his touch could still ignite the fire within you. You wondered sometimes how he was able to do it.

But now, with his fingers roaming all over your exposed skin, your mind was in haze and you were not able to think clearly.

“Oh, darling, I have no idea how to tell you… But your uncle does not think of humans to be worthy enough to have such rings,” Annatar revealed and you froze at his words as your eyes widened.

“T-that is impossible,” you refused to believe him although he would never lie to you. “My father… He was human and uncle Celebrimbor loved him and adored his craft. He loved him so much that he raised me after his death. It is impossible that now he refuses to forge the rings for humans… No, I refuse to–”

“That is the truth,” Annatar’s voice sent shivers down the spine since it had gotten harsh all of the sudden. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I am not accusing you of lying, I simply–”

“Yes, you are,” Annatar looked deep into your eyes as a spark of anger sparkled in his. His jaw was clenched and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, which was causing you slight pain. “He refuses to fulfil his mission and he thinks of your father’s kin as lesser.”

“I shall speak to him,” you promised as tears filled your eyes. Annatar softened immediately as his fingers went back to caressing you and he leaned in to kiss away the small tears upon your cheeks.

“Thank you… That would be very helpful,” he muttered between the kisses. “My love…”

You loved serving breakfast the most. You loved feeling useful and to take care of your family. It made you feel fulfilled in a way nothing else could, even though you did not mind running Eregion in your uncle’s name when he required it. However, seeing Almárea and Annatar by the table, eating the food you had prepared and talking about their plans for the day… That felt the most precious and the most special.

On that day, she looked up at you with big, pleading eyes as she watched her father preparing to leave for the day. He was standing in front of the mirror and swiftly tying some of his hair strands into a bow, which would protect his eyes from being interrupted while he worked.

“Can you do the same to my hair, mummy?” Almárea asked you. “I want to wear it like daddy.”

“I shall do it,” Annatar smiled at you both as he approached the breakfast table to stand behind your daughter’s chair. “Mummy must leave now and speak to uncle Celebrimbor,” he gave you a meaningful look and you nodded your head.

“Yes, that is right,” you confirmed. “Can you take her to her class once you’re done tying her hair?” You asked him sweetly.

“Oh, of course,” your husband replied and you kissed his cheek before leaning down to kiss your daughter’s forehead, too.

After that, you left your chambers and hurried to Celebrimbor’s forge. You were scared of this conversation and you had no idea how to start it as well. You couldn’t hide the fact that Celebrimbor’s sudden change of views hurt you deeply. You hoped that you could convince him to make up his mind but even the emissary of the Valars could not. On the other hand, you were closer to Celebrimbor than Annatar would ever be. He was like a father to you these days.

When you went inside the forge, it was empty. And even though you were supposed to look for your uncle, you could not help to just roam around for a while and take a deep breath in as you smiled to yourself at all the sweet memories you had with this place – like your father… 

He had been working alongside Celebrimbor and you would run around happily – sometimes getting scolded, sometimes being shown many interesting details about their craft. Sweet little half-Elven girl that would always make everyone laugh. And as time progressed, you had been growing up but not ageing – and for your father it had been the opposite. He had not been growing up but he had been ageing. And, one day, he had eventually become too weak to use the hammer.

Remembering all those bittersweet moments, Celebrimbor’s voice startled you a little as he stood by the railing of the stairs leading up to his study.

“(Y/N)?” He asked and you looked up with a soft smile.

“Uncle Celebrimbor,” you sighed with relief that it was only him you were seeing and not some sort of phantom or a ghost. You gathered your skirts and walked upstairs to join him. “I am here to speak with you… About a rather delicate manner,” you informed him and looked him up and down carefully.

Truly, he had changed. He looked exhausted and a little uneasy as if he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. You immediately found compassion for his state.

“I am aware that crafting such powerful items has cost you a lot and you must feel overworked…” You started. “I know you have finished the rings for the dwarves not so long ago and I am not here to rush your progress. By all means, take your time, uncle, but your views about humans–”

“Was it him? Did he send you?” Celebrimbor’s face changed immediately. He looked concerned and a bit… scared? You froze at that reaction.

“What do you mean by that? Of whom are you speaking? My husband?” You asked, taken aback. “First, you are insulting my father’s kin… My kin as well… And now… Now you are trying to insinuate something about my husband? The emissary of the Valars?” You raised an eyebrow. “It was me who came up with the idea of speaking with you.”

“Have you not noticed yet, my sweet child, after all the years of your marriage, that he plants the seeds of ideas in people’s minds to make them think they came up with them on their own?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Even if it is true, I do not see what is wrong with it. He is here to fulfil the Valars’ plan to save Middle-earth. How can you say that forging the rings to save humans is below you?” You shook your head. “Protecting that which is most fragile, most dear, is a task entrusted to all Elves,” you reminded him. “If you abandon half of my kin now, in the hour of darkness, I shall never forgive you, uncle,” your voice trembled when you tried to reach his eyes with yours, to show him all your love towards him – but also all your pain.

“I do not think lowly of humans. I loved your father, he was my dearest friend… I just… I needed an excuse to deny your husband,” Celebrimbor sighed and looked away.

“Oh, uncle, if you are overworked, he is going to understand and give you time,” you put your hand on his arm but he flinched. “Annatar is the kindest, the gentlest soul I have ever met. You used to think the same of him. What happened?”

“Do you…” Celebrimbor’s eyes found yours, “...do you trust him?”

“With my life,” you gasped at the question. Of course you trusted your husband. What kind of question was that?

“Very well then,” your uncle nodded and sighed before running his hand down his face. “I might be overworked indeed… I need a break. And after that, I can go back to forging the rings. My senses are beginning to fool me,” he confessed. “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to hurt you with my words.”

“Oh, poor uncle… Please, rest. Annatar will understand,” you assured him softly and wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug.

But Annatar was not as understanding to hear the news as you had been suspecting. He was smiling but the corners of his mouth twitched when you finished telling him how the conversation with Celebrimbor had been like.

“Of course, he can wait. He is an Elf. He lives for an eternity. But for the humans in Mordor time remains priceless… They suffer each day and their lives are short. I expected that you would know something about it, my love,” your husband nodded his head and walked away, leaving you a little speechless and hurt.

He was right. You had not fought for your kin strong enough but you also had too much love for Celebrimbor in your heart to keep arguing with him.

“I do understand, my darling. But I also have never seen my uncle in such an awful state,” you admitted. “He needs to rest,” you added, trying to make Annatar realise that, too. “He is not going to forge excellent rings when he is overworked and losing his senses.”

“He must finish the rings before they finish him first,” Annatar turned around to look at your face. His expression was quite harsh and it made you take a step back, therefore he softened immediately while approaching you. “My love, I am so sorry… I do not mean to be like this, you know that, right?” He put his hands on your arms. “But we are running out of time. Forging the rings for the dwarves took us years. It is going to take us another few more to forge the rings for humans, too. Therefore, we should start as soon as possible,” he tried to explain calmly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a heart in me to push Celebrimbor…” You shook your head and Annatar walked away rapidly as he turned his back on you to look out of the window. You spotted his fists clenching and unclenching but he remained silent. “I… I shall go to pick Almárea up from her class… I think she should be ready now,” your voice broke a little.

You had never expected you would have to choose a side between your uncle’s and your husband’s. They seemed to be such close friends and now…

But, before you left, you hesitated and turned around to look in your husband’s direction.

“You really should not…” You whispered, “force him to do it too soon. His mind is in the most fragile state now… He even… He accused you of–”

“Accused me of what?!” Annatar turned around quickly, startling you.

“I don’t know what exactly… But he asked me for some reason if I trusted you…” You confessed.

“And what did you tell him?” Your husband demanded an answer and his eyes turned cold. It was nearly impossible to remember at that moment that they could be so kind and loving, too.

But they were only this gentle way when everything was going according to his plan. And, so far, everything had been like that. Until now. 

You were aware, however, that his unusual anger was caused by the pressure that the gods themselves were putting onto his shoulders.

“I told him I trusted you. Of course I did. Annatar, you are my husband…” You answered, surprised that he had questioned you like that. “Perhaps both of you need a break. You are acting differently, too,” you pointed out before leaving to walk your daughter home after her class.

On your way home you bumped into your friend Mirdania. She began telling you stories from the forge and Almárea was growing bored as she stood there, holding your hand and drawing circles with her foot.

“Almárea, you can go upstairs already,” you informed your daughter. “Daddy is there.”

She nodded at you and waved Mirdania goodbye as she ran away to disappear inside the tower in which your chambers were. You watched her with a smile on your lips, especially at the sight of the bow in her head – now slightly crooked after a few hours – trying to resemble her father’s one.

Mirdania kept you occupied with her chatting for a longer time after that and you kept listening to her with a soft smile but when she eventually informed you that she had to go back to work, you were grateful. You went inside the tower with a slight eye roll as you began walking upstairs to go back to your family.

When you opened the door and heard Almárea’s giggles, you smiled widely, expecting her to play with her father as they sometimes would. But when you went inside the room where they were sitting together, you spotted Annatar being on the verge of lashing out. Almárea was chuckling and tilting her head slightly – an undeniable sign that she was projecting something onto her father’s mind at this very moment.

This time it was you walking in on Annatar being fooled. But he was not about to take it as lightly as you.

“Stop it,” Annatar drawled out. “This is not funny. Stop it!”

“What is going on here?” You looked at your daughter and her smile froze. “Were you not forbidden to play your tricks, Almárea?” You asked her and approached Annatar to put your hand on his tense shoulder.

“Daddy wanted me to try!” Almárea explained and stopped the visions from happening.

“You did?” You looked down at your husband with a raised eyebrow but he only stood up and walked away to stand on the balcony. He was angry and visibly unsettled. “What did you show him?” You asked your daughter.

Something was telling you it had not been butterflies.

Almárea shrugged her arms and avoided your gaze. You furrowed your brows and sighed, following your husband outside.

“Do not be upset, my love. I am sure whatever she has shown you was of an innocent nature,” you began softly. “Now you know how it feels like when she’s in one’s mind,” you chuckled nervously. “She did not mean to scare you.”

“It was not the vision itself that scared me,” Annatar turned around to look at you. He was still disturbed and surprised as his fists clenched around the railing of the balcony. “It was the fact I was not strong enough to make it stop. Could you ever do that?” He asked you and you opened your mouth a little. “I should be able to make it stop easily.”

“I have never tried,” you admitted. “I do not know, I cannot say…”

Annatar snorted at that and looked away again. His knuckles turned white from squeezing the railing so hard and you put your hand gently on top of his.

“Why does her power scare you?” You asked. “Is it of an evil kind? If so, how could that happen? You are the emissary of the Valars; made of pure light–”

“And you?” Your husband turned around again to meet your gaze. “What do we truly know of your heritage? Was your father not from The Southlands? And the humans of this realm… Were they not the ones who had followed Morgoth out of their own free will?”

His words hurt like knives. You took a step back and shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. The man in front of you was not the man you had married – gentle, soft, kind, noble and humble. But you refused to believe it was his fault. He had changed just like uncle Celebrimbor – and it was all caused by the fact they had been working so hard… too hard… on the rings.

“Mummy… Daddy… I am sorry,” your daughter’s voice interrupted you as she entered the balcony as well. She looked up at the both of you and sniffled. Your heart clenched at the sight and you crouched down to fix the bow in her hair.

“It is quite alright, my dear. It was not your fault, you only did what daddy asked you to,” you gave your husband a stern look.

“I…” Annatar cleared his throat. “I was simply curious about this… gift.”

“Is it evil, daddy?” Almárea dared to look up at him with so much curiosity, respect and admiration that your heart filled with love once again you chose to forget about his hurtful accusations.

“No gift is good or evil, Almárea,” Annatar smiled softly at her as his eyes filled with kindness again. “It is us who choose how we use our gifts.”

“Daddy is right,” you nodded and kissed her forehead before standing up and Almárea hugged Annatar’s waist. He put his arm on her back and caressed it although he still looked as if he was overthinking something.

“Can I go to uncle Celebrimbor now? He promised to teach me a little about the gemstones!” Almárea smiled widely at you and you nodded. She clapped her hands and ran out of your chambers.

“I am going to start forging The Nine on my own, by the way,” Annatar announced to you when you were left alone with him. “Celebrimbor might join when he’s ready. However, the work must not stop,” he pointed out.

You bit on your lower lip and eventually nodded your head. You approached him and caressed his shoulder, though, trying to soothe him.

“I wish you gave yourself a break as well. You are overworking yourself,” you whispered.

Annatar held your hand and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. At this very moment he was radiating nothing but love, warmth and kindness. You squeezed him tighter and sighed with relief.

“Do not worry about me. I am going to be nothing but fine but I shall not rest until all Middle-earth is healed. Forgive me for my previous harshness,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Please, do not even mention,” you shook your head and kissed his lips briefly before giving him a sweet smile. He smiled back at you and cupped your face to caress your cheeks. “What did she show you, my love?” You asked, still curious. Annatar’s face went back to serious immediately.

“I asked her to show me something nice,” he explained. “And so she did… She showed me my greatest desire.”

“And that is…?” You frowned.

“The rings. All of them. Forged,” he answered and you nodded.

“She is too young to understand the importance of these items and your mission in Eregion…” You pointed out. “How was she able to penetrate your heart like this?”

“Now you know what truly scared me, my love,” Annatar nodded softly and the fear in his eyes was truly genuine but you spotted a sparkle of excitement there as well.

“Should I worry about her?” Your voice trembled.

“No, no… Not at all,” your husband pulled you closer once more to soothe you. “Her gift – if used correctly – might be the most useful for all the peoples of Middle-earth.”

“How so?” You mumbled out the question and Annatar hesitated with the answer before smirking slightly.

“Only time will tell.”

MASTERLIST

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

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[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Hiii I saw ur recent post and idk if this is any help but what about an Ethan Landry x Carpenter! Reader smut? So basically reader is Sam and Tara’s little sister, she’s like one year younger anyways it can be something where they all go to the same college and are in the same friend group. And the reader has always had a crush on Ethan since she got accepted in Blackmore with her sisters and her and Ethan are really close like best friends so she doesn’t wanna ruin the friendship, but at the frat party they all decided to play spin the bottle and reader gets ethan and yk they make out but then after the party Ethan starts avoiding reader cuz he’s always liked her to he js got in his feelings and thought it was awkward. But after like reader cries to Tara and Sam and stuff Tara knocks sense into Ethan and they makeup and confess and well yk what they do next lmao but this js popped in my head and ur my favorite Ethan writer so pleaseeee consider writing this tyyy🩷

Hiiiii💕 This is the first thing I've fully written in a while, so I hope you like it!!

All I Want - Ethan Landry x Fem!Carpenter!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: See ask box lmao. I probably ruined the suspense but that's okay💀

Contains: Underage drinking, Oral - f receiving, p in v (My brain is done for the day so if I'm missing anything, let me know.)

W/C: 7.7k

A/N: I'm still a little rusty, but this was the first thing I've written in forever that wasn't absolute fucking clown shoes lmaoooo. Also, if you see any spelling/grammatical errors, no you didn't 💀

When you moved in with your sisters right before you started your freshman year at Blackmore, the last person everyone expected you to get the closest to was Ethan. He wasn’t the most social, but that’s what drew you to him. He was really quiet the night you first met him, which only made you want to talk to him even more. You talked for hours, learning so much about each other as he came out of his shell, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

Sam was just as protective over you as she was with Tara, and once she noticed you and Ethan were spending a lot of time together, she cornered him in the kitchen one night when he came out of your room to get a drink during one of your many study sessions.

“What’s going on with you and my sister?” Sam questioned, as Ethan’s cheeks turned bright red. He felt so awkward and uncomfortable as she stared him down. “Are you going to answer me?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Nothing’s going on. We’re just friends.”

“There better not be anything going on,” Sam warned, “And I know you stayed over in her room the other night. I’m not okay with that.”

“Nothing happened,” he said, as he glanced at the floor. “It won’t happen again.”

“I swear, Ethan, if you try anything with her,” Sam got out, before Ethan got really frustrated with the situation.

“I can’t be her friend without wanting to get in her pants?” Ethan questioned, as Sam was taken aback at his tone change. “You’ve known me for a year now, and I know you worry about her just like Tara, but do you really think I’d do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, as she relaxed a little, realizing she was in the wrong for questioning him like that. “She’s been hurt before, and I don’t want her to go through that again.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I just want to be her friend. Guys and girls are allowed to be friends without there being something else going on,” Ethan said, as she sighed and nodded. “Do you care if I study in her room with her? Or would you rather have us in the living room so you can keep an eye on us?”

“You can study in her room,” she said, as Ethan walked away from her with his drink in his hand.

Ethan wasn’t lying when he said that nothing had happened between the two of you, but he was lying when he said he just wanted to be your friend. The only person he’d mentioned his crush on you to was Chad, who immediately shut it down, knowing that Sam would have no problem killing Ethan and disposing of his body if he ever did try anything with you. Chad knew Ethan was a good guy, but with how skeptical Sam was over his relationship with Tara at first, even though they’d been friends since childhood, she knew it would take a lot longer for her to even begin to warm up to the idea of you and Ethan being together. If that wasn’t enough of a reason to keep him from saying anything to you about the way he felt, the possibility of him making things awkward and fucking up the friendship if you didn’t feel the same definitely was.

When Ethan walked back in your room, he saw you laying on your stomach, stretched out across your bed as you looked at your phone.

“I thought you got lost,” you said, looking at him before you glanced back at your screen. “What took you so long?”

“I was busy getting grilled,” he said, as he was about to sit down beside you, before he sat in your desk chair instead, just in case Sam walked in.

“Getting grilled?” you asked, as you adjusted yourself so you were sitting up. “Why?”

“Wellll,” he said, shifting awkwardly in the chair. “Pretty sure your sister thinks I’m close to you because I’m trying to sleep with you.”

“Oh my god,” you said, as you hopped off the side of your bed, ready to confront her.

“Wait,” he said, as you hesitantly came to a stop and looked at him. “I kind of got pissed and raised my voice a little. That was terrifying enough. I don’t need you snapping on her and I end up on her shit list because she scares me.”

You laughed at Ethan’s words and the nervous look on his face before you went back over to your bed and sat down.

“Why did she have to make things weird?” you questioned, as you laid back and looked at the ceiling.

“It’s okay. I told her I’m only interested in being your friend,” he said, his words like a punch to your stomach as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You’d always had a little crush on him, but now you felt stupid for feeling things he didn’t. “Oh, and I don’t think I should stay over ever again. She mentioned that, too.”

“We literally fell asleep with the lights on and our laptops in front of us,” you sighed, “The only reason she’s being weird is because she saw a box of condoms when I was unpacking after I got here.”

“Oh,” Ethan mumbled, his leg bouncing as he sat in silence for a few seconds. “Should I expect a boyfriend to come visit and want to kick my ass?”

You giggled at his words as you sat back up, “No, I just didn’t want to leave them at home and have my mom go through my stuff while I’m gone. I didn’t want to have that awkward conversation with her, but I ended up having it with Sam.”

Ethan cracked a smile as you cringed the more you thought about it. “Well, at least she knows you’re being safe.”

After that day, you decided to hang out with Ethan at his apartment instead. It was a lot less awkward than dealing with Sam wanting to play the role of a helicopter parent, and because Tara was always there, you got to hang out with her more than you did before.

“What do you guys want to do tonight?” Chad asked, as the four of you sat around the living room. “There’s a party at Kappa Sigma.”

“Oooh, my first college party,” you said, getting a little excited as Tara stared you down. “What?”

“I don’t think you should go to a frat party,” she said, before Ethan spoke up.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“College guys can be really convincing,” she said, ignoring Ethan’s comment. “I just don’t want some asshole to take advantage of you.”

“I’ll just stay with Ethan all night,” you said, before you turned your head to look at him. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he said, as Tara sighed in frustration.

“I don’t think you should go,” she said, as you started to get really annoyed.

“I remember you calling me to vent when Sam was doing this same shit to you, and now you’re doing it to me,” you said, as you stood up from your spot on the couch. “I just want to have fun.”

Tara knew you were right, because she vividly remembered how pissed she got when Sam was a little extra-overbearing and wouldn’t let her do anything.

“Fine,” Tara said, taking a deep breath before she continued, “But you stay with Ethan all night, okay? And if you tell Sam, she’ll lose her shit on both of us.”

“Okay, wanna go home with me and get ready before Sam gets home from work, then?” you asked, as Tara nodded and kissed Chad before she stood up.

“We’ll met you guys there in an hour.”

You and Tara hurried to get back to the apartment and get ready before Sam got home, because even though she’d loosened the reigns on Tara, she hadn’t done the same for you. Once you were ready to go and you and Tara were about to leave, you heard the door unlock.

“Fuck,” you sighed, a defeated look on your face as Tara grabbed your hand and opened the linen closet door, before she pushed you inside. “What the fuck?”

“Shhh,” she said, as she closed the door.

You heard Sam greet Tara when she walked in, before she asked her what her plans were for the night. When she mentioned the party, she said it wasn’t set in stone that she was going, just that her and Chad had been talking about it. You rolled your eyes when Sam said you better come back home if they did go, because she didn’t want you left alone with Ethan. It was taking everything in you to not pop out of the closet and ask her what her problem was, but you decided to stay silent and listen instead.

“You know Ethan’s not a bad guy, right?” Tara questioned, “He’s not some creep.”

“I know he’s not,” Sam sighed, “I think she likes him, but after she got her heart broken last year, I don’t want her to go through that again.”

“If she does, she hasn’t said anything to me, and she tells me everything,” Tara said, as you heard the sound of Sam’s keys getting sat on the kitchen counter.

“That’s true,” Sam said, “I’m going to go shower. If you do go to that party, be safe.”

“I will,” Tara said, as you heard footsteps getting closer to the closet.

You jumped when the door was flung open, a nervous expression on your face until you realized it was Tara.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, as you giggled and made your way to the front door.

As you and Tara walked the few blocks to get to the frat house, weaving around the people that were on the sidewalk, she got a little curious as she thought about the conversation she had with Sam.

“Do you like Ethan?” she asked, once you stopped at a crosswalk.

“Of course I like him. He’s my best friend,” you said, as the two of you rushed across the street.

“You know what I mean,” she said, as you sighed.

“Not like that,” you lied, “I’m not interested in having a relationship right now.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, “Because someone told me that he likes you.”

“Really?” you asked, as Tara came to a stop once she noticed the excitement in your voice. “I mean…who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips as your cheeks began to heat up. “You sure you aren’t interested in him?”

“I’m not interested in anyone right now.”

When you walked into the party, you were a little nervous when you saw the sea of people. Tara asked if you wanted to get a drink, and on the way to the kitchen, you bumped into Mindy and Anika.

“Hey!” Anika said, hugging you once she saw you, before she moved over to Tara. You noticed Mindy behind her, her eyebrow cocked as she stared at you.

“Something tells me Sam has no idea you’re here,” she said, as she took a quick sip of her drink. “I didn’t believe Ethan when he said you were coming.”

The mention of his name had the butterflies in your tummy going crazy. You thought about what Tara said, you were sure that Chad was the one that told her Ethan liked you, and he never lied. Mindy noticed you glancing around the party for him before she spoke up.

“He’s in the living room,” she said, the knowing look on her face making you roll your eyes.

“I need a drink. If he’s my babysitter tonight, I want to give him a reason to keep his eye on me,” you said, before you heard Anika mumble, “Yeah, like he needs a reason.”

Once you got your drink, you and Tara found Chad and Ethan leaning against the wall, talking about a new movie they wanted to see. Ethan smiled when he saw you, giving Chad a look before he whisked your sister away, leaving you and Ethan alone.

“Hey,” he said, as he snatched your drink out of your hand. “Sam would kill me if I let you drink.”

“Ethannnn,” you whined, as you tried to take it from him, but he held it out of your reach. “Can I please have my drink?”

“Only if you promise not to drink too much. I’d be worried about you all night after you go home,” he said, as he hesitantly lowered the cup so you could grab it.

“I promise,” you said, a soft smile playing on your lips as you took a sip of it. “So…what do you want to do?”

“Well, I can’t dance,” he said, as he looked at all the people grinding on each other in the middle of the living room floor. “You might not have that much fun with me.”

“I always have fun with you,” you said, your tone flirty as Ethan smirked at you. “We could always go somewhere and talk.”

“Okay,” he said, as he pushed off the wall. He grabbed your hand as he weaved between the crowd and through the house. You eventually ended up in a random bedroom, the sounds of the music thumping very faint as you took a seat on the bed.

You were nervous as you sat with Ethan, because you were trying to find a way to bring up what you were told. You liked Ethan and you loved hanging out with him, and the more you thought about it, you thought about how perfect you could be together.

“So, someone mentioned something to me today,” you said, as Ethan curiously looked at you.

“Oh? What was it?” he asked, and just as you were about to respond, the bedroom door was flung open.

You and Ethan both had wide eyes as a few frat guys and a handful of girls walked into the room, their expressions matching yours.

“If you guys are going to fuck, you need to go to another room,” one of the guys said, as you glanced over at Ethan and giggled once you saw the pink tint to his cheeks.

“We weren’t. We were just talking,” you said, as you stood up.

“Wait, are you guys together?” the same guy asked, as he looked you up and down.

“No,” you said, as he smiled at you.

“You guys want to play a game with us?”

You looked over at Ethan, silently asking him if that’s something he’d want to do before he shrugged.

“Sure,” you said, as you took another sip of your drink.

“Okay, come sit on the floor,” he said, as Ethan stood up and walked over.

You were a little confused once you noticed everyone was sitting in a circle. You and Ethan sat beside each other, waiting to hear what the plan was.

“Is this some kind of weird satanic ritual,” you joked, before the guy chuckled and grabbed an empty vodka bottle off the dresser.

“We’re going to play Spin the Bottle,” he said, as he sat down and put the bottle in the middle of the circle.

Ethan immediately got uncomfortable as he sat beside you, because he felt sick at the idea of watching someone else kiss you. You felt the same way when you noticed one of the girls looking at him, and even contemplated getting up and leaving the room.

“Is that really what we’re playing?” you asked, as a different guy spoke up.

“You don’t want to kiss a stranger?” he asked, “Because I was hoping when it was my turn, it’d land on you.”

“We’re just having fun,” the girl that was checking out Ethan said. “There are some rules, though. If a guy spins it and it lands on another guy, they get to spin again. If a girl lands on another girl, they can kiss if they want or spin again. But these losers like the girl-on-girl action a little too much.”

“Oh,” you said, “I don’t know if I want to play this.”

“Come on,” a different guy said, as you glanced over to Ethan. “You’re a freshman, right? Have a little fun.”

If you didn’t deal with enough peer pressure in high school, you realized it was just as bad in college. You took a huge gulp of your drink as the first person spun the bottle.

As the game progressed, you were a little surprised that no one had gotten you or Ethan. You were getting more and more buzzed as you sipped your drink, and once it was your turn to spin the bottle, Ethan got really nervous. He looked around the room at all the guys that were hoping it’d land on them, and he was a little irritated they were eyeing you like that.

As the glass bottle moved against the hardwood floor, you were relieved when it landed on Ethan. Relieved until you realized you actually had to kiss him. One of the guys groaned in the background as you looked at Ethan, his eyes huge as you leaned in.

“You’ve been drinking. You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to,” he said, soft enough for only you to hear him.

“I want to,” you whispered, before your lips touched his.

You couldn’t put into words what it felt like to kiss Ethan, but after he kissed you back and your mouths were moving together, you didn’t want it to stop. You weren’t sure if the feeling of your head spinning was from the alcohol or kissing the guy you’ve been crushing on since you first got to New York.

Just as Ethan’s tongue brushed against your bottom lip to deepen the kiss, the bedroom door flung open. You pulled away to see your sister and Chad’s panicked faces, the fear on Tara’s face turning to annoyance as she walked over and grabbed your hand to pull you up. You glanced around to see everyone staring at you, the awkwardness of the moment setting in before she yanked you out of the room, with Ethan following closely behind you.

“I asked you to keep an eye on her and you make out with her?” Tara asked Ethan as she shut the door. “What were you guys doing with those losers?”

“Wait, they were making out?” Mindy questioned, making her presence known as she and Anika leaned against the wall. “That’s the most action he’s gotten since he’s been here.”

If kissing you didn’t already have Ethan’s mind racing, the tension between him and Tara and the embarrassment of Mindy basically calling him an inexperienced loser was a little too much for him. He walked away and went straight to the door, leaving you to stand there, very confused. You thought Ethan was just as into it as you were, but once he walked away without saying anything, you wondered if Tara was wrong when she said he liked you.

Later that night when you got home, the party you secretly went to wasn’t a secret anymore when Sam walked into the bathroom to see you leaning over the toilet as Tara rubbed your back. She was livid, because she couldn’t forget the creep that tried to take advantage of Tara at the first college party she went to.

The next day, Sam wanted to talk to you about it, but you had no interest in having that conversation. The only thing you could think about was kissing Ethan, and how every text you’d sent to him got no response. The hangover made you feel awful, but what made you feel worse was the realization that you fucked up your friendship with the guy you’ve been spending time with almost every single day.

After a few days of you only leaving your room to go to class, Sam and Tara both came in your room to talk to you. Their faces showed how concerned they were while yours was blank, because as sad as you were, you’d already cried more tears than you thought was possible.

“What’s going on with you?” Sam asked, as you just sat there. “Can you talk to us? We’re worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you said, your voice showing how tired you were as Tara sighed.

“Did something happen at that party? Because Ethan’s acting the same way you are right now,” she said, the mention of his name making your eyes water. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” you said, your words cracking as you spoke. “I think you were wrong about him liking me.”

“This is what I was worried about,” Sam said, as she took a seat on your bed. Her words pissed you off, because her cornering Ethan to question him and talking to Tara about it instead of just coming to you had been bothering you for days. “I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you snapped, “Maybe if you weren’t so fucking overbearing, he’d still be talking to me.”

“You’re blaming this on me?” Sam asked, the shocked expression on her face making you angrier.

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Tara said, trying to mediate the situation before it got worse. “So, you do like him?”

“Yes, I fucking like him,” you said, the tears streaming down your cheeks as she pulled you into a hug. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

You talked to Sam and Tara for a while before you cried to the point of having a headache. Once you said you were going to take a nap, Tara left the apartment to go to Chad and Ethan’s.

“Hey, babe,” Chad said, the smile on his face as he opened the door for her dropping when he realized she was mad. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Ethan?” she questioned, as Chad stepped to the side for her to walk in.

“He’s in his room.”

She stormed down the hallway and gave his door a few loud knocks before she walked in, glaring at Ethan once she saw him in front of his computer playing games.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she snapped, as Ethan’s face showed how nervous he was. “My sister just cried on my shoulder for an hour because of you!”

“She was crying?” Ethan asked, the guilt weighing heavy on him as her nostrils flared. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“Then why did you?!” Tara questioned, as Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his desk chair. “I thought you liked her!”

“I do!” Ethan yelled back, before he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his curls. “I just needed some space to think. You know how bad I feel about making out with her like that when she’d been drinking? And Mindy saying that’s the most action I’ve gotten all year? I should’ve gotten her out of that stupid room that night.”

“Ethan,” Tara sighed, as she took a seat on his bed. “She really likes you; she wouldn’t be as upset as she’s been for the last few days if she didn’t.”

“She doesn’t think I’m just some creepy loser virgin?” he asked, as Tara shook her head. “Should I call her?”

“She’s asleep right now, but I think you need to talk to her in person,” she said, as Ethan stood up. “If you hurt her again, Ethan, Sam will be the least of your worries.”

Tara stayed at the apartment with Chad while Ethan walked to your apartment. He hated that you were so upset, and he was just hoping that him ghosting you for a few days wouldn’t be enough for you to not want to give him a chance to explain himself.

When he got there and knocked on the door, he was nervous about who was going to answer, but he had to make things right. Sam opened the door, but she didn’t have her usual cold expression painted on her face, a soft smile playing on her lips as she saw how frantic Ethan looked.

“She’s still sleeping,” Sam said, as she stepped to the side. “But I need to talk to you about something before you talk to her.”

“If you’re going to yell at me, I promise Tara laid into me pretty hard just now,” he said, as Sam smiled and took a seat at the kitchen table.

“I’ve taught her well,” she said, before she continued, “I’m sorry that I was a bitch a few weeks ago. I just worry about her, you know?” Ethan nodded in understanding, as Sam sighed. “She really cares about you, and I think you’d be great for her. I’m still mad that you upset her, but if you want to be with her, I’m okay with it. I won’t give you shit, I promise.”

“Seriously?” Ethan asked, smiling to himself as he heard your bedroom door creak open.

He snapped his head in the direction of the hallway, and once he saw how sad you looked, he started to tear up himself.

“I need to go to work,” Sam said, as she stood up from the table. “I’ll let you two talk.”

You stood at the hallway entrance as Ethan sat at the table, the two of you not looking away from each other. It wasn’t until Ethan wiped a stray tear off his cheek that you finally walked over to him.

“Hey,” you said softly, as he stood up from his chair.

“Hey,” he said, as he grabbed your hands and pulled you towards him, your head resting against his chest as he held you. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you, too,” you mumbled against him, before you pulled away. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable the other night.”

“You didn’t,” he said, as his hand cupped your cheek.

You smiled for the first time in days as he leaned down and placed his plus lips against yours. You felt that same head spinning feeling you’d felt before, but as the kiss was getting more heated, he pulled away.

“Can we talk?” he asked, as you nodded and laced your fingers with his, before you led him to your room.

“If I didn’t make you uncomfortable the other night, why’d you stop talking to me?” you asked, as you got comfortable on your bed and Ethan sat across from you.

“I kissed you when I’ve liked you for months and never thought anything would come from it, your sister yelled at me after she saw it, then Mindy had her little comment,” he said, taking a deep breath as he looked at you. “I feel bad that I was letting that kiss go that far when you were drinking, and I know you’d probably want a guy that has experience in the bedroom. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

“I don’t care about stuff like that, Ethan,” you said, as you reached over and grabbed his hands that were rubbing against his thighs. “And I kissed you because I wanted to. Me being buzzed just took the edge off so I wasn’t as nervous.”

“How long have you wanted to kiss me?” he teased, making you laugh a little.

“A while,” you said, as he smirked at you. “I didn’t know you liked me until right before that party.”

“Wait, how’d you find out?” Ethan questioned, as you looked down at his fingers playing with yours.

“Tara said someone told her; I think it was Chad,” you said, as Ethan rolled his eyes.

“I’m annoyed that he told my secret, but I’m happy he did,” he said, as you leaned closer towards him.

“Me, too.”

When Ethan closed the gap between the two of you and your lips moved with his, things felt different, but not in a bad way. You knew you both wanted to be with each other, and you could feel how happy he was to be kissing you.

As the kiss escalated to him on top of you, his tongue moving with yours as your hands tangled in his hair, his hips started to involuntarily squirm. He was about to pull away because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but once your legs wrapped around him and your own hips began to move, he groaned into the kiss.

When he pulled away to catch his breath, you started to kiss his neck all over, searching for his sweet spot. He gasped the second you found it, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed how good it felt.

“I’m so fucking hard right now,” he whispered, a whimper building in your throat once you felt it rub against your pussy over the leggings you were wearing. “Does that feel good?” he asked, noticing the sounds you were making as he grinded himself against you.

“Yes,” you moaned as you pulled away.

You both just looked at each other, waiting for someone to make the next move. You didn’t want Ethan to feel like it was something he had to do, while he was worried that he was pressuring you. He was about to lean down to kiss you again, but you stopped him before he could.

“No pressure, but if you want this to go further, I’m okay with it,” you said, as he smiled at you.

“I want to,” he said, before he kissed you again.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but once you gasped into the kiss as his hand rubbed your exposed side from your shirt lifting a little, he inched it further up until it landed on one of your breasts, and he felt like he could cum in his pants from the feeling once he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed, his hips rutting against you to give you both a little friction.

“Okay,” you said once you pushed him away a little to catch your breath. “I’m going to go crazy.”

“Why?” he asked, smirking at you as you sighed.

“We need to lose some clothes,” you mumbled, as you loosened the grip your legs had around his waist.

You reached over and grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, your bottom lip going in between your teeth as you checked out his toned stomach. After his shirt was over his head, he reached over and did the same to you. The second your chest was exposed to him, he pushed you back on the bed and immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth.

You moaned at the feeling as he licked, sucked, and swirled his tongue against you, your pussy throbbing as his mouth moved. As he went to the other side, you felt his hand on your thigh, slowly inching up it.

“You can touch me,” you said, your tone sounding like you were trying to convince him. He sighed against you before his hand was in between your legs, rubbing your pussy over the soft material of your leggings.

He pulled his hand away from you as he kissed down your body, the loss of contact making you want to whine, but you held it in. You giggled as you felt his curls tickling you, but once he made it to your leggings and hooked his fingers in them to pull them down, your breathing got a lot heavier.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he asked, as he lifted his head and his eyes connected with yours.

“More than okay,” you said, as he smiled and slid them down your legs.

When Ethan first met you, he never expected to experience anything like this with you. He might’ve let his mind wander there every now and then, because there were a few instances where you’d accidentally made him hard, but this was already better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

His eyes stayed on your face as he rubbed you over your panties, a groan slipping past his lips once he felt how wet they were. Your eyes were pleading with him, and even though his nerves were kicking in again from the lack of experience, he knew he didn’t have to be nervous to do this with you.

He moved those off your hips and down your legs before he tossed them on the floor, but just as he was leaning down to get settled between your legs, he stopped to look at you.

“If something doesn’t feel good, tell me. Okay?” he asked, as you quickly nodded your head. “Or if you need me to do something different, let me know.”

“I will,” you said, as he smiled at you.

Once his head was in between your legs, he began to slowly lick your clit with the tip of his tongue. One of your hands went to his hair, tangling in the soft brown locks as you let out the softest moans. He knew the sound meant that he wasn’t doing a horrible job, so he really started to get into it. He noticed when he used more pressure, your moans got louder, and you were struggling to keep your hips still.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you said, your breathing getting heavier as the grip on his hair got a little tighter. “You want to use your fingers, too?”

“How many should I use?” he asked after he pulled away to look at you.

“Start with one,” you said, as he nodded and looked down to see what he was doing.

You were so wet, his long middle finger sliding into you with ease. He slid it in and out of you as he looked back to your face to make sure it felt good.

“Okay…do this,” you said, demonstrating how he needed to move his finger, “There’s this spot that feels really,” you got out, but before you could finish getting your sentence out, he found it. “Fuck, right there. Keep hitting that.”

He did as you said before he leaned back down and gave your clit the attention it needed with his tongue, your moans getting whinier as your legs were tingling from the pleasure you were feeling. He took your clit in his mouth to roll over it with his tongue, and as you shakily praised him, telling him how good of a job he was doing, his cock was throbbing. You felt amazing around that single finger, the thoughts of how it would feel for him to be inside of you only making him even more hard.

“Use-fuck,” you got out, your thoughts getting cloudy as you tried to tell him what you needed. “Two fingers.”

He did as you asked, his ring finger sliding into your pussy. He kept hitting that spongy spot inside of you, and as his tongue moved against you, you felt that special feeling building deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your words making Ethan chuckle because there was no way in hell he was going to.

He softly sucked on your clit, and once he did, your whines got louder and closer together, your toes curling against the sheets as he worked you towards your orgasm.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, as your hips lifted off the bed, your eyebrows furrowing as you felt the white-hot feeling spread across your body.

Your pussy kept tightening around Ethan’s fingers, and he didn’t know when he was supposed to stop, so he didn’t. It only made your orgasm more intense as you tugged on his hair, the feeling making him moan against you.

Once your walls stopped fluttering and your body relaxed, he hesitantly pulled away and slid his fingers out, already missing all the sounds he was pulling from you moments before.

“Was that okay?” he asked, as you hazily looked at him.

“You’ve never done that before?” you asked, your disbelieving stare making him laugh as he shook his head.

“Never.”

“I think you’re lying because there’s no way you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had your first time doing that,” you said, a huge smile appearing on his face at your words.

“The best?” he asked, “I thought I was going to be awful at it.”

“You definitely aren’t,” you said, as you sat up to face him. “What do you want to do next?”

“You said you have condoms, right?” he asked, remembering the conversation he had with you a few weeks before.

“Yeah,” you said, as you slid off the side of the bed. You stood there for a second to get your bearings, because your legs still felt like Jell-O.

You walked over to your dresser and looked through the second drawer, searching for the box that you hid with your socks. You heard Ethan rustling around behind you, the sound of the metal on his belt clanking against the floor letting you know that he was taking his jeans off.

Just as you’d found the box, you felt his arms wrap around you. You smiled as you leaned back against him, enjoying his warmth. That’s when you felt how hard he was, and even though you hadn’t actually seen what he was hiding in the confines of his boxers, you could already tell it certainly wasn’t small.

“Fuck,” he whispered, as you ass brushed against him. “I can’t wait to do this with you.”

“Then let’s do it,” you said, the excitement in your voice making him smile as he pulled away from you. “You wanna be on top?”

“Uh…is that okay?” he asked, as you nodded and laid back on your bed and got comfortable. He slid his boxers down his legs, your eyes growing wide as you looked at him. You could tell he was a little self-conscious when his cheeks turned pink and his hand moved to cover himself.

“Why are you doing that?” you questioned, “You just saw my pussy up close.”

“You were staring at it,” he said, his voice a little shy as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, because it’s about to be inside of me,” you said, as you sat up and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards you. You grabbed a condom out of the box and handed it to him as he crawled up on the bed. “Just…be gentle.”

“Okay,” he said, as he opened it and slowly rolled it on.

The expression on his face said he was fully confident in what he was about to do, but his shaky hands said otherwise. You knew it probably wasn’t going to last long, and that was okay. You didn’t want him to feel bad for it, so you were trying to figure out the best way to bring it up.

“Hey,” you said, as his nervous eyes met yours. “I want you to enjoy this, okay? Don’t think you have to last forever. Don’t worry about making me cum again.”

“But…isn’t that bad if I don’t make you cum?” he asked, his nerves fading a little as you smiled at him.

“You just did. I already told you that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you said, as he lined up with your entrance. “Just take it slow at first.”

“Okay,” he said, as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

He was already dizzy at the feeling of your tight, wet pussy around his cock, and he felt relieved that he didn’t feel the pressure of making you cum again, because he was sure he wouldn’t be able to. He knew he’d be lucky if he didn’t bust within the first thirty seconds.

Some guys in bed were more vocal than others, and you were wondering what Ethan was going to be. Your question was soon answered when he started to move, and you heard him choking back the whimpers that were so close to pouring from his mouth.

“Don’t be quiet,” you said between your own sounds as he tried to find his rhythm, “I wanna hear you.”

He smiled at your words before his mouth fell open, finally letting you know exactly how good he was feeling. You wrapped your legs around his waist so he could go deeper, and the new angle, plus him hearing all your sounds and seeing all the faces you were making, had his orgasm quickly sneaking up on him.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered, his breathing shaky as his hips began to falter. “I’m gonna cum.”

You were watching him as that feeling washed over his body, his eyes fluttering as he whined your name. You thought it was the hottest thing ever to see him fall apart so quick, all because of how good your pussy felt for him.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna make this up to you,” he said, as he slid out and laid on the bed beside you as he caught his breath.

“Make it up to me?” you asked, as you moved so your head was resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around you as he held you close. “Don’t feel bad about not making me cum just now.”

“I wanted to, though,” he sighed, “Next time I will.”

“I think after you get used to sex, you’ll have no problem making me cum,” you said, as your fingers traced pattern on his chest. “Especially if you bend me over. Like, all fours, on the bed.”

“You want me to bend you over?” Ethan asked, as you sat up to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your bottom lip between your teeth at the idea.

Ethan felt the blood rushing straight to his cock again from you mentioning him having you in a position like that, and when you glanced down to see him already half-hard again, you giggled to yourself.

“You forgot to take the condom off,” you said, his eyes growing wide as the blush spread to his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he said, as he slid off the side of your bed. “I couldn’t think straight after that.”

He took the condom off and tossed in in the wastebasket in your room before he walked back over towards you and sat on the bed.

“Uh, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to…but do you want to do it again?” he asked, as he glanced down to see that he was fully hard again. You looked at where his attention was, before his eyes connected with yours.

“Right now?” you asked, your tone playful as he smiled.

“If you want to,” he said, “I wanna know what it feels like to do it in every position.”

“How many days do you have?” you teased, as his eyes grew wide.

“Jesus Christ, how many are there?” he asked, “You know what? Let’s just focus on the basic ones for now.”

You wasted no time to toss another condom to Ethan, because even though you said it was okay for you to not cum the first time, you were craving that release. Well, that, and you loved the feeling of him inside of you.

Your pussy was still soaked as you got into the position on the bed, as he stood on his knees behind you.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

Ethan started off slow, wanting to pace himself so he wouldn’t cum as quickly as he did before. He had his hand on your hips as he got more into it, pulling them back to meet his thrusts. The position made it easy for him to hit that spot every single time, and you were letting out the softest moans.

When he sped up a little, you relaxed the upper half of your body onto the bed as your ass was stuck up in the air for him, a low groan leaving his mouth at the sight. Even though he was moving your hips, you started to throw them back, your actions giving him the motivation to go faster.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, your hands clinging to your comforter as you felt that feeling start to build. Your skin was tingling, and you felt tiny little jolts of electricity running through your legs as he brought you closer to the edge.

Ethan knew he was close, but he was trying so hard to fight it off. He was thinking of some of the most depressing things to distract himself from the sounds you were making, and he knew as soon as he looked down at your back, he’d lose it.

You were trying to tell him how good everything felt, but that got a lot harder once it became difficult for you to even think of what you wanted to say. You were so close, right on the edge when you felt one of his hands that was on your hips move in between your legs, his fingers rubbing quick circles on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Cumming,” you whimpered against your bed. Your pussy kept clenching and releasing Ethan’s cock, a low moan flying out of his mouth at the feeling.

“Fuck, baby. Me too.”

As you and Ethan laid in your bed talking about all the dates he wanted to take you on, places he wanted to take you to see, he had a realization.

“Ya know, I never asked you to be my girlfriend,” he said, as his hands ran over your back.

“You don’t have to. I’m already yours,” you said, as you sat up to kiss him.

“I never thought this would happen,” he sighed, a smile on his face as he lazily closed his eyes.

“What?” you questioned, as he opened his eyes and sat up, too.

“All of this. I never thought we’d be anything more than friends. I never thought Sam would be okay with it. I never thought I’d lose my virginity,” he said, the last part making you laugh as you rolled your eyes.

“Maybe you didn’t lose it before because you were supposed to do it with me,” you teased, as he mimicked your eyeroll.

“I also never expected it to happen twice in one night,” he said, as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes getting darker the longer he stared at you.

“Don’t look at me like that unless you want to go for round three,” you said, before he pushed you back on the bed.

“Okay, but you’re on top this time.”

[stevie-petey]

pretty girl

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.” “Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Summary: steve has to get his daily kiss quota in somehow, right?

Rating: general, makeout session, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight neck kink if u arent into that, mild makeout session (so so so mild tho) - not proofread, i just kinda wrote so pls ignore typos lmao

Words: 1.1k

Before you swing in: hello ! i was in a bit of a lovey dovey mood, and while i adore writing come home, i simply couldnt bring myself to write more repressed feelings tonight. so, heres a quick lil boyfriend!steve blurb. it isnt at all correlated with come home (although if u squint ... maybe) its just me being so engrossed in my current crush and needing to be severely kissed. rip. anyways, enjoy !

-

Every night, Steve throws rocks outside your window. 

The rocks pang softly against the glass, one after another, as they bounce harmlessly on their endeavor to get your attention. 

Every night, you answer. 

“What ails you tonight, Harrington?” You’ve opened your window now, leaning your head out so that you can see the boy standing below. 

He winks at you. “The usual.”

“Hm,” you rest your elbows against the wooden panel encasing your window. “How many do you need this time?”

“Hard to say, but if I had to guess… A million, honestly.”

You laugh. “A million, huh?”

“Maybe even more.” Steve smiles up at you, admiring how the moonlight frames your pretty face, making it even softer than he ever thought possible. It takes his breath away for a second, knowing how the face staring down at him is the same face that stares up at him whenever morning comes. 

“Give me five minutes, lovely.”

Steve smiles at the nickname, letting it warm his face as well as his bones. “I’ll go warm up the car.”

You wave, blowing the boy a quick kiss, before closing your window to go over to your dresser. The top drawer has long come to contain your nighttime adventure outfits with Steve. A simple pair of sweatpants and his hoodie that you stole years ago but never gave back. 

He knows you have it still, but you know he secretly loves seeing you wear it. 

As soon as you’re ready, slippers and all, you quietly run down your stairs so you don’t disturb your parents and unlock the front door. The lock clicks harshly against the night’s quietness, but with one smooth turn you manage to undo the lock and open the door. 

Steve, true to his word, is waiting in his car with the heat blasting, just the way you like it. 

It’s winter, early January, and school hasn’t quite started back up yet. 

The second you approach the car, Steve gets out and walks to the passenger side so that he can open it before you even touch its handle. You scoff at the overdramatic mannerisms, but blush nonetheless. 

“I can open my own door, Steve.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but you’re beautiful and I love you.”

The words fall freely from his lips, and you intertwine your hand behind his neck and pull his lips flushed against yours. He hums into it, pulls you so that your chests are engulfed together and your legs stumble and enclose around his. It’s messy, your other hand clutches at Steve’s jacket and he relishes in the way your knuckles tighten around him. 

“One down, a million more to go.” Steve whispers against your lips. 

You laugh, throwing your head back and he watches the sight of it all. How your neck lengthens as you laugh, the way your hair cascades behind you and the way your eyes crinkle shut. You put on a whole show for him, and he can’t get enough of it. 

“You really think we can get through a million kisses tonight?” You ask, nudging your nose against the length of Steve’s jaw. 

He shivers. “Got a few ways I think we can manage that.”

You pull away now, though you keep your hand at the nape of his neck. “At least take a girl on a date first.”

“I’m trying, pretty girl.” He gestures toward the car, its engine humming softly. You roll your eyes, but when Steve finally opens the passenger door, you reluctantly let go of him and sit down. “Atta girl, Y/N.”

Before you can huff at him for the nickname, Steve gently closes the door and heads over to his own driver’s side. He opens the door, the warm air escaping a bit, and as soon as Steve is in the car he tugs at your hoodie (his hoodie) and once again you’re kissing. 

It’s longer this time, languid and lingering. He brings a hand up to your cheek and his thumb strokes the high point in a fluid back and forth motion. You lean deeper into him, your own hands coming up to his chest as if you could bring him any closer to you. 

Steve nips at your bottom lip and you let him in, you always let him in. 

You gasp as he sucks on the lip and you feel him smile at your reaction. With one hand still caressing your cheek, his other hand comes up to the base of your neck. It’s warm, he’s always so warm, and his calloused fingers find their usual place, splayed across both sides of your neck. His palm settles just above your collarbones and your breath hitches. 

“Steve…” You exhale his name, as if it were a prayer. 

He pulls away a little, his eyes a molten honey color in the moonlight. “Yes, pretty girl?”

You turn your head and press a kiss against the hand still on your cheek. “Three down, 999,999,997 to go.”

“Make that four,” Steve presses a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then to the tips of your eyelashes. “Now eight.”

You giggle as he presses another kiss to your temple and then your ear. He’s everywhere, now, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he can find. “And here, and here, and here…”

Steve goes down to your neck now, his nose trailing down the bare skin, making you shiver, and his kisses are so soft. Despite his teasing and the hold he still has on your neck, his lips leave a trail so soft and sanguine against your skin that they burn like whiskey. 

He reaches for your hand now, bringing the length of your arm up to his face, and just before he presses even more kisses against you, you laugh and pull your arm back. Steve starts to whine, unhappy with his kisses being interrupted, but you comb your fingers through his hair. 

“Seems unfair to make you do all the work, lovely.”

Steve’s lips are red and swollen from earlier, they almost distract you from his response. “Shush and let me kiss you.”

He tries to duck his head back down to your neck for more, but you stop him. “Nuh-uh. My turn.”

Before Steve can argue some more, you tug at his jacket, and because you’ve caught him off guard, he falls so far forward that his neck is open for the taking. You press your own kisses against it, connecting the moles that litter his skin with a kiss, and Steve exhales shakily as you do so. 

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.”

“Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Steve’s hand tightens around your neck as the other flies up to your head, pressing you further into his neck as you suck on a spot that he particularly likes. “Yeah… Fuck, okay. Shutting up now.”

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[tokkishouse]

(Nsfw) Time of the Year

Characters: Tighnari x fem!Reader

Warnings: (n)sfw -- minors dni!!!, Tighnari is insatiable, he's a fennec fox during mating season-- do the math lol (breeding, knotting, a little manhandling), little dacryphillia, hair pulling, reader is implied to be a fellow forest watcher and has a vision, bit of a long set up (pwp?), NOT PROOF READ, i kinda...blacked out when i wrote this LMAO

WC: ~3.4k words

There were many things about Tighnari that intrigued you. How a hybrid like him came around was the major one-- you had only seen one other hybrid like him before and that was General Gorou all the way in Inazuma.

His mannerisms also caught your eye-- the constant grooming of his tail and the nesting habits where he'd hoard all the warm blankets in his abode. While endearing, it never failed to earn your attention and curious stares.

What you really wanted to understand was where exactly your fearless leader went during the entire month of January and February. During all the years you were under his instruction as a forest watcher, without fail, Tighnari would be on a leave of absence from January 1st until the end of February. March 1st would roll around and there he was, picking up his responsibilities as if he wasn't gone for two months.

When you inquired about it to the others, they'd brush it off and dance around the subject. Some would scold you for being too curious while others would bluntly say it wasn't your business. And maybe it wasn't-- if it was crucial for everyone to know, Tighnari would've made sure everyone knew.

Too bad you were always determined to find the answer to your deepest questions.

After a long day of exploring Avidya Forest and clearing out any withering zones, you longed to take a nice relaxing bath and sink into your bed as you escape to dreamland. Tasks had gotten a tad harder recently with Tighnari gone, but everyone managed to make do, especially thanks to you and Collei assisting with your visions.

"That Tighnari...I wonder how he's doing," you mumble under your breath as you make your way back to your hut. You just finished taking a bath as evident from the dull drip drip of the water falling from your hair. You stop at the intersection between everyone's huts and you look down the path to Tighnari's.

"I didn't see him leave the forest. Maybe he's still here?" The desire to check if your leader creeps into your brain. You recall everyone's hesitance to explain Tighnari's absence and without thinking, your legs carry you down the path to his home.

His closed door greets you, and there's a sign hanging from the hook. It reads, 'Do not Disturb-- Please Come Back March 1'. You click your tongue in frustration. Why on earth would you request an absence and still stay here in the forest?

You raise your fist to knock on the door, the desire to ignore all warnings stronger than ever. It hovers right in front of the door, and no matter how much you seem to want to knock on the door, you can't bring yourself to do so. You let out a defeated sigh, letting your hand drop to your side.

"Let's not be an ass. I'm sure Tighnari has his reasons. We can always ask him later." Despite your aching curiosity, you decide to respect Tighnari's privacy, and you turn on your heel to leave. Before you can leave though, a loud groan catches your attention. It sounds pained, and you whip your head back around towards the door.

"Tighnari...? Are you okay?" you call out to him, concern lacing your voice. Silence fills the air, and you almost move away, convinced you misheard the sound in the first place. Another groan sounds from behind the door, and it sounds more strangled this time. Instincts kick in, and you immediately grab the doorknob, twisting it as you walk in.

You take time to let your eyes refocus on the sudden burst of light in your eyes, nearly blinded by it. When your vision clears, your jaw drops at the sight in front of you.

Tighnari is propped up against his couch, limbs sprawled out as if they're made of jello. His face is flushed and his bangs cling to his head from the sweat that's dripping down his face. His usually bright and focused eyes have taken on a glazed look, and his pupils have contracted, giving him a more animalistic look. What really catches your eyes are his clothes, or rather-- his lack of clothes.

The hybrid has stripped down bare in the middle of the room, his clothes strewn around in a haphazard way. You're unable to fully react to the sight of him gingerly palming his erect cock. It stands up straight, blushing a bright red at the tip. Precum leaks from the head, smearing around the shaft from his languid motions. He lazily turns his gaze to you, a small glimmer of recognition shining in his eyes.

"Y/n...what are you doing here?" he manages to breathe out. He doesn't stop his hand, letting out a quiet whimper when he presses down hard on his sensitive length. You can feel your brain short-circuit as you stumble over your words, trying to form an excuse for the invasion of privacy.

"I-I heard you groan and I thought you were in pain, so I thought I'd come in," you explain, and you can't help the fact that your gaze lowers, once again entranced by the sight of Tighnari touching himself. You weren't blind-- Tighnari was a handsome man. His personality was welcoming, and his features were easy on the eyes. You weren't the only person to have felt this way, and the sight of such an attractive man pleasuring himself, almost pathetically, sends a tingling sensation down to your core, and you feel yourself grow damp.

Tighnari catches on easily, the scent of your blooming arousal sends his mouth watering. He can't help his more animalistic urges-- no matter how much he tried. You see, he had also found you attractive, and the first year that he had a rut with you as a ranger, he nearly tore off the head of one of the male rangers who flirted with you. Unaware of your feelings for him, he opted to instead request a leave of absence. Two months out of the year he'd be gone, and then he'd come back perfectly fine, and you would be unaware that you were the reason for his choice of isolation.

However, smelling your arousal and recognizing the signs of want, of desire as your gaze remains steady on his weeping dick, he knew that the feelings were mutual. A fire was lit in his stomach, and any feebleness he felt from the onslaught of hormones washed away as he adjusts himself to sit up properly. His hand remains on his shaft, switching to a pumping motion.

"Are you getting off to seeing your leader a lewd mess? I didn't take you for that type of person," he teases, and he grits his teeth, a shock of pleasure shooting up his spine with the squeeze of his hand. You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you finally manage to peel your gaze away from the angry dick, choosing to find the ceiling more interesting.

"I-I'm sorry! I'll leave right away. Forget you saw anything. I'll-"

"Forget I saw anything?" Tighnari laughs, and your legs feel like lead. His laugh is incredulous-- and you don't blame him. How does one just forget the sight of their subordinate walking in on them jacking off?

"The fact that you didn't run out of here leads me to believe that you find me attractive and that the sight of me pathetically trying to get myself off turns you on. Am I wrong?" He's not, by any means, and the growing wetness between your legs is further proof of that.

"Why don't we help each other out?" He suggests, watching you through his long lashes.

The air is thick with sexual tension as you both stare at each other. Despite his exposed position, Tighnari holds all the power. He's giving you an out, and you can tell he's genuine. You could just run out of his home, and pretend the situation never happened. But the yearning inside you is too high. You've desired a chance like this ever since you joined the Forest Rangers. And of course, you were curious.

What was it like to fuck a hybrid?

✦✧✦✧

Exhausting. That was your answer. The moment you gave Tighnari his approval, he pounced on you. His claws made quick work of your clothes as he flung them around the room. You barely had time to react before his mouth latched onto one of your breasts, his hot tongue painting shapes on your skin. You keen at his touch, whines and moans tumbling out your lips as he leaves love bites all over your chest.

Alternating between the two, his mouth suckles on your nipples, painting drool and spit coating your breasts. When Tighnari pulls away, they feel sore and you hiss as the air feels cool in contrast to the warm saliva and the heat that rushes to the surface of your skin.

He wastes no time as he pulls you into the desired position, his animalistic strength making it easy to get you on your hands and knees. Clawing at your ass, he bites his tongue and hisses as he catches sight of the slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I won't have to waste time prepping you. Good, because I don't want to wait any longer." Your cunt clenches around nothing, and you whine in anticipation. In an attempt to hurry him, you wiggle your hips to entice him. All that earns you is a harsh slap to your ass, and you yelp in surprise. The fox kneads the skin soothingly, as if in apology before lining his dick with your entrance.

The tip kisses your folds, splitting them apart as some of your essence coats the head. He nearly cums right there, his nerves lighting up like fireworks at the warm feeling of your slick coating his cock. He manages to restrain himself, just enough to give more instructions.

"The safe word is 'bloom'. I intend to have you as I please and I won't stop until I'm satisfied. Even if that means you can't hold yourself up." You clench again, this time catching his tip and he nearly crumbles. "If you need me to stop, you will have to say it. I will not stop unless you say 'bloom.' Do you understand?" he manages to finish.

Why on earth you would ever stop him from ravaging you is beyond you, but you appreciate the communication. You nod and wiggle your hips again, taking on a desperate tone to your voice.

"Hurry up and give me a reason to use that safe word, 'Nari."

Like lighting a match, his restraint burns away and his grip on you becomes bruising. In one smooth push, he fully sheathes himself inside you, hissing at how tight and warm you feel around his cock. The sudden intrusion has you trembling and you almost fall over. Your cunt is quick to grow wetter in an attempt to provide more lube. The stretch is mind-numbing, and you whine pathetically as he brings you to the hilt. You feel something slightly bulbous push against your folds, and your mind scrambles to try to make sense of it.

You don't have time to focus on the sensation, and moans slip between your lips as Tighnari slowly pulls his cock out, only leaving just the tip in. The emptiness you feel is hallowing, and you realized you've already become addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you. He doesn't leave you dissatisfied for long, thrusting back into you shortly after.

He picks up a steady rhythm, pulling you back against him with each thrust. You sob with each thrust, digging your nails into your palms. Every time he pulls out, he catches sight of his cock coated in your juices from your sopping pussy. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, and he bites back a growl that reverberates in his chest. After years of only being able to get off with his own hand, he'll never go back. Hearing your squeals and watching the way that your essence drips out around his length with each thrust was intoxicating, and he can't get enough.

His thrusts get more violent, his clawed hands digging more into your hips, you find yourself struggling to keep yourself propped up on your hands. Heavy balls slap against your clit, adding extra stimulation that makes your cunt squeeze around Tighnari's cock deliciously. He snarls in your ears with each squeeze, your reactions spurring him on to continue his assault on your dripping heat.

"T-Tighnari...p-please, slow down..c-can't," you plead, slightly turning your head to gaze at him with bleary eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, heat radiating off of your body, and drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth as you struggle to meet his gaze. You flinch at his unwavering stare, and let out a squeal when he reaches one of his hands up to place it on your back between your shoulders.

"Are you going to say the safe word?" he questions, slowing down his thrusts. His gaze remains unchanged but you can hear concern sewn into his words. He's offering you another out. As much as it hurts, you didn't want to slow down anytime soon. You've wanted him for as long as you've worked with him and there was no way you were going to stop halfway. You shake your head, clamping your mouth shut. That's all the permission he needs before he gives a forceful shove and pushes you down onto the floor, forcing your body into a deep arch and your head to the floor as you let out a pornographic moan.

"If you can't hold yourself up, just lie there and take it. I won't have my fill for a while," he hisses out, the edge in his voice coming back. He continues his previously brutal pace,

The new angle has you feeling him so much more, and you swear he's able to fuck into you deeper. His name rolls off your tongue in chants as you press yourself against the floor, submitting to the position you've been forced into. A new burn aches through your body from the harsh angle but the way that Tighnari's cock bullies itself into your cunt brings pleasure crashing down in its wake.

The feeling of a coil tightening in your stomach grows, and as it grows tighter and tighter, your vision blurs as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your moans dry into pathetic whimpers, stifled by the rubbing of your face against the hardwood floor. The friction stings, causing tears to well up in your eyes, much to Tighnari's delight.

" 's too much, hm? Are you crying because you can't take it? I told you I wouldn't be nice," he mocks, slowing down his pace to a more intentional one, sharp thrusts rutting against that spongy spot in your walls. You wail at the new pace, missing the vigor behind Tighnari's thrust but craving the grinding of his dick against that sensitive spot.

" 'm gonna cum...'nari, I'll cum!" you whine, gathering all the strength you can to try and push your body up, hoping to be able to meet his thrusts. Sharp pain rings through your head as Tighnari grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back, causing you to yelp. Your back is pressed against his chest, and he quickly adjusts his hand so his arm wraps around your torso to hold you upright.

Your breathing picks up as gravity forces you to drop down on his cock at a more direct angle, and more pathetic sobs slip off your tongue. He bucks his hips up, forcing you to bounce in his lap. His knot, now rising and more shapely kisses your folds, parting them more and more with each thrust. The wet slaps of skin against skin, the splats of your fluids dripping onto the floor-- you've become hyperaware of the erotic scene unfolding around you. Something damp and fuzzy wraps around your leg and presses against your clit, and that coil inside starts to tighten more. You manage to spare a glance and whine when you realize that Tighnari's tail has started rubbing against your sensitive nub.

"Go on, cum. Cum all over me," he commands, and your body listens without hesitation. Loud, purely pornographic wails fill the room as you gush all over Tighnari's cock. He groans into the crook of your neck, melting at the feeling of your walls spasming around him. He almost gets swept up by the sensation, nearly cumming inside you. But he instead bites down on your unblemished skin in an attempt to ground you, and you arch your back from the pain of his canines digging into you.

Your vision dots with white, and you feel you curl your toes in pure euphoria. The crashing waves of your orgasm keep rolling, powered by the persistent stroking of your captain's tail stroking your clit. In a brief moment of clarity, that fact rings bells in your head: your captain. Your superior. You just came on your superior's dick. There was no coming back from this. Your relationship with Tighnari has changed, for better or for worse. A twinge of worry shoots down your spine, culling your orgasm almost instantly. But you don't have time to dwell on your fears-- a sharp bite to your jaw brings you back to reality.

"Don't think I'll let you go just yet. We still have plenty of the rest of the month to go," Tighnari scolds under his breath, and you squeal as you come back to the fact that you're still bouncing on his cock, taking all of it, inch by inch, with little resistance. Your cheeks darken when you glance down at the growing puddle of milky fluids underneath the two of you.

You can feel the head of his dick swell, and you realize he's about to cum. Tighnari's tightening grip and more erratic groans are all you need for confirmation. Crescent moons form on your hips as his claws dig in drawing a little blood. You can barely focus on the increasing pace, gasping every time he bottoms out fully inside you. His knot pops in and out, the only shred of resistance despite the copious amounts of essence dripping everywhere.

The faint, reasonable part of your mind is screaming at you to ask him to pull out, to cum on any part of your body that wasn't your pussy. The more prominent, more needy, and desperate part was far louder-- you craved to feel his cum inside you. You don't know if a hybrid can get a regular human pregnant, and a part of you wants to find out. A risk that results in Tighnari's warm cum filling you up? You clench at the thought and he growls in appreciation.

His thrusts get sloppier, more intent on slamming your hips down against his in an attempt to catch his knot. His efforts are initially fruitless, his knot just barely slipping out. With one rather harsh thrust though, he manages to force it in with a wet pop, and you keen as you both cum at the same time. The tightness of your cunt aids in keeping his knot plugged inside you as he cums.

It's warm and thick and flows inside you like a turret. Tighnari continues to bite and tug at your neck, lapping up any blood that spills when he breaks the skin. Your mind goes blank, and you feel like you're floating on clouds. His cum leaves you feeling warm and full, and you feel limp as you rest against him.

A few moments of stillness pass, and as you feel your strength return, you try to shift to get off. Tighnari is quick to grab your waist and keep you still, letting out a warning growl.

"Don't. Move. Not done yet." A shiver runs down your spine and you manage to voice out your confusion.

"Done..? But you came..and," you trail off, too embarrassed to discuss the literal knot inside you. He chuckles at this, and slides a hand down to palm your overstimulated bud, causing you to whimper in protest.

"I told you-- we have the rest of the month. I'm not finished with you yet." He lowers his voice to barely above a whisper, his next sentence making your stomach flip.

"By the time I'm through, I'll make sure you have a kit or two inside you."

Happy Valentine's Day and thank you for 750+ followers!

@scarasweetheart For u ❤️

Requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open~!

[pantherxrogers]

lee chan x fem!reader (SMUT 18+)

a/n: this is not proofread or formatted at all lmao. i def wrote this in a hurry and uploaded it. but, i had fun! hope you guys enjoy.

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

okay, somehow this is better than date night.

with each thrust of dino's hips, the ribbed texture of your yoga mat rubs against your back. you unintentionally squeeze around his cock, eliciting a deep groan from him.

"shit, babe," he huffs, glancing down to watch the way your pussy swallows him whole. the sight motivates him. he slows down, grinding into you and making your eyes roll back. he smirks to himself, proud of the effect his still has on you after many years of marriage.

"d-dino, please don't stop."

he coos at your pleading, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hairline. he’s panting above you, arms straining from the way he holds his body above you. he smirks when he sees you shamelessly ogle his biceps.

"you know i'm not stopping, honey. how can i? look so pretty when you're taking my cock," he hums, dipping his head down to press a sloppy kiss to your neck.

your clit throbs with his actions, needing more stimulation. you sloppily reach down, wanting to draw tight circles against the sensitive nub. a firm grip around your wrists stops you in your tracks.

"ah, ah, ah," dino chides, pinning your wrists above your head. "should've told me you needed my fingers, baby." he makes a show of bringing his fingers to his lips, lewdly wetting them before meeting your clit.

"ooo, fuck fuck," you squeal, overwhelmed by pleasure. you fumble with your sports bra, freeing your breasts. if you had the ability to think, shame would likely wash over you. but, the way dino pounds into you doesn't leave any room for such useless emotions.

"fuck, you're so sexy," he grunts, dropping his head to suck on your nipple. "should've known what would've happened when you bent over like this in this outfit baby." said outfit is currently askew, leggings and thong haphazardly pulled down by dino just minutes ago.

"i-i haven't stretched in a while," you whine, feigning innocence. dino hit the nail on the head when he brought up your subtle teasing. but, that's what makes this fun for you both.

"okay, baby. i hear you," he coos, sitting back on his heels. he finally lets go of your hands, only to grab your ankles and throw them over his shoulders.

the moan you let out is pornographic. the new angle allows dino to push his cock even deeper inside you, grazing against your g spot.

"i'm-i'm, gonna come," you moan, glancing up to see dino. he looks etheral above you. sweat covers his body, illuminating his honey skin. the liquid acts as an oil over his abs. you can see his muscles strain with each thrust, giving you his all.

"like what you see baby?" that cocky smirk and his words are enough to send you over the edge, clenching down on his cock uncontrollably.

the way you whimper and squeal makes dino's balls tighten. he keeps fucking you, pleasure overwhelming his senses. all it takes is for you to arch your back, full breasts on display and he's spilling into you. he slows his thrusts, prolonging both of your orgasms. before long, you're both spent, panting heavily on the yoga mat.

"technically, i still got a workout in," you joke, finally regaining awareness of your limbs.

dino answers you with a chuckle, easing his body off of your own. "you definitely did, baby."