#and yeah sure his long hair and stubble when he was on the run is extremely hot

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ofc him and ash don't meet until their mid-late 30s, but i do like how we got to see k.enzo back in medical school!

i like learning more about him and his past before his life uh. fell apart

[cameronsprincess]

Formal request for blodemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccent!rafe x reader baby

blondemulletmustacheprettyteethandeyessexysouthernaccentrafe has me on my kneeeees. we’re imagining a scenario here that @oceandriveab put in my mind! seduce. the. tree. man.

CW: smut! 18+ only! blue collar!rafe, slutty!reader, protected sex (shocker!!), fingering, nipple play, sex with a stranger (don’t do that fr).

rafe masterlist | requests | taglist form

you’re sitting on your front porch, enjoying the weather outside when your phone loudly ringing from inside catches your attention.

sighing, you stand from the swing and make your way inside to see who’s calling. 

828-756-2798… you look over the number, not sure who it is, but you are expecting some workers to come by and deal with some trees in your yard, so you quickly answer.

“hello?”

“hi, is this y/n y/l/n?”

your body heats up at the sound of the deep, raspy southern accent at the other end of the line. you quickly shake the thoughts in your head and reply.

“yeah this is she, who’s this?”

you hear rustling from the other end before the man speaks again.

“my name’s rafe. rafe cameron. i’m calling about the trees you need cut down. i’m just letting you know i’ll be there in about an hour, my last job has run a little longer than expected.”

rafe cameron sounds sexy. you quickly squash the inappropriate thoughts about the man once more, clearing your throat as your thighs rub together.

“oh, yes, i forgot you’d be coming today,” not a total lie. “that’s perfectly fine, i’ll be home all day, just whenever you can get here is fine! thank you!”

“not a problem, darlin’, see you in an hour.”

he hangs up before you can say anything else. your mind begins reeling with inappropriate thoughts of the man who’d just called you. have you ever met him? is he as sexy as he sounds? fuck. you have serious problems, and you definitely need to get laid. and no, not by the man who’s coming to cut down some fucking trees for christ’s sake.

you shake your head, deciding you need to go inside and take a long, cold shower. hopefully it’ll help clear the thoughts running rampant through your mind.

—

an hour later, you’re sitting at the bar in your kitchen, glass of wine in hand— what? it’s five somewhere, right?— and scrolling through your phone when a knock sounds at your front door.

taking a quick sip of the wine, you set it on the counter and stand from your high top chair. you slowly approach the front door, running sweaty hands down the front of your tiny tank top before turning the knob and opening it. jesus fucking christ. you’re greeted by the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. tall— probably 6’2, 6’3 give or take— straight nose, sharp jaw with a slight stubble to it, a perfectly groomed mustache that looks like it’d feel amazing between your legs, messy dirty blond mullet that’s settled beneath a hat, and gorgeous fucking bright blue eyes. lets not even get started on his fucking arms, fuck.

“uh.. miss?”

the deep sound of his voice startles you, and you look up to meet those damn blue eyes. he has a slight hint of concern on his face, but it quickly fades as he smiles back at you. fuck. he’s the definition of perfection.

“oh sorry, long day,” you lie, you haven’t done shit all day. “um, so… do you know which trees need to be taken down or uh.. do i need to show you?”

he smiles that perfect fucking smile, letting out a small laugh as his head falls forward. “i remember which ones, miss. it’ll probably take me about two hours, give or take, then i’ll be out of your hair.”

you smile, but you’re internally wishing you could find an excuse to keep him around longer. you open your mouth a few times, trying and failing to speak. finally, you settle with, “sounds good, just let me know when you’re finished.”

he nods once and turns, making his way off your porch and getting to work.

—

you couldn’t help yourself. you’d shut the door and went back to your kitchen, trying to shove the deep, southern accent out of your mind, trying to forget that perfect fucking smile and those pretty blue eyes. but you couldn’t. so that’s how you ended up on your front porch, wine glass in hand as you zoned out on rafe, watching him work in your yard.

god if he didn’t look fucking edible. the way his arms flexed with each pull of the rope tied to the branches, the way his back muscles strained against the tight fabric of his baby blue work shirt, his denim jeans hugging his waist and ass perfectly… you couldn’t help but picture scenarios of him fucking you. bent over your front porch railing, in your bedroom, bathroom, in his work truck, anywhere. your mind wandered, imagining the most filthy fucking—

“all done, darlin’.”

fuck. when did he finish? how long has he been standing there?

your eyes focus on his face, and your entire body lights on fire when you catch those damn blue eyes scanning the length of your body. you didn’t leave much to the imagination in your tight tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

you stand, moving to reach a hand out for him to shake and go on his way, but the second his hand touches yours, tingles run up the length of your arm, traveling all the way to your already soaking wet and aching pussy. rafe notices your tense demeanor, and he smiles, tightening his hand on yours.

“you alright, darlin? you look a little… flushed.”

“it’s uh..” you pause, clearing your throat, “it’s the, the heat.. yeah. so.. all good?”

“all good” he drawls, giving you that panty dropping smile again.

you’re about to pull your hand away, but he tightens his hold, pulling your closer to him. you let out what can only be described as a squeak, a fucking squeak, what are you? a prepubescent girl?

“i saw the way you were eyein’ me, sweetheart.”

your face heats up, probably turning a bright shade of fucking red. way to be discreet. you definitely zoned out on him. fuck.

“i uh… i’m sorry.”

he chuckles. “no need to apologize, sweetheart. i’d be lyin’ if i said i didn’t have my eyes on you too.. you’re.. well you’re gorgeous.”

a moan slips from your lips at his compliment and you swear you wish the ground could swallow you whole. rafe’s eyes darken, flitting down to stare at your lips for a beat before they find yours again. you contemplate your next move very carefully.

stepping toward him, you place your free hand against his hard chest, digging your fingers into his shirt. his darkened over eyes stare down at you intently, flicking back and forth between your own eyes and your lips. you lift yourself up on your tiptoes, your lips so close to his you can feel each exhale he makes.

“do you wanna fuck me as badly as i wanna fuck you?”

you’re teasing him at best, but the guttural groan he releases has you flinching back. you gasp loudly when his lips crash against yours, swallowing every small whimper, gasp and moan you make.

he releases your hand, letting it flop down by your side. his large hands grip at your hips harshly, making their way to your ass and squeezing, hard. you whimper against his lips again and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. he tastes like mint and fucking addiction. his hands squeeze at your ass again while his lips continue to devour you. he breaks the kiss only for a second, asking, “you wanna be fucked here, or inside, darlin’?”

you moan at the way his voice sounds, the question sending sparks of pleasure straight to your aching core. you lift your eyes to meet his intense blue ones, “h-here?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than a statement.

he chuckles, his lips pecking yours once more before he pushes you back. your brow furrows, a frown working its way onto your lips, but it’s quickly squashed when you watch him begin fumbling with his belt. he swiftly pulls it from the loops of his jeans, tossing it to the ground, the sound of the metal buckle clanking against your wooden porch has you flinching. are you really about to fuck the goddamn tree guy? fuck yes. he’s sexy, and it’s been months since you’ve fucked anyone.

you watch intently as he pops the button on his denim jeans, sliding the zipper down. he shoves the rough material down his legs, letting them pool around his boots. your eyes slowly trail down from his face to his erect cock that’s straining against his boxers. holy fuck. his dick is fucking huge from what you can see.

he smirks at you, his large hands gripping your shoulders and making you jump, ripping your eyes off his monster of a cock. “strip f’me darlin’” he drawls.

you quickly obey, pulling your tank top up and over your head, exposing your bare chest to him. he sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers moving to pinch at your hard nipples. he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, pinching and pulling at them before cupping and massaging your breasts.

“you got pretty tits, darlin’. real pretty.”

you blush, biting at your bottom lip as he continues to massage your tits, his fingers moving to stimulate your nipples every so often. he drops his hands to your hips, fingers pushing into the sides of your cotton shorts. he slowly pushes them down your legs, his dark blue eyes never leaving yours.

once he has them pushed down to your ankles, you lift your feet and step out of them, kicking them across your porch. thank god you bought a house in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn’t be so easy with nosy neighbors around.

you stand before him in nothing but a black lace thong, and your body heats up under rafe’s intense gaze. his eyes trail the length of your body over and over again, as if he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind. he pulls his jeans back up his legs a bit, and you furrow your brow, confused. he pulls his wallet from the back left pocket, opening it and pulling out a condom. typical male. at least he’s prepared.

his jeans drop back to the ground and he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. pulling it free from the packet, he shoves his boxers down his thighs, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see his long, thick, veiny cock. fuck. me. he’s fucking huge. you watch in awe as he slides the lubricated condom down his length, stepping toward you in slow strides.

he grips your hips, spinning your body around and pushing your front into the porches railing. your fingers tightly grip at it as you suck in breath after breath. this is stupid, right? you don’t even know him. but he is sexy… so it’s fine. right? you’ll never see him again. it’s fine, you’re fi-

all your thoughts come to a screeching halt when you feel the head of his cock pushing inside you. he hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your sides harder. “fuck, darlin’… you’re so tight.”

he slowly pushes himself inside you, inch by inch until he’s completely buried inside you. his face falls, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on your shoulder, teeth biting into your delicate skin. he stays completely still, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“p-please?” you whimper, turning your hips in a circular motion and feeling his cock twitch inside you just the slightest.

“please what, sweetheart? use your words.” he rasps.

“please.. please fuck me?” you say, but it comes out more as a question than anything.

his deep laughter fills the air, and your face heats up. you’re actually begging a man you just met to fuck you, pathetic? maybe. but you’re too horny to care.

he pulls his face from your neck, one hand wrapping in your hair and pulling while the other rests on your hip. “‘m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart.” is all he says before he slowly pulls out, slamming himself back in and pulling a low whine from you.

rafe’s hips set a quick pace, his thick cock brutally pounding into your weeping cunt. you wrap your fingers around the railing of your porch for stability, gripping at the wood so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“oh, g-god… rafe!” you moan breathlessly.

his hand on your hip tightens, his blunt nails biting into the soft flesh of your skin. he slows his thrusts, slowly pulling his cock from inside you, letting you feel every thick inch and every vein as he does. he slowly pushes himself back inside, your warm, tight walls squeezing at him.

“pussy’s squeezin’ me, baby. she’s so fuckin’ needy, yeah? such a dirty little whore f’me, lettin’ me fuck you on your front porch ‘n we only just met today.”

each word is punctuated with a painfully slow thrust of his hips, the swollen head of his cock abusing that spongey sweet spot deep inside your pussy.

your toes curl, fingers tightening around your porch railing so hard you’re scared you might bruise your fingers.

“rafe… please?” you beg, feeling that band inside your belly tightening, threatening to snap.

he lowers his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat mixed. his lips kiss, lick and nip at your sweat slick skin, goosebumps spreading across your body. you’re so close..

“please what, darlin’? use your words f’me.”

“please… can i cum? please?”

a low growl is pulled from deep inside his chest, his hand wraps around your throat, pulling your face back so his lips can capture yours in a searing kiss.

“go on, cum f’me, make a mess on my cock, baby.” he mumbles against your lips.

the band snaps, your lips matching his pace. your body shakes underneath his as he continues to fuck himself inside you, never letting up as your euphoric high takes over your entire body.

“oh god… oh god, rafe! fuck!”

his thrusts begin to grow sloppy, low, raspy grunts falling from his lips before he buries his face in your neck once more. his teeth sink into your skin as he groans. “fuck, ‘m.. fuck ‘m coming.”

his cock twitches inside you, pushing himself deep inside one final time before he cums inside the condom.

his body twitches, his chest heaving as he slowly pulls himself from inside you. pulling off the condom, he disposes of it in the trash bin you have on your porch before slowly pulling his boxers and jeans back up his legs. he helps you get redressed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiling.

“you’re fuckin’ amazing. think i could call you sometime and we do this again?”

i had not a clue how to end this, i’m so sorry this is probably shitty but i’ve worked on it off n on for what… 2 months i think? maybe just a month😭😂 love you kel, hope it’s okay babe!😭

rafe taglist: @oceandriveab @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafesthroatbaby @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @maybankslover @bellbottombaby @rafesgiirl @urbimom @antagonize-me-motherfucker @araminsstuff075 @araminsstufff @chaneydoll @bi-zowee @princesssuki21 @zrm004 @ijustwanttoreadlols @baennied @hyperfixationgirl @justheretoreadthestories @chiaraanatra @chimindity @juniebugg @unsaidjaelinrose @momoewn @spid6y @wearemadeofstardust0 @vallovesyou @daydreamrafe @mattyskies @fallrafwe @cherriespopsicle @rafeglazer @nattywattyy @st6rrrs

[celabi]

hm.. dad scummy mouche…hm I’m going to get him pregnant hm.

i feel like, no matter how many years have passed since scaramouche has evolved into a proper man and has some what [not really] outgrew his scummy teenage and early adult years, he still gets a little embarrassed around you. like, no matter how long you’ve been married, or how many times you’ve seen him nude, he can’t help but look away shyly when he catches you staring, or sigh shakily when you compliment him. so, he’s glad that he’s got his little helper to help him express his love to you on the days where he’s feeling just a little embarrassed.

thirty years old. no longer this scrawny teen with pimples and greasy hair, no. he has stubble on his chin, tattoos on his arms, piercings in his ears…and yet he gets nervous around his wife, and bribes his daughter with ice cream, to compliment her for him.

scaramouche hums when he feels a little tug on his pants, and when he turns his head down to see what it is now; he meets the eyes of his little girl, who stares back up at her dad with gleaming cheekiness. he smiles, and wipes the dish soap off his hand and on the fabric of his shirt before bending down and scooping her up into his arms. she beams happily, reaching up to tug on his purple hair. “daddy! mama told me to say to you… ‘thank you’ and that she thinks you’re very um, gor—jus? as well!” her little grubby hands tug on his locks with more force then she probably realises, and he can slowly start to feel a headache coming along from how hard she’s pulling. “she’s right! you are gor—jus daddy!” she swings her feet, twisting and turning the strands of his hair between her little fingers.

“hm, not as gorgeous as mommy, though…” he sighs wistfully, staring blankly at the wall. the little girl in his grasp playfully gags at the look in her fathers eyes. “dad! that’s so gross! don’t you think you love mommy a bit too much…?” her chubby fingers moves to poke at his cheek, which drags him back down to earth.

he shakes his head in slight, “no, mommy likes it.”

“are you sure? mommy probably thinks you’re weird with how much you look at her…”

he frowns, “yeah, okay… that’s enough of that.” and bends down to place her back to the floor, making her huff and puff in disbelief. he sighs, rubbing his temples: “how about instead of poking fun at daddy… you go and tell mommy that I think she looks pretty, and that i’ll make dinner for us tonight.” he shoulders sag, making him chuckle as he lightly pats her head. “aw again? your cooking blows, and mommy is gonna get sick of you if you tell her that all the time…”

he tuts, and shakes his head. “yeah right… she had all of her life to get rid of me, i’m not going anywhere, anytime soon… so suck it.” he teases lightly, flicking her forehead, which has her scowling.

“ugh, dad you stink so much!” she stomps her little feet as she runs off. “this is why mommy always stops to say hi to mr.capitano at school!”

“huh?! she does what now?!”

scaramouche likes to think he’s a good influence on his daughter, but his wife digresses.

scaramouche watches as his daughter pulls you by the hand and towards the front door, where she carelessly flops on her behind and raises her legs up into the air, shoes dangling off her feet. “please tie my shoes mama!”

he sighs, leaning his cheek in his palm. a cozy little home with both of his favourite girls… life is good, he thinks, and mentally pats his past self on the back for having such amazing rizz… [stealing your underwear and chewing your gum had really paid off]. the sounds of tiny feet padding along the floor pulls him out of his thoughts, makinghim look down, where his little girl is beaming back up at him with her arms stretched, waiting for her hug. heof course does, and bends down to pick her up, where her head flops onto his shoulder. “bye papa, see you after school!” so energetic, so early in the morning… scaramouche doesn’t know how she does it. either way, he huffs, and moves his hand up to smooth down her hair, ridding the knots and strays caused by her excitement.

“have a good day, baby… and remember what I told you? if any of those nasty boy teachers smile at mommy when she drops you off… tell them that your daddy kills people.”

“got it, dad!”

[buck-star]

I only want you | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> During the party he confesses his feelings for you, he kisses you but the next day he isn’t the same anymore. Your best friend is the biggest idiot you have ever seen and you don’t know why.

Warnings -> Bucky being an idiot, mention of Bucky’s past/trauma, Sharon being a bitch, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, kind of insults, fluff

Wordcount -> 7.1k (it’s long but it’s worth it, I guess)

A/N: I want to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for listening when I came up with that idea as well as supporting me to find the way through all the ideas, and thank you so much for proofreading it, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry when I hurt someone, trust me I cried a lot while I wrote that oneshot but I just needed to write something to calm down my feelings and yeah here we are. I hope you all enjoy it.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky isn’t really a drinker, especially not since he became the Winter Soldier. He enjoys the taste, but the serum that is constantly running through his veins makes it impossible for him to experience the effects of the alcohol. It isn’t rare that he wishes to get drunk so he can forget all the memories of the things she did during the time with Hydra. It’s like Thor knew exactly about his thoughts because he is waving a flask of Asgardian Ale in front of Bucky, and the brown-haired man decides it is the perfect opportunity to drink his troubles away.

“Buck, you shouldn’t drink too much of that Asgardian Ale,” you mumble while you sit next to your best friend and look at him. You know about his trouble and about his traumatic past, but you also know it’s never an opportunity to drink it away. He has the glass completely full again and smiles at you.

“It’s oke; I can’t get too drunk. I’m the Wiener Soldier,” he says and bursts out laughing. Then he lifts his glass and turns around. "Cheers!" he shouts through the room, even when it’s almost impossible that someone hears it.

The music is way too loud to hear your own words without shouting. So it isn’t surprising when the people in the room don’t hear what Bucky shouts. Except for the two next to him, you and Steve.

“Cheers, pal!" Steve shouts and lifts his glass as well. He smiles at Bucky before he pours the liquid down his throat. You shake your head and turn around. Your back leans against the counter, and you place your forearms on top of the counter, looking at the people dancing in the middle of the room.

“Haven’t felt like that since the 40’s,” Bucky groans, filling his glass again. Then he turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. “I feel like I’m 20 again; it feels better than I thought. Do you always feel like that?” he asks and places his hand on your shoulder, standing up slowly to stand in front of you.

Then he winks at you while he almost falls to the side. You almost burst out laughing when he tries to grab something to not fall.

“Woah, the room is spinning. I didn’t know Tony was able to build something like that,” your best friend says while holding your shoulders so he won’t fall down.

You look at him and grip his arms to lead him to the seat next to you again, but he doesn’t want to move. You giggle when he leans closer, and the stubble from his beard tickles you. Bucky kisses your cheek softly.

“My lady, wanna dance with me?” he asks and looks at you with the most adorable puppy look.

His blue eyes are almost begging you to dance with him, and even when you would prefer to bring him into his room and make sure he goes to sleep, you can’t say no.

With a nod, you stand up as well, and he wraps his arms immediately around your waist. He doesn’t walk far away from the counter, just a few steps, so the two of you can dance without crashing against something. Bucky spins you around while he holds you still, pressed against him.

You wonder how it must feel for him when the room is already spinning, but the way he smiles and looks at you makes your mind dizzy, and you can’t think of anything other than him. You lay your head against his shoulder, and the heat of his body warms you. His hands are around your waist, making you almost melt in his embrace, and you could stay like that for the rest of the evening.

After a few minutes and Bucky almost lying on the ground and sleeping, you push him to the seats. Making sure he doesn’t miss the chair, when he sits, he immediately looks for his glass.

“Where is it? I’m thirsty," he says, looking at you with a slightly sad gaze.

You feel a bit sorry for him, but you reach for another glass, this time with water. Bucky looks at it skeptically, but then he pours it down his throat. Shaking his head like it’s something awful he doesn’t like. You chuckle, and it makes him look at you.

“Have you ever tried that? That’s awful,” he tells you and offers you the glass even when it’s empty.

“It’s not that bad,” you reply, and you take the glass to place it on the counter next to you.

“We should bring you into your room, you should sleep a bit,” you say, taking his hands into yours.

Before you can pull him up, and with you out of the room, he pulls you closer, and his lips are just a few inches away from yours. He is so close that you can feel his breath against your lips; it's warm and smells strongly of the ale he has consumed. You need to close your eyes for a moment. The man in front of you is making you go crazy.

“I don’t want to go to bed, not yet. I want to kiss you first, can I?” he asks you, and you immediately feel like he is Bucky from the 40’s again. And even when you don’t agree to drink his troubles away, you’re happy that he doesn’t have to suffer with his past right now. And let’s be honest, the 40’s Bucky is a gentleman, and you always wanted to know him; now you have the chance, at least for tonight.

“Doll?” Bucky asks, and you feel a shiver along your spine because of his soft voice.

You look into his eyes and smile softly.

“Of course,” you answer, not sure anymore about the question he asked.

He leans closer and kisses you softly. Bucky’s pink, plumb lips are so soft on yours, you never imagined them being that soft. You slide your hands through his hair, playing with his light curls. His lips move slowly against yours, while he lets you feel everything you tried to avoid when you’re around him. The feeling in your stomach whenever he touches you, the way he looks at you, or talks to you. You adore the way he tells you ‘Doll’ and you enjoy every moment you can spend with your best friend.

And that’s the point where you thought he would never feel the same for you. He is your best friend, and he was always a gentleman, so you were sure he was just nice. And now he is kissing you, with his hands at your waist, holding you close. Bucky is drunk, so you aren’t sure if it’s just a situation of his drunken state, but they always say: drunk people tell the truth, so he would feel the same for you as you feel for him.

When the two of you move a few inches away from each other, you still look into his eyes. His gaze looks a bit foggy, but you can also see the storm in his blue eyes.

“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know. You don’t know what you do to me whenever you look at me or just touch me softly. My feelings go crazy, and whenever another man walks close to you, I want to push them away and tell them you’re mine. I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you,” Bucky says, and he smiles softly, his cheeks turning slightly red. “I have loved you for so long, but I thought you would never love me the same way. I was the Winter Soldier, and I don’t think I deserve someone brave, strong, wonderful, and perfect like you,” he adds, leaning his forehead against yours, wanting you to be as close as possible and feel your warmth.

You smile and press your lips against his again. The tingling feeling in your stomach grows again, and when he stands up, he towers over you, placing his hands around your cheeks, and he pulls you closer.

“I love you so much, my doll,” he whispers and slowly lets go of you, his hands gripping your waist again.

“I love you too, Buck. And you deserve everything good; it wasn’t you when you were the Winter Soldier. You’re a gentleman and the most precious one; I love the way you care about everyone you love,” you tell him, and he blushes.

Bucky lifts one of his hands and presses two of his fingers onto your lips, trying to make you shut up before you can compliment him more.

“You need more than two fingers to make me shut up,” you giggle, and his smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips on yours. He makes you speechless with the way his soft and warm lips move against yours.

“You two are almost disgusting,” Steve mumbles next to you, making you chuckle.

When you and Bucky break the kiss, you look at Steve. He still looks at you and blushes when he recognizes that you caught him looking at you and Bucky.

“You think it’s almost disgusting, but you can’t stop looking at us, huh?” you ask, and he immediately turns his head away while his cheeks get deeply red.

When you turn your head back to look at Bucky, you feel a burning look in your back. Without looking around, you already know the person who is staring at you with the same angry gaze; she always looks at you. Bucky recognizes your thoughtful look and looks up to see the person behind you. His hand clenches around your waist, and you hiss softly.

“Sorry, doll,” he mumbles, immediately losing his grip around your waist.

“Tony is staring at mine,” he growls, and you look around. You see Tony standing on the other side of the room and looking in your direction. He looks annoyed, and when you look a few inches further to the side, you see the person who is burning a hole in your back. Bucky thinks it’s Tony who is looking at you, but you know he is just listening to the person next to him. She is the one who hates you for being Bucky’s best friend, and now she will hate you more because Bucky kissed you. Sharon has had a crush on Bucky since you met her the first time, and he sometimes looks flirty around her, but he is always like that around friends. Otherwise, he would date Tony, Thor, or Steve as well.

The next morning, you wake up to the sun slowly brightening your room. You open your eyes and smile when the flashbacks of the last night come back into your mind. You and Bucky shared a lot more kisses, soft touches, and dances during the night.

You sit up slowly, stretching your limbs, and look at the clock. It’s just a bit after ten in the morning. After a few more minutes where you just look out of the window and enjoy the sun and the comfortable silence in your room, you stand up and walk through your bathroom.

With a few movements, you get out of your clothes and walk into the shower. The hot water runs along your body, and you feel your muscles relaxing under the warmth. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment just for you. In front of your eyes, you see Bucky kissing you the way he did last night. Your fingers are brushing softly over your lips, and for a moment, you feel like he is kissing you again. His hands are around your waist, and his body is pressing against yours.

But when you open your eyes, you just hear the sound of the water and your towel in front of you. No Bucky, right now. Just the thoughts making you smile again and the feeling in your stomach are the most wonderful you have ever felt until now. You are already excited to see him in a few minutes, but first you need to finish your shower and choose some comfortable clothes to wear.

With the biggest smile on your lips, you walk through the floor and into the shared kitchen.

“Someone looks really happy today,” Tony says, and you blush immediately.

Your eyes scan the room, so you can find Bucky and go to him. Talk to him about the last night and make sure you meant what you said. When you walk a few steps further into your room, you see Steve lying on the couch, holding his hand and groaning.

“I don’t know what happened last night. Tony, how can you manage to never have a headache?” he asks, and Tony laughs before he places his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

"Painkillers are really useful. It doesn't help to remember, but they help against the other effects after being drunk,” he says, and Steve nods. He doesn’t want to get up, so he just closes his eyes and tries to sleep a while longer.

You look around and see Bucky in front of the counter. Sharon stands next to him, and her hand rubs his back up and down. You roll your eyes, disgusted about the other girl, as you walk to them.

“Hey, Buck,” you say with a smile, and when the brown-haired man turns around, he smiles softly.

But in another way, as usual, he looks a bit sad, and instead of looking at you, he looks to the side.

“Hey,” he mumbles and takes his bowl with cereal.

Then he walks to the table, and Sharon follows him. You look at them both; maybe he has a hangover? You try to push the negative thoughts away and make yourself a bowl with your favorite cereals. You walk around the table and sit down in front of Bucky; he doesn’t look at you, and he doesn’t talk to you. He was just focused on his cereals and probably deep in his own thoughts.

“Buck?” You ask carefully, and he hums but still doesn’t look up from his bowl. “Can we talk? I mean just you and me?”

He nods in response and finishes his breakfast, then finally looks up to see you. But something is still different when he just loves to look into your eyes and adore the colors, but this time he looks at you like you’re someone else.

He waits until you finish your breakfast as well, and then he follows you through your room. Your best friend closes the door behind himself and looks at you.

“What’s up?” He asks with a cold voice, and you shiver immediately.

“Do you remember last night?” you ask, playing with your hands. You don’t want to look at him; you’re scared about the way he looks at you.

“No, but Sharon told me about it,” he tells you, and you nod softly.

For a moment, the two of you are quiet. You don’t know what to say, but the silence is uncomfortable as well. You shift from one foot to the other, your hands sweating, and you feel like you need to throw up.

“Why are you so cold?” you then ask and look at Bucky.

He clenches his jaw with his eyes staring at you, and the way he looks at you makes you even more uncomfortable. He never looked at you like that; the coldness almost showed hate in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tears burning in your eyes. He notices the tears in your eyes, and a sarcastic grin forms on his lips.

“Why are you crying now?” Bucky asks you loudly; you hiss and feel so small in front of him.

“You- Buck, yo-” You start to say something, but he interrupts you.

“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’. You have no right to say that. You don’t deserve to say that,” he shouts, and your eyes widen.

“What do you want me to call you then?” you ask, trying to wipe the tears in your eyes away.

“Use my name. I have it for a reason,” he says, and you nod, not able to say anything.

You don’t know what happened to him. Last night he confessed his love to you, and now he acts like he hates you and has never even thought about loving you.

“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do,” he says, rolling his eyes annoyed.

You feel a tear slowly falling down your cheek, not knowing the man in front of you anymore. He isn’t like your best friend; he isn’t like the one you fall in love with; he isn’t the one who kissed you yesterday; and he isn’t the Bucky, you know.

You shake your head. You want to talk; you really want to, but you can’t. At least not with the man in front of you. Was it all a lie? Was it all just fake? Or what happened that he is the way he is right now.

“Good,” he says, and he turns around to leave the room.

The moment he closes the door behind himself, you break down on the floor. You fall on your knees, the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’re sobbing loudly. There is no feeling inside of you right now; you feel empty. You stare at the wall in front of you, his face in your mind, his smell, and the way he kissed you last night. You hear his words, like he is standing next to you and saying them to you. The ones of the night when he confesses his love to you and the ones he said a few minutes ago when he was looking at you with his cold, blue eyes.

“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know.”

“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’.”

“I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you.”

“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do.”

It takes a while until you slowly calm down. You're curled on the floor, and the tears are still streaming down your cheeks. But your sobbing is quieter, and you slowly fall asleep on the floor. All the tears and the crying make you so sleepy that you don’t recognize Steve walking into your room and lifting you up to place you in your bed.

He sits next to you, his fingers stroking your hair softly out of your face, and he looks at you with a soft but sad smile. He saw Bucky walking out of the room, his gaze as cold as the whole morning, and even when he doesn’t know what happened at the party, he doesn’t want to leave you alone. But he also doesn’t want to interrupt you while you’re crying because he knows you would have to hide it, and he knows you need to let the feelings out of your body.

You don’t sleep well; nightmares interrupt your sleep every time, but you’re too tired to stay awake for a while. In every dream is Bucky; first he helps you, but in the next moment he shouts at you, laughs at you, and does everything you never thought he would do to you. You’re sweating and whimpering in your sleep, turning from one side to the other.

Steve tries to comfort you with his hand on your thigh, but it doesn’t work. With widened eyes, you wake up, starting to cry again for a few minutes before you fall asleep again. You don’t mind if someone sees you crying or not; you can’t escape Bucky, his coldness, not even in your dreams, and it robs you of all of the strength you have.

“Y/N?” Steve asks when you’re awake, but you turn around so you don’t have to face him.

You mumble a soft ‘mhm’. Steve sighs, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks, but you shake your head.

You just want to be alone right now. Steve nods and stands up, walking through the door, but before he leaves the room, he turns to you.

“If you need me, you can call me or just come to my room,” he offers.

“Thank you,” you whimper, and the tears are streaming down your face again.

You can’t stop thinking about Bucky; he is burned in your mind like something you need to be. Something you need to be happy, and yes, he is someone you need to be happy. Without him, it doesn’t feel the same; watching your favorite movie wouldn’t be as fun because there is someone missing who holds you when you cry out of joy because they are married. Playing board games wouldn’t be the same because the one freaking out because he doesn’t get what he wants isn't playing the board games with you. Eating your favorite snacks and ice cream wouldn’t be the same because the one man who always laughs about your snack and ice cream decisions wouldn’t laugh. The one cuddling up wouldn’t let you cuddle with him, and you would miss HIS warmth and HIS scent. It’s not just a man; it’s the ONE man; it’s Bucky.

Wrapped in your blanket, you sit against the headboard of your bed. Looking through the channels for something that could distract you. But you feel like Bucky is manipulating the television because every channel shows a movie you used to watch with Bucky.

Everything reminds you of him: every place, every movement. Every second reminds you of Bucky, the memories you both have, and the moments you shared. And now he treats you like you’re the worst thing he has ever seen, and there is no reason why he does it, right?

You don’t want to sit in your room, but you don’t want to see Bucky somewhere as well. But you feel hungry after some time, and even when you wish you didn’t have to stand up to get some food, you don’t want to make yourself feel worse just because of Bucky.

So you slowly get up; it’s already afternoon when you walk through your room. Before you reach the door, you see the pictures on your wall. He and you took so many pictures during trips or parties, some when he was joking and others when he tried to look mad. Even when he really looks like a pouting puppy, when he tries to look mad at you, you always laugh about his pouting face.

You open your door and immediately hear the voices of the others. But there are not a lot of them; just three of them are there and talk. Steve, Bucky, and Sharon. With quiet footsteps, you walk closer to the room. You look at the floor, hoping that no one will see you.

But when your feet meet the ground in the room, the gazes of the three of them are immediately on you. Steve smiles sadly when he sees you. You probably look like a wrack, with red eyes and tears all over your face, but you don’t mind. Sharon looks at you with a smile, and Bucky is as cold as before.

When you make your way to the counter, you hear Sharon flirting with Bucky, and you feel like you want to throw up. You hate her, especially since she is a jealous bitch when you’re with Bucky. And now he has him for himself - exactly the plan she had.

“Buck, look at me,” she says, and you look around to see what they do. That’s the moment you wish you wouldn’t be in the room right now. Sharon leans closer, and her lips meet Bucky’s softly. His arms are wrapped around her waist, and you see yourself in her. The moment you had last night, and now he kisses her, not the one he confessed his love to last night.

The tears forming in your eyes - they're burning. They slowly stream down your cheeks, but you don't make a noise; you just look at them until they break the kiss, and Sharon looks at you with a wide bitch smile again.

“You’re right!" you shout, and Bucky turns around to look at you as well.

With a confused gaze, the two men look at you, and you chuckle sarcastically.

“You don’t deserve me. You’re an idiot, and I would prefer to be killed by the Winter Soldier instead of being your best friend,” you shout, and you see the change in his gaze.

You don’t mean it, not really, but the anger inside of you lets you say things like that.

You see, you hurt him by saying that he has nightmares because of the Winter Soldier; he blames himself for that, and you were the one who was able to give him moments where he didn’t blame himself, but now that you mention the Winter Soldier in a way, you hurt him the most you can. And you’re sorry for that, but you hate him so much right now that you can’t stop yourself from telling him things like that.

“I feel like he would love more than you ever can,” you say, and you walk a few steps closer to him. “I hate you, in a way I never thought it would be possible,” you hiss and turn away to grab some food from the counter before you leave the room.

Bucky looks at you, and the moment those words leave your mouth, his small world breaks a bit more. The only person who loved him so much hates him now. But he deserves it, doesn’t he? And he can’t bring himself to walk to you and ask what he did because he is way too mad at you for a reason he doesn’t want to admit in front of you.

It's been a week now since you saw Sharon and Bucky kissing each other. The day he started to be an ass and the day you told him he didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t change your mind; he hasn't been nice to you since that day; he ignores you; he doesn’t even look at you. His arms are always around Sharon’s body, and his lips are on hers.

You don’t really care about yourself anymore; you’re mostly in your room, crying or just laying there and waiting until you finally fall asleep. Steve tries every day to get you out of bed and wants to plan your favorite trips, but every one of them reminds you of Bucky, and you prefer your warm and comforting bed.

Someone knocks at your door, and you hum in response before Steve opens the door.

“Want to eat something? I cooked, and you need to eat,” he says, but you shake your head and turn around so you don’t have to face him.

Steve sighs softly and walks closer to you. He sits next to you on your bed and runs his fingers along your side.

“Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Buck? He looks different as well since the party,” Steve says thoughtfully, and you slowly turn around to look at him.

Your eyes are red, and he can see the tears all over your cheeks. Steve lifts his hand and wipes the tears away, smiling softly at you. You slowly sit up, your back against the headboard of your bed, and you pull your knees against your chest, wrapping your arms around them and placing your head on your knees.

“I thought-“ you sob quietly. “He said he loved me, and then he suddenly was with Sharon,” you mumble, and you can’t stop the tears again.

“He told you he loved you? When? I mean, I know it, but when did he tell you?” Steve asks, and your eyes widen for a moment.

He knows that Bucky loves you? What happened to Bucky being the way he is when he really loves you? Why is he kissing Sharon when he could have you? He could have the one he really loves.

“At the party, he told me he loved me. He kissed me,” you mumble, and Steve’s jaw drops.

“He finally managed it?” he asks, and you nod.

“And the next day he was the idiot he is, kissing Sharon, and it looks like they are happy together,” you tell him, and he shakes his head.

“I need to talk to him,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You look at him while he leaves your room. He almost runs out of it, and you don’t know why, but you don’t mind. Steve wants to talk to Bucky, but it won’t change his feelings for Sharon. And maybe Bucky thought it was her when the two of you kissed. Maybe he thought it was her when he confessed his feelings.

Meanwhile, Steve rushes into Bucky’s room. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the television. He doesn’t want to see Sharon today; he misses you, even when it’s just looking at you or hearing you talk. But since you’re in your room and only outside when you’re sure no one else is outside, he hasn’t heard or seen you in days.

“Buck?” Steve asks softly, and Bucky turns his head to look at the brown-haired man. He looks more broken than ever before. Steve walks closer to Bucky and lets himself fall next to his best friend in bed. “Where is Sharon?” he asks, and Bucky shrugs.

“Don’t care,” he says, and he stares in front of him again.

“Pal, what happened that you’re the way you are with y/n?” Steve looks at Bucky and sees the small tear escaping the corner of his eye.

"Nothing; she doesn’t want me,” he answers, and Steve chuckles softly. Stubborn idiot, but still his best friend and the idiot in love with you.

“She told me you confessed your love for her. And the two of you kissed. When she told me, I remembered, and it was her; it wasn’t Sharon, pal,” Steve continues, and Bucky’s eyes widen before he looks at his best friend again.

“We did what? And Sharon, what?” he asks.

“You kissed. You and y/n. But Sharon was just standing next to Tony on the other side of the room and was staring at the two of you,” he repeats, telling Bucky what he remembers. Bucky shakes his head, thinking about the version of the party and then the version he heard.

That’s definitely not what he heard about the evening. That’s not even similar to the things someone told him about.

“No, that’s not true,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “But even when, don't you know anymore what she said? She hates me, Steve." Bucky mumbles, and he feels even worse when he thinks about you, the way he treats you, and the things you said to him. Even when he understands it now, he understands why you said those things.

“I need to talk to her,” Bucky mumbles, but then he shakes his head. “Do you think she would listen?” he asks and looks at Steve, who nods.

“She is in love with you. Even when you’re such an idiot,” Steve tells him, pushing his best friend up. “Talk to her, pal,” he says, and Bucky smiles softly before he walks through the door.

He isn’t sure what to say when he talks to you. Maybe you don’t want to listen; maybe you won’t understand. Or do you really hate him now? Do you want to see him? So many thoughts run through his mind while he walks along the floor, unsure what to do or say when you ignore him or if he messed up after all the things with Sharon.

Bucky reaches your door and knocks softly. He hears your softy ‘come in’ and he opens the door. Now it’s too late to turn around; he has to talk to you now. You look at him, and your gaze gets. immediately cold.

“James,” you say, and he shivers slightly.

He didn’t know something inside of him could break more, but when you called him ‘James’ with that cold voice, something inside of him broke more.

“Doll,” he mumbles, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that; call your new fucktoy that,” you hiss, and he looks at the floor.

You’re mad; he has never seen you like that before, but he can’t blame you. You’re hurt, and he is the reason for that. He hurts you so badly, but he loves you so much more than he can ever tell you. He can’t and doesn't want to be without you when there is just a percent chance for him to be yours. He would do everything to be yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He hates when you’re so harsh and cold, but he understands it.

“What do you want here?” you ask, and he plays with his hands before he answers.

“I want to talk to you,” Bucky says quietly, and you chuckle sarcastically.

“I don’t want to talk to you, James,” you say, and you see him wiping some tears away.

“Please,” he begs, but you shake your head. “Can you please listen to me? Please?” he tries again, and he doesn’t want to go without telling you everything he feels, everything about the way he acted, especially why he acted like that. “Doll, please listen to me. Just this time, if you want me to go, then I will, and I will never talk to you again if you don’t want me to,” he says and sobs quietly.

You haven’t seen Bucky crying; sometimes he looked like he was about to cry, but he never cried. And now he stands in front of you, begging and crying for you to listen to him. And you want to listen, but the anger inside of you gets in control of you.

“You could have talked to me earlier. I fucking- I don’t care anymore,” you shout, and he flinches.

The strong super soldier looks like a small boy.

“Please, I love-“

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear all those lies anymore. Just shut up and go with those lies to your new girl,” you say, anger in your voice, and Bucky can’t stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.

He hurt you more than he thought he did. But he was so mad at you; he was mad about the things he heard. And now he is about to lose the most important person in his life. He loves you more than everything; he never loved someone as much as he loves you.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I really am. I love you,” he whispers, and you shake your head sarcastically, laughing.

“I saw that. You treated me like the worst person you know; that’s love for you?" you ask, and he immediately shakes his head.

“No, but I didn’t know about the things that happened during the party,” he says, and he walks a step closer, slowly, to make sure you’re oke with it.

You want to throw him out of your room, but you also want to know what happened and why he was the way he was. He wouldn’t beg and cry when it wasn't important to him. So you accept when he takes a seat at the edge of your bed and looks at you. His eyes are red, and you can see the traces of his tears on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, still blaming himself for doing all this to you. Bucky wants to touch you; he wants to hug you; and he wishes you would tell him it’s oke. But he knows he needs to explain his behavior before he can get some of that; when you’re ready to do it, then.

“What happened that night?”

He is interested in knowing what happened, and you clear your throat before you think about it again. When he turned into an idiot, you tried to avoid all his touches, his words, and his kisses so you didn’t need to cry all the time. And now he wants to know the truth, and you want to tell him, but you don’t want to cry because of that.

“Thor had some Asgardian alcohol there, and it made you drunk. We danced a bit; you told me you loved me; you kissed me,” you tell him, and he nods.

“You didn’t flirt with someone else?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No, why should I? I love you, and I was happy you felt the same, but then you acted completely different the next day,” you mumble and look at him.

Bucky is playing with his fingers; you see the way he suffers because of his metal arm, and you remember the things you said about the Winter Soldier, and he probably hates his metal arm even more now.

“Why did you do it the way you did, and why are you suddenly so nice again?” you ask, and his jaw clenches slightly. Not in an angry way, but more in a thoughtful clenching.

“The morning after the party, I had a bad hangover and didn’t remember much of that night. I know that I kissed someone, but I don’t know the person. Sharon came into the room, and she asked me how the party was, and I told her I didn't know because I had too much alcohol. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and when I asked her why she said I kissed her that night,” he tells you, and you nod, blaming yourself for being the same way to Bucky as he was to you, even though it’s not his fault.

“I told her I don’t love her because I love you. And she told me about your night with a guy I don’t know. Sharon said you were flirting with me, but you have someone else, and you were flirting with me so you can make jokes with your boy about me being so dumb and really think you could love me the way I love you,” he continues, and your jaw drops slightly.

“Bu- James, there is no one else. I love you, and when you changed into the idiot you were, I hated the thought of you touching Sharon and the way you kissed her. But when you love me, why did you kiss her?” you ask, and Bucky runs his fingers through his hair.

“I wanted a distraction,” he whispers quietly, ashamed of that.

For a moment, you both sit in silence, looking at each other. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"When you said those things about the Winter Soldier?” He asks, and you see his hands shaking softly. His anxiety gets worse when he thinks about your answer; maybe you could really mean it? Maybe you really think the Winter Soldier could love more than Bucky can?

“No, I was mad. I’m sorry, Buck,” you say, and he nods. You smile softly when he doesn’t tell you to stop calling him ‘Buck’. “I’m really sorry, but I didn’t see how much I would hurt you with that,” you add.

“I think I deserve it,” he replies, and you want to agree, but you also know it would make him feel worse.

He was an idiot, but now that he sits there, he begs and cries that you listen to him so he can excuse his behavior. He blames himself for so much; you don’t want him to blame himself for more.

“Buck?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Tell me the truth, please.”

You look into his eyes; the blue is as warm as the one you’re used to seeing when he is with you.

“I love you, doll. I never wanted to hurt you; I want to be yours. I want you to be mine,” he says, blushing slightly. You don’t know what to say. You want to tell him you feel the same, but at the same time, you’re scared he will go to Sharon when you’re not enough for him anymore. “I’m sorry, you had to listen. But thank you for listening,” he tells you and stands up to leave the room.

You reach for his metal arm, and he flinches when you touch it.

“Sorry,” you say, slightly shocked, and let go of his arm. Bucky turns around and smiles softly.

“Just didn’t think you would touch it.” His voice is so soft, exactly the way you love when he talks to you.

“Can you stay?” you ask and look down; maybe he would prefer to go to Sharon because you were really mean?

Bucky’s smile grows, and he lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his lap. His hands slide your back up and down, and he looks into your eyes like they are the most adorable things he has ever seen. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you play with his soft hair.

He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours, when you stop him.

“Did you brush your teeth and clean your face after she kissed you?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, and Bucky can’t stop himself and bursts out laughing.

“Yes,” he whispers, and he places one of his hands on your neck to pull you closer. His lips touch yours softly, and you almost melt in his embrace. Bucky moves his lips against yours, and a small smile appears on his lips.

“I love you, James,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes.

“Can you be serious for a moment, doll?” he asks, laughing, and you look like you need to think about it before you answer him.

“I don’t know what you mean, James,” you giggle.

“But I love you too, doll,” he chuckles, pressing his lips on yours again to make you shut up and feel you as close as possible in that moment. He feels complete and comfortable now, being with his girl, the one he loves more than everyone, the one who loved him even when he was the Winter Soldier.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @km-ffluv | @kandis-mom | @lives-in-midgard | @bucky-barnes-lover | @felicitylemon | @sweater-bee | @identity2212 | @cjand10 | @bookishtheaterlover7 | @harleycao | @buckyalpine (I tag you here because I can’t find the post where you asked for angst oneshots)

[eyelessfaces]

three weeks

poe dameron x reader

summary: poe has never been gone that long since you started dating; mornings happen to feel warmer when he is home.

warnings: p with minimal plot....., morning sex, handjob, piv sex, hair pulling (POE RECEIVING), this isn't just corn I promise it's mostly sweet because your honor they are in LOVE

tags: f!reader, fluff, banter, teasing:)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

!!may the force be with you

You had fallen asleep to the featherlight stroke of his fingertips against your arm in his warm embrace; he had never been gone for that long since you started dating, and though you knew you would have to get used to being apart, you weren’t sure you actually would, ever. 

But if it always felt this way, always felt raw and pure when you found each other again like you had just fallen in love with each other all over again, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be torn apart from time to time.

His eyes are still shut when yours open, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as his slow, steady breath tells you he’s still asleep. It is quite rare for the both of you to be able to linger in bed and enjoy a morning together, he is most of the time already long gone when you wake up, even on his days off he still spends running around everywhere. 

You softly call his name when your hand comes to rest over his bare torso, fingers twisting with the chain around his neck, mouth pressing against the light stubble of his cheek.

He stirs softly, and his face contorts into a small yawn before he turns so he can nuzzle against your own. 

“Morning,” he rasps softly, voice cracking with sleep as his eyes remain shut. His hand slips under the sheets, settling over your hip, his throat vibrating with a low hum as your fingers gently weave through his thick, messy curls. His own fingers mirror yours when they slip under your shirt, rubbing patterns onto your skin; you always wonder how he’s so warm all the time, heat radiating off his body like a living radiator.

“Morning,” you reply in a soft exhale, smiling as he drowsily blinks at you. “Slept well?”

He hums in reflection. “Better than the past three weeks” he ultimately affirms, his lips faintly pecking at the corner of your mouth.

“Corny” you mock, sighing softly when he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“Factual” he counters as he squeezes your hip, causing you to softly yelp in surprise and make him breathe out a laugh against your shoulder. “May seem surprising, but I actually like sleeping by your side in my bed more than I like sleeping practically on the ground in a shitty tent.” he adds, leaving a kiss just above the collar of your shirt before turning around.

“I would’ve never guessed that.” you tease. Poe takes a look at the holographic clock, turning back to you with a small frown when he realizes what time it is. Your eyes widen playfully, “I took the morning off. Surprise”

“Ouhhh,” he chants with a snide smirk, his hand crawling higher under your shirt as he presses his body close to yours again. “What a nice surprise”

“First time we can spend the morning together,” you note.

“It happened before”

You scoff. “Not by the book. You ended up being late to your own meeting” you retort with a playful smirk. The memory makes your stomach flutter; he had been particularly needy and desperate that morning, and you had had trouble trying not to laugh when he showed up to the conference room with his hair all mussed up and a faint blush over his face.

“Alright, yeah, but neither of us would’ve been happy if I left the room to get to the meeting in time huh?” he smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a quick kiss as his hand under your shirt tickles up your ribs. “We kinda were in the middle of something”

“That we were” you acquiesce with a grin, hands joining the back of his neck to pull him back to your face again. His lips push against yours in a bruising kiss now, his free hand grasping onto your chin to part your mouth so he can slip his tongue in. He somehow manages to feel even closer to you when he works his tongue against yours, his kiss hungry and demanding as he softly grinds his hips against yours, his touch warm and impatient; your soft moan resonates within him when he cups your breast under your shirt, squeezing it softly.

He pulls away so the both of you can catch your breath. “Eager much?” you ask against his mouth, his lips still brushing against yours. 

“I mean, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you baby.”

You smile, “Mhm” you mindlessly play with the curls at his nape, hands shifting to rest over his broad shoulders, your thumb gently rubbing over a small faded scar there. He presses his forehead against yours, his warm brown eyes boring into yours with that look you know all too well. 

“I missed you” he mutters, hand smoothing over the surface of your stomach. You smile as you softly trace his face, the light stubble prickling the tips of your fingers.

“I know.” you press your lips against his again, hands shifting to grasp onto his hair; he lets out a faint groan when you bite onto his bottom lip as you pull away from the kiss. “Let me get on top of you” you demand, poking his stomach playfully.

“Oh yeah baby” he rolls onto the side, letting himself lay back down beside you. “Wouldn’t say no to that” he chuckles, tucking both his hands behind his head, a sly smirk growing over his face as you chuckle and press your hands over his bare torso, shifting to sit over his lap, your knees at either side of his hips.

You scoff when you adjust your position, softly grinding against him. “You’re fully hard already? Not even letting me work for it? Wow”

“You got that kinda effect on me,” he sighs softly, hands grabbing your hips, caressing your sides under your shirt. “I told you, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you”

You chuckle mockingly, leaning closer to his face. “Yeah, don't tell me you didn't touch yourself though” you whisper teasingly; he scoffs and wraps a hand behind your head to bring you closer, letting his mouth wander here and there against your neck.

“My hand is nothing compared to you” he grins between kisses. You shift to the side, still pressed close to him, your hand sliding down his torso and stomach to eventually reach under his boxers. He lets out a lewd groan when your hand closes around him, his nose nestling behind your ear as you start to stroke him slowly.

“My hand better?” you ask, your other hand cupping the back of his head as he breathes out against the skin of your neck, the brush of his lips warm against your skin. He hums approvingly, thumbs rubbing at either side of your hips; he always has to touch you one way or another, no matter the situation. His mouth always has to be occupied too; the brush of his lips ignites a warmth within you as he leaves faint kisses under your ear and down your neck to your collarbone, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he bucks softly into your touch. 

“Feels so good baby” he mumbles, a loud moan leaving his mouth and his eyes squeezing shut when you twist your hand just the way he likes. “Fuck” he sighs, “You’re gonna get me off like that?”

“Got a problem with that commander?” you scoff in disbelief as you tease his slit with your thumb, your hand in his hair tugging on it so you can see his face.

He sighs a soft moan, his lust-blown eyes darting up to you. “No but– Fuck– I’d like to get inside you before I remember I actually have responsibilities even on my days off” he declares in a tone he knows by experience you can’t resist, his hand shifting to your thigh, caressing it up and down.

You sigh, “You’re so impatient it’s actually terrifying.” you say as you pull your hand out of the single piece of clothing covering him, made too tight now. “You should consider yourself lucky I can’t say no to anything you ask of me” he watches with a sly smile as you rid yourself of your underwear, sliding off his own before you move back to straddle him. 

“I do consider myself lucky” he grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze full of love as he runs his hands up and down your thighs; his fingers are calloused from pushing blaster triggers and hitting the control panel buttons of ships, but the gesture is overflowing with affection. “Look at you” he croons. “C’mon babe,” he playfully swats your thigh as he shifts to get more comfortable on the bed. “Save an X-wing, ride a pilot” he teases, drawing a stupid chuckle out of you. 

He huffs out a sigh of relief when you lower yourself down onto his cock, biting onto his bottom lip once you're fully seated as he looks down at where you're connected.

He frowns, looking back up at you when you don't move after that. “Something wrong?”

“No” you declare, not offering him any other explanation. He chuckles, confused as to why you're staying still over his lap, not moving an inch.

“What then. What are you doing babe” you try to hold back from smirking as you see him grow impatient, his fingers softly kneading the meat of your thighs, trying to make you roll your hips over him. “Move”

“No” you shake your head with an insolent smile. “You're inside me, that's it, that's what you wanted” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back the same way he does when you crack him a shitty joke; he's not sure he's patient enough to really enjoy this kind of joke right at this moment. “We have all morning Poe” you whine, leaning over to sink your face into the crook of his neck and leave a trail of kisses that follow along his necklace.

“Fine” he grunts softly, his arm wrapping around you to let his hand rest against your back. 

A surprised, sharp yelp escapes you when he – without warning – maneuvers and flips you around, making you land on your back; all that training happens to be useful in bed, after all. Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes into you, the stretch of him unfamiliar again after what seemed to be ages.

“Three weeks baby, three weeks” he rams his hips into yours, tucking his face into your shoulder. “I don't have all morning”

You cup the back of his neck, nails softly digging in his skin as you hold onto him tight, your legs wrapping around him; he’s rutting into you like you’re gonna slip away from him, escape like smoke curling around his fingers and fading into oblivion. “Missed this so much,” he sighs into your ear, his words slightly scattered by the force of his movements. “Missed you so much” 

You want to give him your reciprocation, but all that comes out of you is a broken whine when he manages to reach deeper inside you; your hands bury into his curls, slightly tugging on them in response, drawing the same kind of wrecked moan out of him.

“F–Fuck okay” he chokes out after a sharp thrust. “Don’t do that if you want me to last”

“What if I don’t want you to last”

He scoffs. “Then we’ll have to fuck again because I can’t get enough of you” he declares, pressing his mouth against yours to kiss you sloppily, your hand cupping the side of his face as he continues to fuck into you, not giving up on his rhythm. He hums as he desperately licks into your mouth, his thrusts growing messy when you purposefully pull on his hair again. “Sweetheart I’m not kidding” he warns in a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re gonna make me lose it”

You brush away the strands of hair falling over his face, “Then you better hurry making me come” you tease, making him huff out a sincere laugh.

But there is no challenge Poe Dameron doesn’t take seriously.

He fucks into you soft and deep, not letting up until he has you writhing underneath him, staving off his own release for yours. It almost feels like you’re melting into the mattress when you start to feel it, your fingers tightening in Poe's hair as he babbles incoherently into your ear, so close to his own peak; he finally lets himself go when you’re there, his stifled moan into your ear when he releases inside you extending the momentary haze buzzing in your head. 

It almost feels like you black out for a second; “Are you okay my love?” Poe asks concerned by your absent, weak blinks as his hand cups your face, his thumb gently tracing back and forth against your cheek. 

You offer him a small nod, and he shoots you a smile before kissing your forehead and jumping out of bed, coming back later with a washcloth to clean you up.

Then everything feels quiet again. The soft heaving of your breathing as his head rests over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours, the soft tickle of his fingers tracing circles and random shapes over any piece of bare skin he finds over you.

“I missed you too,” you declare in a weak mutter. “I didn’t say it back earlier.” 

You don’t see his smile, but you know it is there as he leaves a kiss over the surface of your tummy. He hums softly as you absent-mindedly play with his hair.

“I can't wait for this war to be over.” he admits. “We'll settle on Yavin, in a nice house not too far from my dad's,” he exhales softly through his nose at the idea of it all before he continues, “We'll have mornings to ourselves, like this, and we will have breakfast in our backyard where we’ll grow all kinds of plants and trees from all over the galaxy” he smiles, earning a sweet, longing chuckle from you that seems to still in the air. He pauses, waits for a moment before he says it– 

“I want to grow old with you.”

It’s in these moments that time feels like it slows down, but Poe sometimes wishes he could put this galaxy to a pause just so he could have more moments like these with you.

—

any and every comment is greatly appreciated!!

star wars taglist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

[writing-with-moss]

Saw your post, and thought: why not?

Ok ok, imagine reader is a sleeper, and they like to sleep in most mornings. But one day they decided to wake up in the devil hours of the day and bake apple pie, waking up the 141 and they're generally concerned about reader's sleep schedule and health lmao.

If you understand what I mean.

thank you anon! I really appreciate the ask. My inbox had been really funky these last few days so I'm sorry it took so long!

Poly!TF141 x F!reader

TW/CW- mentions of anxiety and pregnancy, reader wears glasses and is called American, but nothing more than pure fluff!

It was dark when your eyes fluttered open. The warmth of the bed almost pulls you back to sleep. But you manage to get your eyes to stop drooping, your body lazily rolling over and glancing up at the clock.

3:20 a.m

You groan, might as well get up and start the day. So you sit up and swing yourself off the warm covers, leaving your comfy safehaven to maneuver through the dark room. Your hip brushes against a bookshelf and your hands enclose around your pair of glasses.

Finally able to see, you stumble into the kitchen, stretching out with a hum of pleasure, shivers running your spine. The gentle lamp light of the kitchen and the rumble in your stomach kept your socked feet moving along.

You settle on a book, wide open to a certain page. Apple Pie. Warm saliva filled your mouth at the thought of what you had been craving for weeks now. It had been so intense your boyfriends thought you might've been pregnant.

You open up the cupboards and drag out a few bowls, cutting up a few apples.

You must've been too loud because you were halfway into pouring the filling when a large form fills the doorway.

"Wha' da 'ell ya doin' Bonnie?" A sleepy Scottish man grumbles, stumbling towards you in just his boxers. "Cant feckin' sleep with so much bloody ruckus-"

He pauses at your baking, raising a brow. You turn and give a weak smile. "Sorry....Didn't mean to."

"Wha' da 'ell are you makin'?" A rougher voice came from the doorway, a man in matching black sweats stood behind Soap, tilting his head to watch you work.

"Apple Pie." You curtly answered, smiling as you hummed along, popping the dish into the oven.

"Yer so feckin' American." Soap wraps his arms warmly around your waist as he pecks a few kisses to your jaw. His stubble brushing against your cheek, causing a giggle to bubble in your chest. Ghosts warm hand landing on the back of your head to scratch at your scalp before gently tugging at Soaps Mohawk.

Johnny sticks his tongue out at him, before smiling. Ghost responding roughly. "Yer hair makes ya look like a fecking rooster."

Before he could reply, another man walked in.

"American apple pie huh?" Price came in with an almost concerned expression, pouring a mug of steaming coffee. "Yer up early baby. Somethin' goin' on?"

You shake your head. "Don't think so. Just had some cravings and got up early." Soap buries his head a bit deeper into your shoulder as he chuckles.

"You sure you ain't pregnant?" You elbow his side and he laughs, pulling back with a grin. Hopping onto the counter.

"I am not!" Ghost side eyes you and you huff, laughing. "Trust me, I would know. I already took a test. I. Am. Not. Pregnant."

"What about pregnancy- Oh is that apple pie?" Gaz suddenly pops into the kitchen, scratching his chin. "You okay babe? You're up really early."

"Yeah, I just woke up weirdly early. I dunno."

Price tilts his head, wrapping his arm around Gaz' shoulder as they cuddle up. "You anxious?"

"Maybe? I think I'll be okay." You respond, sighing as you cross your arms over your chest. Ghost gently pulls you a bit closer, enveloping you in warmth.

"We're always here for ya. Our sweet girl." He pecks a firm kiss to your forehead and they all nod.

Soap grins slightly. "But are you sure you aren't?-" You throw your towel at him before he can finish.

(Hopefully this is good enough! Thanks for the ask Anon! Requests are open!)

[spookystrns]

the patch

pairing : matt sturniolo x female reader

synopsis : reader and matt meet at a pumpkin patch

warnings : use of y/n, slight fluff, reader being kind of awkward, lowercase intended

a/n : ughh need this sooo bad

‘ cause blueberry eyes seem to make time still ’

going to the pumpkin patch was purely your dads idea. your younger siblings only agreed because he made it sound so fun, and of course you were forced to tag along. at first you were reluctant to go, but with the promise of a starbucks trip and canes for dinner, you agreed.

after slipping on a long sleeve that fits as perfectly as your flared jeans, you carefully curl your lashes and apply some mascara, as well as eyeliner, before styling your hair. you’re only going to a pumpkin patch, sure, but you still want to look cute.

you grab your phone and wired earphones before running downstairs and slipping on a pair of uggs, as well as your jacket. your dad and siblings are now all ready to go too, so you head out into the car.

you plug your earphones into the jack in your phone and hit shuffle on your fall playlist, buckling your seatbelt as you do. the song ‘dark red’ by steve lacy plays and you softly nod your head to the beat, looking out the window at the fog that covers your surroundings in a blanket of haze.

a few more songs from your playlist shuffle before your dad is parking the car and waking your siblings in the backseat. you take out your earphones and exit the warmth of the car, letting the fall breeze hit your skin. following your dad towards the wheelbarrows, you pick up one of your own. your youngest sister, eloise, runs after you once she sees you pick up a pink barrow. “y/n, can i please sit in your wheelbarrow? no one else will let me,” she begs, putting her hands together as she looks up at you. “okay, but you gotta help me get the best pumpkins,” you tell her a little teasingly, helping her into the cart. eloise lets out a squeal as you put her in the wheelbarrow before repeating multiple ‘thank you’s.

you get permission from your dad to go off with eloise and look for pumpkins on your own, walking in the direction of where your sister pointed.

“have you seen any good ones yet?” you ask the young girl sitting in the wheelbarrow. “no,” she sighs in return, looking at the passing pumpkins before quickly telling you to walk down a path.

you do as she says and turn the pink cart down an aisle of pumpkins, looking on the left side as eloise looks on the right. “wait, wait, let me get out,” she yells her demand and you briskly stop the barrow, allowing her to clamber out and onto the dried mud that makes up the ground. you watch as she makes her way towards some pumpkins that look okay before turning to look at some pumpkins yourself.

picking up a smaller pumpkin, you turn towards your sister to show her, only to see her talking to someone else — a boy. furrowing your brow, you place the pumpkin into the barrow and make your way towards her.

“hey, ellie, you found a pumpkin yet?” you ask, looking down at the young girl, choosing to ignore the boy in front of her. “yeah, but it was too big, so he’s helping me pick it up,” she turns and tells you with a smile, pointing to the boy. that’s when you get a proper look at him.

his brown hair is somewhat hidden under the red cap he’s got on, his sweater seems to fit perfectly, and his baggy jeans have a carabiner that keeps car keys dangling from it. after giving him a once over, you study his face; the soft smile that plays at his lips, the slight stubble that makes his cheekbones more pronounced, the way his nose is slightly pink due to the autumn air. but that thing that really makes your heart flutter is his eyes. his blue eyes that meet yours and time seems to slow as they do. it’s only then, however, when you realise how much you’d been staring. you blink out of your daze and listen intently as he speaks. “i’m matt,” he introduces himself with a smile, which you subconsciously return.

“yeah, matt’s helping me with the pumpkin,” eloise deadpans, clearly oblivious to the current situation. “this is my sister, y/n,” the girl then tells matt from in between the two of you. “y/n,” matt repeats with a nod before walking past you and putting the pumpkin into the wheelbarrow. “thanks matt,” your sister calls out, climbing in after the pumpkin. “you don’t need any help with anything, do you?” the boy asks you, once again snapping you out of your daze. “n-no, no thank you,” your reply is a little delayed, your mind choosing to focus more on his voice than the actual words he’s speaking. “okay, well i’ll see you around, y/n,” he smiles, turning around and walking towards two other boys who you assume are his brothers.

you focus your attention back to eloise, who is now requesting that you move the wheelbarrow in another direction, which you do after staring at matt a little more.

the rest of the time spent at the pumpkin patch, you’re just thinking about matt. his fit, his face, his hair, his voice, everything. you’re also thinking about how awkward you were, and wish that you got his number or instagram or something.

.・。.・゜✭・.

much to eloise’s dismay, once your wheelbarrow is full you head back to where you arranged to meet your dad. your brother and other sister also have their fair share of pumpkins — your dad collecting most of them. you follow them to the gazebo’s where you pay, eloise still in the barrow making it a little harder to push.

once the pumpkins are weighed, your dad pays and you head back to the parking lot to put them into the trunk of the car. there’s a particularly large pumpkin you’re struggling with, and just as you have it, it drops back into the barrow. just then, you hear footsteps in the gravel behind you. “need some help?” you turn at the familiar voice, a surprised look on your face when you realise it’s matt.

“oh, yeah it’s a little heavy,” you tell him, moving aside so he can help you. matt picks up the pumpkin with ease and carefully places it with the rest in the trunk. the sight alone is enough to make you weak in the knees — the way he so effortlessly moves the pumpkin you were previously struggling to lift. “thanks,” you say shyly, avoiding eye contact with the boy. “no problem. hey, i was wondering if i could maybe get your number?” he sounds nervous as he speaks, but you’re in no position to turn that down.

you look at him shocked at first, before realising you must look stupid and foolishly start nodding your head. “yeah, yeah of course,” matt’s eyes meet yours as he smiles softly, unlocking his phone to hand it to you. you enter your number and make a new contact, saving yourself as ‘y/n 🫶’ which matt makes no effort to change, he just simply slips his phone back into his pocket. “thanks,” he offers you a smile, which you return happily before he makes his way back over to his family.

the whole ride to starbucks you’re smiling, thoughts filled with matt flood your brain as soft music plays through your earphones. your dad pulls up to the drive-thru in no time, asking everyone what they want. you order a pumpkin spice latte, of course, and your siblings all get hot chocolates, your dad sticking to a black coffee. soon enough you’re at canes, and then back home.

once you’re in the familiar comfort of your room, you put on your favourite pyjamas. choosing to turn on an old halloween movie as you get comfortable in your warm bed. as the movie plays, you internally make plans for tomorrow — bake cinnamon buns, go to the mall with your friends, and search for halloween costume ideas.

when thinking about how badly you want to wear a matching couples costume with someone this year, your phone buzzes. an unsaved number pops up on your screen with one new message. you open it, and remember your exchange with matt at the pumpkin patch.

the text reads ‘hey’, so of course you send a ‘hii’ back before saving him as ‘matt 🫶’ and reading the new message he sent you. ‘you free tomorrow?’ and suddenly all plans are out the window when you text back ‘yeah, what did you have in mind?’.

maybe you could have a couples costume after all.

[confettiibunny]

bf!leon hcs ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

note :: mentions of sex twice, straight silliness and not meant to be taken seriously !! I just goobered around for 800 something words. Also I personally thought of di!leon bcs I love that old man 😈

──── ୨୧ ──── ₊⊹ ──── ୨୧ ────

⭑.ᐟ Loves to give you hugs from behind, warm breath tickling your neck as his hands are splayed on your tummy. Feeling his stubble graze upon your skin, calloused palms slipping under your shirt to feel you. Almost on instinct the two of you start to sway, rocking back and forth and back and forth. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen, mhm. As cute as a button." No matter how long you've been attached to the hip with Leon his voice always makes you a mess, the low timbre of it tickling your ear and sends a little shudder down your spine. And he knows this and takes this moment to tease you, lips against the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings and his hands slowly but surely creeping upwards to your chest. But it's not long until honeyed words turn to desperate kisses and gentle touches turn to needy. Forgive him, really, he's just a man and man has his needs. And as he scoops you up and carries you off to the nearest flat surface, it's not like he won't satisfy your needs too.

ᝰ.ᐟ Gives the best piggyback rides. No, actually please do this with him; he'll try not to act like crazy at first but deep down it makes him so happy you have no idea. Who is he to pass up the chance to have you clinging to him with your arms around his neck and legs on his hips? It's so cute to him when he starts to run around the apartment, laughing as your shrieks and yelps fill the air. Yeah, you might be choking him a little with your arms but it's okay! Nothing beats hearing you struggle for air after laughing your ass off and feeling you lift his bangs up to lay sloppy kisses on his forehead.

⭑.ᐟ Plays with your hair as you guys cuddle. Mainly just a lot of petting, like you're a cat of some sort. Gets on your ass about it sometimes and playfully scolds you when you practically push your head into his chest to get him to touch your hair. It's soothing for both parties, laying you down atop his body and working his fingers into your strands to massage your head. Your blissed-out expression is enough for him, he’s do anything to keep it in his memory for life. Yes, playing with your hair was a must. Unless you just washed it. The hair stays untouched then. But on the days before you rewash your hair, you let him mess around with it as you're sprawled on top of him. Leon also does his best to undoes any knots he makes during sex and he's so attentive with it. Keen eyes do wonders for a tender-headed girl, propping your spent body in his lap as he carefully works out any tangles. Thinks your hair is so pretty and dotes on it, never letting you feel negative about it.

ᝰ.ᐟ Cat dad. Hates dogs, but that's not a shocker. But also, he doesn't actually adopt a cat. Instead, he constantly comes home and whips out a stray kitten from his coat, holding the little critter in the palm of his hand. Makes you a cat mom (with your permission), and does his hardest to make sure the kitten is healthy. His favorite part of the process is when he sits on the couch and lays the little thing on his chest, giving it the lightest rubs as it curls up into a ball. You snag a lot of photos of these moments and save every single one, documenting every single cat he helps. You'll also use these pics to prove the fact he has some fat tits but for now, you'll let him have this wholesome moment with his strays.

⭑.ᐟ Not a single nonchalant bone in his body anymore. Yeah no, he grew out of that after nearly fucking dying more times than he can count on his fingers. That's partly your doings since being nonchalant doesn't exist in your vocabulary either. Besides, Leon's got a girlfriend sweeter than honey on cream. Who the hell is acting nonchalant with you? He is a true romantic at heart and while sometimes there’s a struggle to show it, the effort is there. Always expect good morning hugs, goodbye kisses, nighttime cuddles, weekend love-making, holiday fucking, literally anything and everything. He'll be a dead man before he stops worrying about the world so he'll love you like it's his last. Kisses you like he'll never kiss you again; a hand at the back of your head as his lips feverishly crash against yours. It's sloppy and loud with teeth and tongue, but he could care less. Go ahead, drool all over him if you want. He'll just wipe it off and just go in for another.

[finelinevogue]

running buddies

summary - you and harry go on a little run in london with each other

word count: ~-1.5k

pairing: long-term-boyfriend!harry x reader

“C’mon, y’lump. Get up.” Harry tugged the duvet off your body, whilst you groaned in annoyance. “We’re going on a run.”

That’s how your morning had started.

A rude awakening and a run.

You and Harry had hiked up a hill and then ran along the top of it. He used it as a way to expel all his anxious energy for performing at Wembley.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The headphones you were wearing were blasting out One Direction songs, since your favourite music to work out to was their music. Specifically the album Four.

The view from the hill was gorgeous and you could see over London.

You stopped to take a moment and enjoy the view. You took out your phone and captured a photo of the view, with the beautiful scenery below.

A second later Harry came and jogged up to you, pulling out his earphones.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just admiring the view.” You panted out, not understanding how Harry wasn’t even remotely out of breathe after your 3km run so far.

“Normally I have you for that.” Harry winked at his poor excuse for flirting.

“Fuck off.”

Harry moved next to you and you held up your phone to take a photo of the both of you and the scenery behind. Harry’s cheek was smushed against yours and you both smiled wide as you viewed each other in the camera.

Harry looked at you and you took another photo, before he kissed your cheek and you took your last photo.

“Love you.” He spoke, before kissing your cheek again.

“Mm. Love you too, H.” You smiled at him, leaning in to give him a kiss.

His stubble had not been shaved this morning, so you got slightly scratched by the dusting of hairs over his jaw and upper lip.

You hummed into the kiss as you took pleasure out of kissing him.

It made the run worth it.

“Run in front of me on the way back down?” He asked.

“Why?” You furrowed your brows.

“Well… ‘Cause.. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Harry Styles.” You cocked an eyebrow and pointed a finger onto his chest. He caught your finger and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your palm softly.

“Fine. I want to have a good view on the way back down.” He smirked. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you imagined they were slightly dilated.

“You’re so gross.” You pushed your hand onto his face and moved his head away from you jokingly.

“And yet you still want to marry me.”

“Steady on, my friend. You haven’t even asked the question yet.”

“Not when you’ve just friend zoned me.”

“H, baby. We’re so far out of the friend zone.”

“Are we now?” He teased, coming closer towards you again. You let him move close until his face is inches away from yours. His oxygen became your oxygen.

“Mhm.”

“So if I got down on one knee now…”

“Which you’re not.”

“How do you know?” Harry questioned with a giggle.

“Because you know that I’d hate this for a proposal. Instead I’d want to…”

“Be in bed after a night together and it to just be so random and so casual that it would be perfect.” Harry nodded. “Yes. I know you. I remember.”

“No friend of mine would know that.”

“Lucky me i’m not just your friend then.”

“You will be if you keep forcing me on these early morning runs though. Believe me.” You joked, turning around to walk down the path.

Before you can get far, Harry tugs on your elbow and whips you back around to face him. Your chest hit his and through your gasp, Harry captured your lips with his and roughly kissed you.

You moaned through the kiss and held onto him tight.

You moved your head to the side and kissed him from a different angle, kissing him like it’s your last time.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re never going to be just my friend, baby. Yes, you’re my best friend, but you’re also my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé. I promise you that.”

He was going to kiss you again when you saw some people walking up behind Harry.

One girl of them had a phone, which was obviously, not so subtly, recording the interaction. The other girl was walking up to Harry with a giant grin on her face.

“Excuse me? Hi. Are you Harry Styles?” The girl asked as if she didn’t already know.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat, sort of standing in front of you because he hated the thought of you being filmed without consent because of him.

“I knew it! I love your music! We thought we saw you from down that hill, but were slightly unsure.”

So… they were following you.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they had been hiding and filmed you and Harry this entire day. Including the heavy making out.

Your hand slid into Harry’s to comfort him, knowing how uncomfortable he gets in these situations.

“Can we maybe get a photo?” The girl asked.

“Um. Not today sorry.” Harry replied and you squeezed his hand in assurance that he’d said the right thing.

“Oh okay.”

“Lovely to meet you though.” Not.

“Oh my God. And you too! This is crazy aha!” She walked back to her friend and they started squealing.

You tugged on Harry’s hand and motioned for him to follow you. You walked down the hill in front of him, knowing he wouldn’t allow you to walk behind him now that those girls were back there.

“Can we run again, baby? Please?” Harry asked from behind you and it was obvious he had gained some new nervous energy that he wanted to expel.

“Of course.” You smiled and began to jog again.

Harry matched your pace this time and before long you were back down at the bottom of the hill and far away from those girls.

More people might be on their way here though if they know that Harry’s been here.

Harry wasn’t going to risk it, so you walked back as quickly as you could back home.

Home came quicker than you thought, having passed the time with Harry with mindless games and random chat.

The comfort of home felt good. A similar feeling that Harry brought you.

When you were through the door, you hugged him tight with your face pressed against his chest.

“I love you.” You reminded him.

“I love you too.”

“And you don’t have to apologise for saying no to photos. Especially when those girls were following us. I don’t want your apology, okay? I just want you to be okay.”

“I’m always okay as long as I have my best friend with me.”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Dave Mustaine being the reader's stepfather and they fall in love and have sex (pet names, praise kink, size kink)

A/n: I wish this was longer bc I love this prompt so much for reasons that I should tell a therapist, I'm also assuming you meant grandma Dave but I just had this thought with 90's Dave, I think it could work no matter what era you think of it as that's just the era I had in mind while writing this <3

(I lied he must have stubble ☺️)

Warnings: Smut, age gap, riding, size kink, praise kink (kind of?), pet names, hints to oral (f receiving) but not explicitly stated or described, pantie stealing, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Your mom was young, she'd gotten pregnant with you when she was 19. She had a tendency to rush into relationships so when she told you she was moving the both of you into her boyfriends house you didn't think twice of it, you just got your stuff packed and kept it that way, sure that you'd be moving out in just a minute.

Your mom had a long list of partners, some were better than others but one rule remained the same. You wouldn't meet them until at least a year into the relationship, so you moved in with no idea who this man was, and you were pleasantly surprised with who you were met with.

Dave was, to say the least, fine. He was tall, at first glance distinguished and nice. He saw that you weren't big on talking with him so he didn't push you to do so, he let you hide away in your room as much as you needed.

The first week, anyway.

After the initial meeting he tried to get to know you better, he'd ask your mom about your favourite things so he could try to start conversations but it didn't seem to get him anywhere.

He honestly thought you hated him. You did too, but then you were in his lap.

It was late, you were just watching a movie on your laptop in bed when he came in. You weren't sure how you got naked, when you straddled his lap, it was a blur but suddenly he was inside you and your were bouncing on his length.

His big hands were on your hips, guiding you on his cock. Maybe it was the position or maybe it was your mind running laps but he seemed so much bigger than you, from the way he looked at you to how he bruised your insides.

"Oh, fuck, taking me so good, aren't you?" He mused, staring at you, right where he kept disappearing into you.

"Ngh, fuck, daddy~" You moaned, eyes rolling back. Your hands were on his shoulders, using him as support as you rode him.

"Go on, princess, you're doing so good for daddy, aren't you?" He praised. "Don't need any instructions, just needed permission to get off on me, didn't you?" You nodded, eagerly agreeing with him.

He was so fucking hot, his long hair reaching his perfectly perky nipples you had an oddly faint memory of licking, smudged lipstick covering his chest, those kind eyes and encouraging smile. Fuck, just everything.

"Daddy-daddy, m'close, 'm s'close." You whined, focusing more on your own pleasure and reaching down to rub your swollen and neglected clit.

"Look at you being a good girl and making herself feel good." He said with a smile. "Go on and cum on daddy's cock, hm? You can do that for me, princess, can't you?" Again you nodded.

You could feel your high approaching, it was so close yet so far out of reach. You kept bouncing on him, moaning as you felt the veins on his cock pulsing and dragging against your gummy walls, no matter how fuzzy everything became you had one goal. You could swear it was just there, that knot in your gut ready to snap but it stopped.

"Princess? C'mon, you can't sleep out here, princess." You heard. It was Dave's voice. He was crouched next to you as you lay on the couch, a movie set up in the TV but it must've ended after you fell asleep.

Dave had been shaking you trying to get you up. "It was a dream..." You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"Yeah, guess so." Dave said, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn't believe it, all those feelings, those words, it was gone. Well, not really. It couldn't be gone because it was never technically there. "I came to get something to drink and heard you mumbling to yourself on the couch."

You froze and your eyes widened.

"I-I was..?" You asked nervously.

"Yeah, something about your 'daddy' needing to come..?" He asked. You stared at him, how could he be so oblivious? Thank God he was but how?

You spewed some bullshit about your 'dad' and he accepted that.

"Well, it's late, you should get to sleep. In your own bed, that is." He helped you up and kept an arm around you as he walked you back to your room.

There was a stinging between your thighs and you could've sworn you'd tied your sweats, they must've come undone while you slept.

Dave tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead, a strange wetness clinging to his stubble.

He got up and walked to the door but before he left he turned back to you. "By the way," he started and pulled a small piece of cloth out of his pocket, "I'm keeping these." He held your panties like a reward before he left, closing the door behind him.

[goblinontour]

Awkwardly Stretching And Yawning

it’s always hard in the morning (would have been the better title but I’ve already used it)

warnings: fetus!al, fluff, smut, piv, young and in love, it’s cheesy

word count: 8k

His hair was sweaty the first time you met him, and it was sweaty every single time after that. Even in the cold, when the wind bit through your coat and left you shivering, his dark strands still clung damp to his forehead like he’d just run a marathon. He wasn’t a runner. You were sure of that — he was slow, always trailing behind like he had nowhere urgent to be. You’d once joked about it, something about snails moving faster than him, and he’d just grinned lazily, all soft lips and cockiness, like he knew something you didn’t.

Still, the sweat lingered. It made no sense, but you didn’t mind. It was the kind of detail you’d come to think of as uniquely his. Something only you knew because you were the one who reached for him. Always. Your hands threading through his hair, the damp strands slipping between your fingers as you pulled him closer — close enough to kiss, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin like he’d been out in the sun all day.  

Sometimes, you’d do it just to see what he’d do. Just to watch that stupid grin break across his face like it couldn’t be helped, like he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch no matter how hard he tried to pull away. “Stop that.” he’d mumble, though his voice never carried any real weight, his hands always ghosting at your waist or curling around your wrists like he wanted you to keep going.  

You always did. It was impossible not to.  

And maybe you should’ve teased him more about it. His perpetually sweaty hair, his inability to keep from leaning into you — but you never did. Because when you pulled him closer, when his grin faltered just a little and his breath hitched, you felt it. That shift. Like the world had stilled, leaving only the two of you in its quiet aftermath. His hair was damp, yes, but it was real, and it was his, and you could never resist tangling your fingers into it just to feel something so alive beneath your touch. 

Now you’re in his lap, his hands splayed warm across your thighs, and your fingers are tangled in his hair like they always are. It’s still damp. Of course it is. But now you can blame it on the heater turned up to the max, the radiator rattling like it might burst, the heat heavy in the air and curling around you like smoke. It’s stifling, almost unbearable, and you swear you can feel it searing into you from across the room.  

You don’t care.  

Because you’re kissing him, and you’ve been kissing him for so long that you’ve forgotten where you are, forgotten the way the rest of the world feels. You’ve kissed him until your lips feel raw, tender and buzzing like a spark waiting to catch. Until your chest aches from holding your breath for him, like breathing was a luxury you’d trade just to stay close.  

And then you’re forced to pull away, gasping, your head swimming.  

His lips are red and slick, his hair more disheveled than it ever was before, and he’s looking at you with that expression like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He licks his lips and it makes you want to kiss him all over again, the pull of it deep and restless in your chest.  

“Hot in here, isn’t it?” he murmurs, low and rough, words pressed out like he’s trying to catch his breath too.  

You huff a laugh, your hands sliding from his hair to his jaw, your thumbs brushing over the invisible stubble that’s just starting to show. “Yeah. Your fault, though.”  

His grin is slow and lazy, the kind of smile that makes you feel like he’s got you figured out, even when he hasn’t. “The heater?”  

“You.” you correct, nudging his forehead with yours.  

And you’re still so close you can feel his breath fan against your lips when he laughs. “I’m the problem?”  

“Always.”  

It’s teasing. You don’t mean it. Not really. Because there’s something about him that’s always been so easy, so natural, like you’ve known him your whole life, even if you hadn’t. It’s in the way he lets you pull at his hair, in the way he leans into you like you’re the only thing he needs. It’s in the way he’s looking at you now. 

You press your palms against his cheeks because you feel like you might float away without something holding you there. “You’re sweaty again.” you murmur.  

He groans, his head falling back with a dramatic thud. “It’s hot in here. Not my fault.”  

You roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. “I don’t mind.”  

“No?”  

“No.” you say, threading your fingers through his hair again, pulling just slightly so he tilts his head back to meet you. “Not if it’s you.”  

And maybe you’ve been kissing him all afternoon, maybe your lips are already swollen and your body is buzzing from the heat of him, but you kiss him again anyway. Slower this time. Like you’ve got all the time in the world. Because you do. You’re still young, and his room feels like the only place on earth that matters, and this is enough for you to live off of.  

His hair is damp, and his lips are soft, and his arms curl around you like he couldn’t hold you close enough if he tried. And for once, you don’t feel like teasing him about it. You just kiss him. 

When you break apart again his hands rest on your thighs, just barely there, and when you look at him, he’s grinning again — that slow, lopsided smile that’s all teeth and something else that makes your stomach flip. You roll your eyes at him, pressing your hands to his chest to steady yourself as you climb off, and he lets out this little whine of protest, though he doesn’t stop you.  

It’s later, and the heat of the room has settled into something quieter. You’re perched at the edge of his bed, rummaging through your bag with a growing sense of dread because, of course, you didn’t pack pyjamas. It wasn’t supposed to be an overnight thing. You were just supposed to hang out, maybe grab dinner, and then leave, but plans like that never stick when you’re with him. He’s too good at convincing you to stay longer, to forget the time.  

So now you’re stuck, turning your bag inside out like maybe a pair of shorts will appear, but nothing does. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter, looking over at him where he’s sprawled on his back, flipping a pen between his fingers.  

“What?” he asks, looking up with that innocent tilt of his head, like he hasn’t been watching you the whole time.  

You hesitate for a second before deciding not to care. “Nothing.” you mumble. You grab one of his shirts from the drawer — soft and a little worn, smelling like him — and strip off your jeans and sweater. You change with your back to him, just enough skin showing to get a reaction if he’s looking, but still leaving enough covered for modesty’s sake. His shirt hangs loose over your frame, brushing against the tops of your thighs, and you tug at the hem to make sure it’s long enough. You glance over your shoulder just in time to catch him biting his bottom lip, trying to look nonchalant about it.  

The corner of your mouth lifts. “What?”  

“Nothing.” he says, too quickly.  

You smile to yourself as you climb back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged near the pillows. “I forgot pyjamas.” you explain, tugging at the hem of his shirt again. “Totally not intentional, by the way.”  

He snorts, rolling onto his side to look at you properly, his hand propping up his head. “Sure it wasn’t.”  

“It wasn’t.” you insist. “Staying the night wasn’t the plan, remember?” You pause, biting your lip. “Is it okay? If I stay, uh, with your…”  

“Me parents?” he finishes for you.  

“Yeah.” 

His expression softens. “’Course it’s okay. They like you.”  

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing at him.  

“Yeah.” he says simply, his smile warm and a little boyish, and you know he doesn’t give it to just anyone.  

That quiet admission makes your chest ache in the best way. You watch him as he rolls out of bed, muttering something about needing to change too, and he starts pacing toward the corner where a pile of clothes sits precariously on his desk chair. You curl up beneath the blanket, watching as he picks through the heap, holding up shirts and tossing them aside.  

He’s smiling to himself as he sifts through the mess, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin. You can’t look away, even when you try to, and when he pulls his shirt off over his head, you stare. It’s instinctual, automatic. Even from a distance, you can see the little mole on the side of his ribs, and something about it makes you want to reach out and touch him, to trace the lines of him with your fingertips, to kiss him there just to see if he’ll shiver.  

You want to hold him. You want to kiss him until you can’t feel your lips again. You want to press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in.  

Oh, god. You’re really, terribly in love, aren’t you?  

“Eh, stop staring, you perv.” he says suddenly, teasing but his ears turn a little red as he tosses a shirt over his shoulder.  

You snap your gaze up to his face, cheeks flushing. “I’m not-”  

“Yes, you are.” he interrupts, grinning as he finally finds something that looks halfway clean. “Don’t think I don’t notice.”  

“I wasn’t staring.” you protest weakly, though you both know it’s a lie.  

He’s unbuttoning his jeans now, and you realise you hadn’t even noticed, too distracted by the more sensible top half of him. The more sensitive half, too, if you’re being honest. Ugh.  

He shimmies out of his jeans, and you bury your face in the pillow, groaning. But you don’t bury your face for long. Curiosity — or something far more dangerous — gets the better of you, and you glance up just in time to see him standing there in his boxers. The lamplight in the corner of his room catches on the soft angles of him, the long stretch of his legs, the slight dip of his hips, the way the waistband clings low. He’s lean but solid, just enough muscle to make him look effortlessly strong, the kind of strength that doesn’t demand to be noticed but somehow always is. His skin is pale in places where the sun hasn’t kissed it, and you swear there’s a faint flush climbing up his chest like maybe he knows you’re still watching.  

Then he turns, his back to you, just like you’d done when you changed earlier. He’s not subtle about it. He bends slightly as he peels off his boxers, and you don’t mean to stare — well, not really — but his butt is right there, perfectly shaped and smooth, and for a second you think about biting it, just to see what he’d do. If the bed weren’t so comfortable, if you weren’t tucked in just so, you might’ve actually gone for it.  

He knows. Of course he knows.  

“Enjoying the view?” he calls over his shoulder.  

“Shut up.” you mumble. You don’t look away.  

He’s tugging on a clean pair of boxers now. When he turns back around, he’s grinning — softly this time. He’s caught you red-handed but doesn’t mind one bit.  

You roll onto your side, pressing your face half into the pillow to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”  

He laughs, that low, throaty sound that always makes you smile. He crosses the room and climbs back into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settles in beside you. 

“You stared, though.” he teases, turning his head to look at you.  

“You undressed in front of me.” you counter, narrowing your eyes at him even though you’re smiling.  

He shrugs, all nonchalance. “You started it.”  

You huff, turning to face him properly, and he’s close now, close enough that you can see the way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. You want to kiss him again, but you’re too tired, too comfortable, too full of something soft and sweet that makes your chest ache.  

“What?” he murmurs, voice softer now.  

“Nothing.” you say, shaking your head.  

You’re still curled up, his shirt falling loosely around you, and when you peek at him, he’s looking at you too. 

“What?” you whisper, barely audible.  

“Nothing.” he murmurs back, shaking his head. But he’s still looking at you like you’re something he doesn’t quite know how to put into words. 

And you think, maybe, you’re looking at him the exact same way. 

“Your hair’s a mess.” 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, whose fault is that? Yours.” he says immediately, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’re the one who kept running your hands through it.”  

“Because it’s always sweaty.” you shoot back, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.  

He groans, flopping onto his back beside you. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”  

“Because it’s true.”  

“It’s endearing.” he mumbles, like he’s convincing himself.  

“It is.” you agree, and his head turns toward you, surprised. You look over at him, your expression softening. “It’s gross, but it’s cute. Like you.”  

He stares at you for a second, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile, and then he laughs. “You’re so mean.” he says, but his voice is fond, and he’s still smiling when he turns his head back toward the ceiling.  

“You like it.” you say. “Masochist.”

“Yeah.” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I do.”  

It’s quiet for a while after that. His arm brushes against yours as he shifts, and you think about reaching for his hand but decide against it.  

“What time is it?” you ask eventually, your voice cutting through the stillness.  

He twists to glance at the clock on his nightstand, squinting. “Half past midnight.”  

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I have class tomorrow.”  

“Skip it.” he says, so casual it makes you laugh.  

“You skip too much already.” you say, nudging him with your elbow.  

“Yeah, but I’m not you. You’re responsible. You’ve got, like…notes and shit.”  

“Notes and shit.” you echo, grinning.  

He shrugs, turning onto his side to face you. “It’s a compliment. You’re smart. Like, scary smart. Sometimes I think you’re gonna realise you’re too good for me and leave.”  

You blink at him, surprised by the sudden turn, and then you shake your head, rolling onto your side to face him too. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”  

“It’s true, though.” 

“Alex.” you say, reaching out to brush your fingers over his knuckles where his hand rests between you. “You’re, like, my favorite person. Ever. I’m not going anywhere.”  

He stares at you, trying to find the words, but then he just nods. “Good.” he murmurs.  

“Good.” you repeat, smiling.  

And for a while, neither of you says anything. You just lie there, the space between you warm and buzzing, and when you close your eyes, you think you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet, the hum of the heater filling the room, and the faint rhythm of Alex’s breathing beside you is already slowing. His right arm is tucked under your waist, holding you close, while your left hand rests just beneath the curve of his chest. You can feel the rise and fall of his breaths and it’s grounding in a way that makes your eyes flutter shut.  

He’s the first to doze, just like always. It’s something you’ve come to expect from him — how his tired eyes will eventually drift shut, his breathing will even out, and the little tension in his body will melt away. Sometimes, you wonder if he fakes it, just to escape the nerves that still creep up on him when you’re this close. But not tonight. Tonight, it’s all real, all soft breaths and tiny, quiet snores that have that same nasally tone as his voice.  

You shift, feeling his arm tighten instinctively around you even in sleep, like his body knows to keep you near. He doesn’t move much when he sleeps — always calm, always still—but you’re restless. You can’t help it.  

It starts small, just a subtle roll of your hips as you try to find a better position, but it never stops there. Halfway through the night, you turn over, your arm slipping from under his chest. Then you turn again, pulling the blanket with you, and then once more until you’re on your stomach, tangled in the sheets.  

He doesn’t stir, not even when your movements tug at the arm he has slung over you. But somehow, by the time dawn starts to creep through the window, you manage to end up back where you started. It’s always a guessing game — whether you’ll wake up as you fell asleep or in some entirely different arrangement.  

This time you’ve got it and you open your eyes to his face pressed into the pillow, and his hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions. The first light of morning spills across him, catching on the curve of his cheekbone, the line of his jaw.  

You sigh quietly, turning away from him because the proximity is too much. If you had easy access to his lips for a second longer, you’d cave, and you know it. But you can’t — not now, not with your morning breath making itself known. You cringe a little at the thought, pressing your face into the pillow.  

Oh fuck. Do you even have a toothbrush here?

The thought nags at you for a moment, but you shove it aside. Later. You’ll figure it out later.

You settle into the sheets again, your back to him, hoping to drift off for just a little longer. But then he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist as his chest presses closer to your back. His nose nudges against the back of your neck, warm and soft, and you almost melt into the touch.  

And then you feel it.  

Your body goes completely still, frozen as the unmistakable pressure of him presses against you, firm and insistent. What the fuck.

Okay, yes, you’ve slept together before — slept. As in, shared a bed, tangled limbs, whispered secrets into the night. But this? This is new.  

You’re no stranger to intimacy with him. You’ve done things — things that have left you breathless, aching, satisfied. You’ve seen him naked, and he’s seen you. You’ve taken him in your mouth, made him groan your name. He’s touched you, too, kissed you there, made you come undone with his tongue and fingers in ways you didn’t know were possible. Equally mutual satisfactory fulfilment. 

But you haven’t done it together. Not yet. Not because you don’t want to, but because time has never been on your side. It’s always been a stolen moment here, a rushed goodbye there. Too much tension and not enough space to let it all unravel.  

You bite your lip, your mind racing. He’s so close, too close, and the heat pooling between your thighs is impossible to ignore. You’re…oh, God, you’re dripping just thinking about it. But now isn’t the time — not with his parents in the room down the hall, not with him lost in his dreams, innocent in his state of unintentional desire.  

You shift slightly, trying to ease the tension without waking him, but it only makes things worse. The movement causes him to press against you more firmly, and you have to bite back a whimper.  

Okay, okay, breathe. Think unsexy thoughts. Math equations. Old textbooks. Your friend’s crush on her weird philosophy professor.

But none of it works when his hand tightens on your hip and his body is so warm against yours.  

“Alex.” you whisper, barely audible, hoping he doesn’t wake up but also kind of hoping he does because then maybe-

No. No, not now. Later. Later, when you have more time and privacy and not the looming threat of his parents overhearing something they definitely shouldn’t.  

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing your body to calm down, and after a few agonizing minutes, you feel his grip slacken, his body relaxing again. His breathing evens out and he’s still fast asleep. You exhale shakily, trying to steady yourself, and then close your eyes again, determined to fall back into some semblance of rest.  

Later, you tell yourself again. And God, you hope later comes soon. 

But later seems to be now because before you can settle yourself, you feel it — him, again. His hips shift behind you, pressing insistently against you, the heat and firmness of him unmistakable. He’s…rutting into you.  

Your breath catches, heart racing, and you think, No. He has to still be asleep. Right?

The soft, steady rhythm of his snores continues, only confirming it. And then they falter, turning into a deep, rough cough that rattles through his chest. He stirs, pulling back from you just enough to stretch, his arm leaving your waist. You can hear his joints pop as he yawns, long and loud.  

You don’t dare move, still frozen, thighs pressed tightly together in an effort to keep your body from betraying you.  

He turns toward you, his eyes heavy-lidded and his hair sticking up in every direction, but there’s no mistaking it: he’s awake now. And yet, the duvet is still covering him from the waist down, doing nothing to hide the outline of him. Oh, he’s very much awake.  

“Morning.” he whispers, his voice deep and scratchy, rough from sleep.  

“Morning.” you manage, though it comes out quieter, tighter.  

He doesn’t seem to notice, instead rolling onto his back and stretching again. You take the opportunity to lean over, pressing your face into the spot between his arm and chest. The crook of his armpit, warm and soft, the place where his skin smells the most like him. You inhale deeply, savoring the scent of him, that mix of sweat and soap and something you can’t describe but is so unmistakably Alex.  

He huffs a laugh, looking down at you as you nuzzle into him like a cat. “You weirdo.” he murmurs, his hand lazily brushing over your back.  

You’re too caught up in the warmth of him, in the way your nose fits perfectly there, in how his skin feels against yours even through the thin fabric of his shirt to respond. 

He shifts again, turning onto his side and pulling you with him, his arm draping over your waist. His thigh hitches over your hip, pulling you closer, and it’s only then that you feel him again.  

Pressed against you, hard and obvious, and he doesn’t even realise it. You hold your breath as he rubs against you, slow and absentminded, his body moving on instinct alone. It’s clear his brain hasn’t caught up yet. He’s still in that hazy space between sleep and waking, where dreams and reality blur together.  

But you are fully aware. Too aware. Every nerve in your body is alight, and the ache between your thighs is impossible to ignore.  

“Alex.” you whisper, your voice trembling just enough to give you away.  

He hums in response, his nose brushing against your shoulder as he pulls you even closer. His hand rests on your hip, his thumb stroking idly over the fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing, and he presses against you again.  

Your resolve is hanging by a thread, your body screaming for you to move, to push back, to let this moment become what it so desperately wants to be.  

But his breathing evens out again, and his lips brush your shoulder in a subconscious kiss, soft and lazy.  

“Alex.” you say again, a little louder this time, and his eyes finally flutter open, the hazy warmth in them clearing as his mind catches up to his body.  

“Oh, fuck.” he mutters, his cheeks flushing as he freezes, his hand still on your hip. “Oh, fuck.” he mutters again, louder this time, his face going beet red as he pulls back the covers to confirm what he already knows.  

And yep, there it is. His hard-on, unapologetic and obvious, tenting his boxers in a way that would’ve been funny if he weren’t so mortified.  

“Shit.” he hisses, scrambling to cover himself again. He turns away from you in his panic, rolling onto his stomach like that’ll fix it.

It doesn’t.  

As soon as his hips hit the mattress, he lets out a strangled noise, his face scrunching in pain.  

“Fuck- ow-” He twists awkwardly, trying to lift his hips off the bed, his voice breaking into a groan as he clutches the duvet beneath him.  

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s not a mean laugh, more like a surprised, delighted giggle that bubbles out before you can stop it. “Alex.” you manage, caught somewhere between concern and amusement.  

He’s still half-buried in the mattress, his arms bracing against the bed, trying to hold himself up without putting pressure on his…situation. “Don’t.” he grumbles, his voice muffled. “Don’t laugh at me.”  

“I’m not.” you lie, even as your shoulders shake with barely contained laughter. “Come here, you idiot.”  

He groans again but finally relents, pushing himself off the mattress and turning back to you, his face still flushed. He flops into your arms like he’s seeking refuge, burying his head in your neck and mumbling something unintelligible against your skin.  

“What was that?” you ask, still grinning as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.  

“I said, I’m never waking up again.” 

“Oh, sure.” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “That’ll fix everything.”  

He groans again, his hand resting on your waist as he tries to melt into you. Maybe if he stays there long enough he’ll just disappear.  

You lean back slightly, tilting your head to look at him, and you can’t help but smile at the way his eyes are squeezed shut, his nose scrunched in embarrassment. “Good morning.” 

He finally cracks one eye open. “Good morning.” he mutters back, his lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile of his own. “Sorry,” he whispers, “didn’t- didn’t mean to-”  

“It’s fine.” you cut him off. And it is. Fine. More than fine, actually. But you don’t say that part.  

He hangs awkwardly next to you, hovering just far enough away that it doesn’t touch you, his arm still draped over your waist but with a noticeable gap now. You can feel the tension, the way he’s holding himself stiffly to keep his hips from brushing against yours like that’ll make the situation less obvious.  

“Were you dreaming?” you ask.  

He shakes his head, face still tucked into your neck. “Nah.”  

“Then?”  

There’s a pause, and then he giggles, this soft, boyish sound and it makes your heart flip. “Think the knowledge of you half-naked in my bed was enough.”  

You laugh softly, your chest warming at his honesty. “Dirty boy.”  

He grins, his confidence peeking through despite the blush still dusting his cheeks. “Yeah, well, you’re the one wearing my shirt and no pants, so…”  

You can feel his gaze on you, lingering where the hem of his shirt just barely skims the tops of your thighs as you press them together, suddenly hyper-aware of the dampness pooling between them. “It’s comfortable.” you mumble.  

He hums, his hand brushing over your hip. “Yeah.” he says, almost distractedly. “Looks good on you, though.”  

Your leg brushes against his. He tenses. He’s still trying so hard to keep his distance, and it’s endearing in a way that makes you want to push him just a little. “You’re really embarrassed, huh?” 

You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours before darting back down again. He’s trying so hard not to stare, not to make it obvious how much he wants you right now, but the flush creeping up his neck and the way he’s nervously biting the inside of his cheek gives him away.  

“Maybe.” he mutters, his voice muffled. “It’s a little hard to be suave when you wake up like this.”  

“Who said anything about suave?” You drag your fingers lightly down the back of his neck, feeling the slight shiver that runs through him. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”  

“Don’t.” he groans.  

“Don’t what?” you ask, feigning innocence as your fingers trail lower, grazing his back.  

“Don’t- ugh- don’t mess with me.”  

“I’m not messing with you.” you say softly, your hand sliding lower until it rests on his hip, dangerously close to the duvet-covered evidence of exactly how not fine he is. “You’re the one who woke up like this.”  

“Yeah, well…” He trails off, biting his lip as he glances down. “Thought you said it was fine.” 

“It is.” Your hand moves just a little higher, brushing against his stomach, and he exhales sharply.  

“You’re playing with fire.” he warns, though it’s half-hearted at best, his hips twitching involuntarily toward your touch.  

You shift closer, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand moves lower, skimming over the waistband of his boxers. “Maybe I want to get burned.”  

His breath stutters and he doesn’t move, just staring at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious. Then his hand moves, sliding down your side and over your hip, his fingers brushing the edge of your panties.  

“Al…” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and he looks up at you, his lips parting like he’s about to respond. But he doesn’t get the chance.  

Your hand trails down.  

“Wait-” he stammers, his own flying to catch yours, though he doesn’t actually stop you.  

“Wait for what?” 

His breath catches again, and his hips shift, pressing against your hand. You can feel him, hard and insistent beneath the thin fabric, and it sends a thrill through you.  

His hand moves too, hesitant, his fingers brushing over your thigh before creeping higher. They hover between your legs, just barely grazing. You can feel his breath against your neck, shaky and shallow, before his fingers dip lower.

When he touches you — just barely, a featherlight graze over the damp fabric — you shudder, your thighs twitching.

“Shit.” he breathes, his voice low and strained.

And then he freezes.

“Oh, my God.” he mutters, his eyes snapping open as his hand flies back to your hip.  

“What?” 

“You’re…” He trails off, his eyes flickering down, and you realise what he means. He felt it — the wet patch on your panties where they’ve been soaked through. “You’re so wet.” he whispers, almost like he doesn’t mean to say it out loud. 

You shrug, your cheeks burning even as you try to play it off. “Well, you’re hard.” 

“Don’t say that.” he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.  

“Why not?” you tease, your hand trailing back up to rest on his chest. “It’s true.”  

He doesn’t respond, just lets out a low, frustrated laugh before finally meeting your eyes again. Pupils dark and blown wide, and there’s a quiet, unspoken question in them.  

“Alex.” you say softly, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek.  

“Yeah?” 

“Stop overthinking.”  

And with that, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s slow and sweet and just a little bit desperate. Your hands splay against his chest as you settle over him, his erection pressing against you in a way that makes your whole body flush.  

“Still embarrassed?” It comes out breathier than you intended.  

His hands find your thighs, sliding up and under the hem of his shirt that you’re still wearing. “Shut up.” he mutters. 

“Make me.” 

“I can do that.” he says, and then he dips forward, capturing your lips with his.  

A tender slide of mouths that sends butterflies spiraling through your chest, all teeth and tongues and the kind of frantic energy that makes your heart pound so hard it’s all you can hear. But when you press down — accidentally, just slightly — and brush against him just so, you both gasp into it.  

It’s instinctive, the way you press into him, your body seeking friction and finding it. The pressure so delicious. A steady drag of him against you. His hands tighten on your waist, guiding you as you move, and when your lips break apart, it’s only because you need air.  

When you’re not kissing him, you’re biting his lip, tugging at it just enough to make him gasp. And when you’re not biting his lip, you’re biting your own, trying to keep quiet because you’re all too aware of the thin walls.  

But it’s hard to stay quiet when every roll of your hips sends a new wave of heat pooling low in your belly, and the sound of his breathing makes you want to give in completely.  

“Fuck.” he mutters, and the way he looks at you — lips swollen, hair messy, cheeks flushed — makes you want to ruin him.  

You lean down, capturing his lips again. And then you press down just a little harder, the angle shifting just enough to hit just right.  

It’s game over.  

“Can I?” he asks, barely above a whisper. His hand hovers at your hip, thumb grazing the edge of your panties. The intention is clear: more, baby, give me more, I need more.

You nod. That’s all he needs.  

His hand trembles slightly as he moves it lower, brushing over the curve of your thigh before tugging at the fabric, fumbling as he tries to pull it down. You lift your hips to help him, the movement brushing you against him again, and he groans low in his throat, his breath shaky as he finally gets the panties down far enough to push them aside.  

Then he pauses. “You’re sure?” he asks, his voice cracking just a little.  

You nod again, more emphatically this time. “Yes,” you murmur, your hands sliding up his chest, under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. “Yes, Alex.”  

It’s enough.  

He fumbles again as he reaches for himself, pushing his boxers down with a little too much force, and his dick springs free, flushed and hard and — oh god — so close. It would almost be funny, the way he struggles to get the fabric out of the way, but it’s not. It’s really, really not, because all you can think about is how much you want him.  

So bad.  

His breath catches as he looks down at you, his hand wrapping around himself almost instinctively, and you feel your whole body tighten at the sight.  

“You’re so-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he can’t even find the words, his free hand sliding up to cup your face. “I want you.” he says, his voice raw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So much.”  

You press your forehead to his, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whisper, “Then take me.”  

“Okay.” His breath stutters, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he shifts, guiding himself to you. He hesitates, just for a second, lips brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me if-”  

“I will.” 

And then he pushes forward, just barely, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid of hurting you.  

“Oh, fuck.” he breathes, his voice trembling, holding himself back, trying to stay in control. He groans as he sinks deeper.  

And then he’s finally there, fully there, and you both pause, your breaths mingling as you adjust to the feeling, the weight, the sheer intimacy of it all.  

It’s everything. It’s too much. It’s not enough.  

And then he moves.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” he whispers, the words spilling out of him unguarded, and you can’t help the quiet sound that escapes your throat, a soft, needy confirmation that yes — yes, it feels so good.  

You shift your hips against him, slow and deliberate, so slow that anyone watching wouldn’t even know you’re moving. But inside, he’s shifting with every tiny motion, and the stretch, the fullness — it’s overwhelming. He’s so big, and every inch of him feels like it was made to fit you, and you’re not sure how you’ve gone this long without knowing this feeling.  

“Wait.” he says suddenly, his hands gripping your hips to still you.  

You stop immediately, your lips parted, your teeth catching on your bottom lip as you remember how undone you must look. Your hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction from the night before, and you’re sure there are still traces of sleep in the corners of your eyes. It hits like a bucket of cold water, and you want to disappear, to bury your face in his pillow and hide from the thought that he might see you like this and regret everything. But he doesn’t pull away. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, an apology written in the tenderness of it.  

“Don’t.” he murmurs, and it’s like he can see the insecurity blooming in your mind. And then it hits you — he’s inside you. His body is wrapped around yours, his hands holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s far too late for him to find you repulsive.  

You exhale shakily, relaxing into his touch just as he says, “We didn’t- I didn’t put on a- a…” He stumbles over the words, his face flushing as he looks up at you.  

“A rubber?” you offer. 

“Yeah. Fuck.” he mutters, his hand running through his already-messy hair.  

You know you should care. You should be concerned, should pull away and figure it out. But the thought barely registers, drowned out by the heat pooling low and the way he’s looking at you, all flushed cheeks and wide eyes and breathless uncertainty.  

“Alex.” you whisper, and he looks up at you like you’ve just spoken the most important word in the world. You lean down, your lips brushing his, and kiss him softly, slowly, until you feel the tension melt from his body, his lips moving against yours like he’s already forgotten the interruption.  

“Fuck it.” he breathes against your mouth, low and desperate, and you can feel the smile tugging at his lips as you press your forehead to his.  

“Fuck it.” you agree, and the moment you start moving again, the rest of the world disappears.

It’s soft. It’s lazy. Not so lazy that it doesn’t feel good — because it does. It feels too good. Like, you-know-will-ruin-you kinda good. The kind of good that turns your world upside down and leaves you wondering how you’ll ever survive without it again. And it’s not just the way he’s touching you or the way he fits inside you. It’s the way he looks at you. It’s dangerous, this feeling. You can already sense it sinking into your bones, settling deep in your veins, and you fear you’ll never get it out. How are you supposed to pull away from him when it feels like this? 

“God,” he breathes, his voice wrecked, “you’re perfect.” He laughs softly before he says “Can’t believe we waited this long.” 

“Worth it.” 

“Yeah.” he agrees, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “Yeah, you’re worth it.”  

So honest, so sure that it has you pressing closer, your body trembling as the pleasure builds slowly, steadily, until it feels like it’s wrapping around you, pulling you under.  

“Alex.” you whisper, and his eyes lock onto yours, dark and full of something that feels so much bigger than the two of you.  

“I’ve got you.” he says, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “I’ve got you, babe.”  

It’s so much. There’s so much of him — his length, his heat, the way his hip bones graze yours with every thrust. Each motion feels impossibly intimate, like he’s carving himself into you, piece by piece, and you can’t help the way your fingers dig into his chest, searching for something to hold onto.  

“Takin’ me so well.” he whispers, a secret meant only for you.  

The words make you whimper, a soft, broken sound that you wish could say everything you’re feeling. But it’s not enough, and you almost feel bad that you can’t muster anything more coherent in return. You hope he understands. You hope the way you’re falling apart over him — every little gasp, every shudder, every desperate press of your hips — tells him he’s doing good. Tells him he’s doing everything right.  

“God, love.” he breathes. His movements are still slow, but there’s more purpose now, more urgency, like he’s teetering on the edge and holding back just for you. “Feel so good. So fuckin’ good.”  

He’s hitting that perfect spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your body’s giving in. He’s pulling you down so your chest is flush with his, and his lips find your neck, brushing kisses along your skin that make you shiver. You can feel him twitching inside you, every little pulse. He’s losing control, you can tell, and it’s making you lose it right along with him.  

“Fuck-” he groans, his voice breaking, “I’m- I’m close. So close. Really close.” His head tilts back against the pillow, his mouth open as he gasps for air, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’s a mess beneath you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. “I- how do I- tell me what to-”  

You know what he’s asking. He wants to make you fall apart, just like he is, but his brain is too scrambled to figure out how. Your hand moves instinctively, grabbing his wrist and guiding it between your legs.  

“Here.” you whisper, pressing his fingers where you need them. “Just- like this.”  

He gets it. He gets it so right. The circles he’s drawing are perfect, the pressure just enough to have you keening softly as your thighs begin to tremble.  

“That’s it.” he says. 

You’re shaking now, your body so tense you feel like you might break apart. His hand keeps working between you, his cock throbbing inside you with every desperate thrust, and you’re so gone. There’s no other way to describe it. You’re gone for him, gone because of him, gone with him. White-hot and all-consuming. Your walls clamp down around him, and he chokes out a curse, his hips faltering as he tries to keep moving through the vice grip.  

“Fuck- fuck.” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut, his face scrunching up like he’s in pain. “You’re- oh, my god, love, I’m- I’m gonna-” 

He’s fighting it. But you’re still pulsing around him, your body shaking with the aftershocks, and it’s too much for him. “I need to-” he stammers, his breath catching as he pulls out. 

The sudden emptiness makes you whimper, and you glance down just in time to see him. He’s slick and flushed, his cock impossibly hard and glistening from you, and the moment the cool air touches him, he gasps. He strokes tightly, quickly, his fist sliding over the slickness you’ve left behind. 

“Oh-” His free hand clutches at the sheets, his hips bucking up into his own grip. You’re transfixed.  

It only takes a few strokes before he’s gone, a choked moan spilling from his lips as his body tenses. His cock jerks in his hand, and he comes hard, painting his covered chest with thick, messy ropes that glisten in the soft morning light. He keeps stroking himself through it, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t help but reach out, your fingers brushing over the sticky mess he’s made. He groans at the touch, his hand falling away as he finally collapses against the bed, utterly spent.  

“Holy fuck.” he whispers. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, and his chest is still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You collapse against him, your face buried in his neck, and he’s still gasping.  

“Yeah.” you giggle, and he laughs too.  

It’s messy, it’s clumsy, it’s perfect.

You stay draped over him, your cheek pressed against his collarbone as his arms lazily wrap around you. You just want to stay like this — floating in the quiet of the morning, the hum of his breath against your temple.  

After a few moments, he huffs a soft laugh, his chest rising beneath you.  

“What?” you ask, your voice muffled against his skin.  

“Just…y’know. That.” he says. “Wasn’t exactly how I imagined it’d go, but-”  

“Oh, shut up.” you say, swatting at his chest, and he winces dramatically.  

“Careful.” he teases. “Still recovering here. You wore me out.”  

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. Neither of you mentions the obvious — what just happened, the closeness of it, how real it all feels. It’s not awkward, though. Just…warm.  

“God, you’re heavy.” he murmurs, teasing, his voice still soft with the afterglow.  

“Shut up.” you mutter, lips brushing against the curve of his neck. “You’re sticky.”  

There’s a comfortable silence for a beat, the two of you just basking in each other. It’s peaceful, or it would be if Alex weren’t incapable of keeping still for longer than thirty seconds. He shifts, testing the waters, and then — suddenly — he’s twisting you both around, flipping you onto your back as he props himself up on his elbows above you.  

“Alex!” you squeak. “What the hell-”  

His laugh is bright, filling the room as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. “Oh my God.” he says, dragging the words out as if he’s just had the greatest epiphany of his life. “You’re mine. I’ve got you. Right here. In. My. Bed.”  

“Alex.” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down as you squirm under him. “Shut up! What if-”  

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead, his grin so wide it’s getting infectious. “What if my parents hear?” he finishes for you.

“Yes, exactly!”  

“They won’t.” He pulls back, still grinning like a madman. “They’re not even here. They leave for work early, remember?”  

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. “Oh.”  

“Oh.” he mimics, laughing again. “We’re free, baby. Just you, me, and this very comfortable bed.”  

You groan, slapping his arm. “You couldn’t have told me that before?”  

“Before what?” 

“You know what.” you huff, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably because he’s looking at you like that.  

He props his chin on your chest, right between that valley of breasts. “Not talking about it, are we?” 

“Talking about what?” You blink, all mock innocence, and you roll your eyes.  

“You know what.” His grin widens, and for a second, you think he’s going to say something ridiculous but he stays quiet. 

“Maybe later.” you murmur, and he hums in agreement.  

“Relax, love.” he says, his voice dropping to something softer, gentler. “We’re good. Promise.”  

You narrow your eyes at him, but his smile is too infectious, and eventually, you find yourself smiling back.  

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” you grumble, and he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.  

“I know.” 

a/n: This somehow went on so long but it feels very fast paced to me? I like it though. I think it turned out cute. I think I really want him. Based on this request.

[lxstfathier]

PLEASEEEE WRITE SOFTDOM!WILLIAM AFTON PUTTING BRATTY!READER IN HER PLACEEEE (daddy kink, oral, nd degradation if ur comfy) (≧∇≦）

Omg yesss, i love that kind of stuff, let’s gooo! <3

Attention

William Afton x Reader

Warnings: dd/lg, oral sex (m! receiving), degradation, implied age-gap, cockwarming.

A/N: i really loved writing this, its so kinky but cute, thanks for the request anon. also, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any errors, but i hope y’all like it! 💗

You shouldn’t have done that. You should have listened to him when he told you to quit that bratty attitude. You shouldn’t have been running around and messing with his stuff while he fixed some details on his springlock suit. You shouldn’t have rolled your eyes at him.

But now it’s too late.

William grabs you by the arm, digging his long fingers into your soft skin and shoving you aggressively into the nearest wall as a pained gasp escapes your lips.

“What’s going on inside that dumb brain of yours, huh? why are you suddenly acting like a fucking brat?” he asks with a stern tone in his voice, clearly fed up with your shit.

“I- I’m sorry, daddy” you apologize, looking up at him with big doe eyes, casually dropping that misbehavior.

“I don’t need your apologies. I asked you a question.”

You don’t know exactly what to answer. It’s not like you are usually a brat, but today you feel kinda… ignored. You are more than starved of attention and touch. The only thing you want is to spend time with William, kissing his stubbly jaw or sit on his lap, but he’s been working on that spring bonnie suit all damn day.

“I- uh- i don’t know, i just got bored” you murmur, too shy to express your own feelings. “And- and i need attention”.

“Yeah? does my little bunny need attention?” he says, almost mocking. “Then beg for it like the needy whore you are.”

And before you know it, William is forcing you to your knees in a way that will surely leave bruises for the next day. But you don’t care, not when he’s finally giving you some of his precious time.

“Please daddy” you plead in a high pitched voice, pouting your lips while running your hands over his thighs, noticing the bulge starting to grow on his crotch. “Play with me.”

“Stupid slut” William says through gritted teeth. “Can’t even go a day without being used like a fucking toy.”

Letting out a devilish smirk, he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants, just enough to reveal his cock, fully hard already. And you can’t help but lick your lips at the beautiful sight, feeling your pussy tingle with arousal.

Not wanting to waste a single second, you eagerly take his length in your small hands, pumping it a few times before leaning in to kiss the pink tip and run your tongue over the prominent veins, earning a deep grunt from the depths of his chest.

“Don’t tease me, bunny” William growls, forcefully grabbing a fistful of your hair on his right hand, guiding his big cock into your mouth.

You try your best to take him, wrapping your lips around it, but when he hits the back of your throat and starts thrusting, it’s impossible not to gag and drool.

Tears start streaming down your face, digging your nails in his pants while he slides in and out at a fast pace, fucking your throat as if you were a doll, not even caring if you choke. It’s a punishment after all, it isn’t meant to please you.

“Are you crying?” William mocks you again. “Come on, isn’t this what you wanted? huh? you were acting up all day just to make me riled up and now you don’t want it?. Aw, too bad, bunny, cause you’re gonna take it… i don’t care if you like it or not.”

You look up at him, searching for his -usually tender- blue eyes. But that ocean color is almost completely gone, covered by his dark pupils, dilated with lust and hunger, without a single trace of kindness or compassion.

William keeps pushing you down on his length, enjoying the warm slickness of your mouth, cursing under his breath. And it’s not long until you feel his muscles tense and his cock twitch, finally releasing all of his hot cum on your tongue, milking him dry, not wasting a single drop of his salty seed.

He thrusts sloppily a few times to ride out his orgasm, and then pulls out, with a nasty string of spit still connecting you both.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you all day, my little bunny” he says, returning to his lovely demeanor, caressing your cheek and cleaning the mess of saliva and cum running down your chin. “How about you come sit on my cock for a while and when i’m done then we can have some fun, hm?.”

You just nod, unable to talk much due to the rough throat fucking he just gave you, but really liking the idea. So William helps you get on your feet again, taking you with him, sitting on the chair in front of the desk and patting his lap as an invitation for you to sit on him.

The only piece of clothing you’re wearing is an oversized pink shirt, so it’s really easy for you to straddle his lap and sink down his half-hard cock, whimpering as he fills your soaked sensitive cunt.

“That’s it, good girl” William coos, groping your soft ass, more than happy to be buried inside your tight hole.

You smile, giving him a little peck on the lips, and then let him continue what he was doing.

William keeps fixing some loose screws on the ears of the spring bonnie suit, and you rest your head on his shoulder, tracing your fingers on the seams of his tie, soon falling asleep while smelling his masculine cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

blurb 8!! slow but steady LMFAO

Hold Me

Roman Roy x Reader

prompt: “I JS LOVE SEEING HIM ALL NEEDY AND SOFT I JUST WANNA BE THERE FOR HIM SBHSGAGAGS”

Word Count: 732

Dinner with the Roys was always a spectacle. You and Roman have been married a while now, but he never dreads these gatherings any less, even with you by his side.

After everyone’s eaten, you and Kendall mill about, glasses of lemonade in hand. One of his kids had made a pitcher, and you were more than happy to taste.

“It’s better than the one they serve at Waystar,” you tell Iverson conspiratorially, his father laughing. “No, seriously! You have talent. Keep experimenting.” You give Iverson a small ruffle of the hair before he runs off, Kendall following with a soft smile on his face.

Someone’s hand goes to cup the small of your back, and you know it’s Roman before even looking up. Both from the way his cologne smells and just the shape of his palm. He presses a kiss to your brow, pulling you so that you’re standing close enough to him that your bodies are touching.

“Hi,” he murmurs into your skin. He litters more open mouthed kisses onto your brow, staring off into space.

“Hi,” you repeat back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, half dazed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Ro?” you ask, pulling back to get a good look at his face. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced, his features heavily lined with exhaustion. You drop your voice so that only he can hear what you say. “You wanna go home?”

He’s hesitant, but he gives a minute nod of his head, and that’s all you need. You quickly say your goodbyes, slipping Kendall’s kids chocolates from your purse and giving Shiv and Ken short hugs. Your fingers tangle with Roman’s as you step out into the chill of the night, a cab already waiting for the two of you.

He doesn’t say anything the entirety of the trip back, instead just keeping his cheek pressed to your shoulder. You let your head lean on his, staring out into the night from the windshield. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, the contact barely registering. You’re not quite sure where his head’s at- something’s weighing on his mind, and he can’t seem to make sense of it.

You want to help lift this burden off of him, whatever it was, but you weren’t going to press him into sharing anything. He’d come talk to you when he was ready.

Roman doesn’t say anything the rest of the night except for ‘I love you’. Something’s obviously upset him, and you want to do whatever it is you can to bring him out of this spiral.

You’re sat bed now, in your pajamas, scrolling through some work emails on your phone when he settles in next to you. He shifts so that his body is in between your legs, his head settling on your stomach, hand guiding yours to his head. Wordlessly, you play mindlessly with locks of his hair, the way you know he likes, and he finally relaxes.

His eyes flutter shut as your nails rake gently over his scalp, and he heaves a long, heavy sigh. You lean down, letting your lips ghost over his forehead.

He gives a quiet grunt of contentedness, his brow furrowing. “Go to sleep, Ro. You need some rest.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, instead kissing the spot right above your belly button before burying his head back into your stomach.

“I love you,” he rasps.

“I love you too.” You don’t stop stroking his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

The next morning, he’s still clinging to you. The bare beginnings of his stubble are scratching at your neck, his head now pressed into the divot your neck makes when it meets your jaw. When you come to, you realize your limbs are sprawled out on the bed, and you attempt to stretch out. Your joints pop a bit, and Roman shifts, trying to press even closer to you.

“Why aren’t you holding me?” he whines quietly.

You let out an airy laugh, your heart warming. Your arms loop around him, anchoring him to you. One of your hands goes to his head, to his delight. Your other hand runs soothingly up and down his back, and he lets out a breath of air.

You litter kisses into his hair, eliciting soft, happy, noises from him.

“You’re a fuckin’ angel,” he breathes. “My angel.”

[s-coquette]

principles (1/?)

simon riley x reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: your new college roommate simon riley is a hardcore stoner who thinks he can get his way with you easily, to his suprise you don’t bend to his will.

Moving out to college is harder than expected, finding a place to stay was even harder. With some negotiation your mom managed to find a place nearby, the rent was pretty low considering it was so close to the school and it made you suspicious. Of course there was a twist, you were told that you’d have a roommate. But when you waltzed up to the fourth floor with gruesomely long steps without an elevator, carrying all of your belongings with yourself, that was the last thing on your mind.

Double checking the apartment number ‘17’, and sure enough this was it. It was under the surname “Riley”.

You gently knocked on the dark slightly chipping wood to hear a loud manly grunt and something glass or ceramic tipping over and breaking, before loud footsteps followed it.

Suddenly, you regretted your choices, maybe it was best to suck it up and pay for a dorm, who knows what kind of serial killer or rapist was waiting in this apartment. The feeling of dread curled in your lower stomach and you thought about turning around and making a run for it, that was quickly cut off when the door swung open.

Your eyes stood still at the sight, a larger than life man, his forehead was behind the doorway from his pure height. It made you wonder if he smacked his head a lot on them when he was living his day to day life. He wasn’t scrawny by any chance, a wall of muscle essentially, rippling under the tight black shirt he was wearing, trying to mind the various mysterious stains it held. He had a simple dark gray hoodie that looked like it was lined with a warmer material inside, the hood over his head.

Your eyes struggled not to move downward and look at the pair of gray sweatpants that hugged his waist perfectly, they looked pretty ratty and old but god did they fit him. His jawline was strong, it looked like it had been carved out of stone, a light stubble adorning it. His nose was large and somewhat crooked with a small scar on it, probably from being broken. Beneath his hood you noticed he had short cropped blonde hair. His most striking feature were his brown eyes that looked like they were dripped right out of a honey pot, adorned with blonde wispy eyelashes.

“You my roommate?”

Was the first thing he uttered to you, making you snap out from your gaping, a small

“yeah…”

In response.

“Right then…”

You jumped when he grabbed your suitcase effortlessly, like you didn’t just almost lose your arms trying to haul it up yourself.

The inside of the apartment was relatively big, you tentatively step inside, noticing the various stains on the carpet. It was spacious but it wasn’t clean, he kept things tidy but it looked like it never gets cleaned well.

“So, uh, this is gonna be your room, mine is right next to it.”

As you fully walk in, it hits you. A weird ass fucking smell. You furrow your eyebrows and continue to see your bedroom, it was an alright little room, it even had a small white closet that had a layer of dust on it same with the creaky old bed with a metal frame. It wasn’t very big but it had a nice window with a view of the town.

You set your things on the bed, plopping your laptop along side them.

“Uhm. It’s nice to meet you?”

You turn to look at your new roommate, his stare frankly creeped you out a bit. He looked just as weirded out, you reach your hand over and he does the same, the weight of his giant palm engulfing your entire hand almost making your knees buckle.

You exchange names and he darts out, likely to escape the awkward situation. Well at least he wasn’t trying to kill you? You look on the bright side of things and close the door to your new bedroom and hear the faint clicks of a lighter followed by a small groan. Oh so he smokes! That was the strange smell. You never grew up around people who smoked much, and if they did they’d do it outside. Of course the smell would be unfamiliar.

You quickly make sure to text your mom about Simon, just in case anything were to happen. You unpack your bags, wiping down the closet a little inside before setting your clothes in. Letting out a little sigh before moving to the bed, putting on your own sheets since it was bare and draping a blanket over it.

Opening your large suitcase and letting one side fall to the ground with a thud, you sift through it and find some pyjamas, just some basic fuzzy shorts with a giant T-shirt, it was the first thing that popped up. Letting out a breath of relief after travelling for 3 hours in a pair of jeans in this weather.

You hear coughing from the other room and shake your head, he keeps smoking even if it’s bad from him! That cough will only get worse with time.

You slowly pad into the hallway, it was his room next to yours with the bathroom right across. Not looking for that right now, you knocked on his door, not wanting to barge in.

A loud “Yeah?” could be heard, he sounded oddly happy..

“Can I come in for a sec?”

You yelled, making sure he could hear you through the loud metal music playing in his room.

The music goes to a sudden stop, and you hear him getting up and walking to the door, swinging it open and staring down at you, suddenly intimidated by his presence. You stare up at him, his arm leaning on the doorway while he looks down as to not hit his head. His eyes are weirdly red… Was he crying? He only cocks his eyebrow, questioning you without a word.

“I- Uhm, I wanted to make something to eat- Would it be okay if I used the kitchen?”

His eyebrows fall and he almost staggers while leaning away.

“Yeah, sure, go at it. You live here too now.”

His voice sounded weirdly raspy, but that didn’t deter the shiver that ran down your spine from the way he talked, deep voice with that cocky accent.

You only nod in response, muttering out a small thankyou, and turning around on your heels, scurrying off to the kitchen.

Simon shut the door loudly, letting out a sigh and falling back into his messy bed. He usually kept things pretty tidy but now he let himself go. Underwear and shirts, socks, everything strewn across the bed. His desk with his computer was probably the cleanest thing in the room. It was all illuminated by bright green LED lights, the blinds tightly shut to stop any sunlight from seeping through. He just wiggled his way to the headboard of the bed that was set low on the ground, looking at the ashtray on his bedside and the half smoked joint that was still letting out a little smoke flutter into the space of his room.

Pushing the hood that was making him sweat off his head roughly, he yoinked it between his pointer and thumb, taking a deep puff. His friends would probably consider him the luckiest guy around, a cute little chick moving in with him, all shy and polite. Sure it made his cock hard imagining her bent over his table, taking it with no complaints but begs for more.

But she was probably like every other whore that went to that college, he’s seen his fair share of them. All dumb bimbos begging for attention from a big guy to fuck them senseless, and who was he to deny them?

You stalked the kitchen, looking for food that wasn’t instant noodles and letting out a sigh, an opened pack of cheese, some water and monster in the fridge, a probably mouldy loaf of cut bread on the counter, and the cupboards filled with instant noodles and some spices. And not to forget some protein shakes that you were not well versed in to even touch. How does he keep his muscles if all he eats is instant noodles! That can’t be good for you…

Scratching your head while trying to orientate yourself in the new kitchen. You weren’t used to this, it was your first time being away from home. You think it probably hasn’t sunk in yet, that you’re on your own finally. Dreaming of this day was finally over, but it still came with so many new fears. First off your roommate was scary as fuck, you are a girl essentially living alone with a big ass creepy guy, you’d have to navigate the town all by yourself, you didn’t have a car so public transport was your only option.

Lost in your thoughts you quickly turn down the boiling water to stop it from overflowing, dumping two packs of noodles in, not sure how to cook them since you’ve only eaten them a couple times.

You dump them in one bowl and realise that you probably overestimated how hungry you are.

Standing on your tip toes, you reach up to find another bowl.

But quickly yank it away when a much larger one reaches for it instead, grabbing the plain white ceramic bowl and setting it down on the counter next to you.

“Need to invest in a ladder if you’re gonna be livin’ with me.”

He said, eyes twinkling with something mischievous.

You stutter, kind of flustered about the interruption.

“Well, you’re gonna have to stop smoking cigarettes if you’re gonna be living with me!”

You shoot back, a playful jab at him back. He only smirks and leans against the countertop.

“I’m not smokin’ cigarettes, hun.”

His irises eyes were mostly overpowered by the blacks in his eyes, leaving a tiny ring around it, a sly grin tugging at his thin lips.

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher what he just said. You never grew up with any knowledge about drugs, you went to school PSA’s and all that about safety but it never occurred to you. You brush it off, he was probably thinking about cigars or something.

“I made too much, do you want some?”

You offer, not wanting to sound too overbearing. He eyed your bowl, spicy noodles with some cheese slapped on top, melting away quickly. He only shrugged, as you were about to tell him off he interrupted you again.

“Sure, why not.”

You scowl and huff, yanking the bowl and pouring the rest of the noodles in before adding the spice packets in and laying on the rest of the cheese on top.

He grabs the bowl and fishes out a fork from the drawer.

“Should keep you round’. All my ex’s were too dumb to cook anything. One of them even burnt the noodles.”

He snorts, mixing it around with his fork.

“I’m not the one who should make up for your horrible choice in women.”

You shoot back, a snarky tone to your voice.

“Yeah? I think you’re already doing it. Maybe you’re better at bj’s than all of them too.”

He abruptly leaves and you stand there, stunned. Thinking of what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

The next morning is a little different. You wouldn’t let one comment like that deter you from your new life and getting to know your new roomie.

Though trying to sleep at night is going to be difficult. The constant sound of yelling and curses thrown at his friends through the mic on his headset were active until about three in the morning when he finally decided it was time for bed, or his friends had gone to bed.

You’d bare with it though. Yesterday you poked at him with some more questions while he was splayed out in the living room watching some game on the TV, black socked feet crossed on the coffee table as if he was still the only person living here. You scoffed and chided him only to get a snort in return. You asked him where he went to school, he replied “The same one as you,” with a look in his eyes like it was really that obvious.

You started your day fresh. Taking a shower in the pretty clean bathroom, setting your shower gel and scrub next to his, hanging up your loofah where he just had a normal sponge. Out of curiosity you reached of his body wash, opening up the plastic cap and taking a whiff. It was a generic axe shower gel but god was it nice. That strong masculine scent made you smile, would he smell like that if you got close enough?

You put it back and splash your face with the flowing water, reaching for your cleanser and washing your face.

It was time to get acquainted with your surroundings, what better way to do that than going to the store and buying some food to stock up the empty fridge you now shared.

Throwing on an old T-shirt and some shorts, you slip on your banged up converse and head out. Luckily the store isn’t too far away.

Picking out some basics, you quickly stock up a full cart. Slightly dreading your way back home you decide you’ll power through it. You even got yourself some new bedsheets and a cute bedside lamp that glowed bright pink when turned on.

You only realise you might have overestimated your strength when you pick up the bags. Letting out a big sigh, you suck it up and clamber your way back home. Climbing to the fourth floor and taking pauses almost every five steps.

You push the door open and don’t bother kicking your shoes off before lunging to the kitchen and shoving the bags on the island. A loud breath of relief escaping you, your arms tingling almost as if they fell asleep, fingers stinging from the plastic bags.

“Strong little lady, huh? Aren’t you supposed to be going to classes or somethin?”

You jump when you hear Simon’s voice, raspy like he’d just woken up. You turn around about to quip something back but your jaw gapes at the sight.

Simon standing at the doorway to the kitchen, the same black shirt as yesterday only in a pair of loose boxers. His thighs are as toned as every part of him is, his feet clad in some mismatched black socks. His hair looked a mess, even if it was cropped short, it was splayed flat on one side, probably the one he sleeps on. It was one in the afternoon, and he’d just woken up.

He quirks an eyebrow at you again, as if he’s taunting you for staring. You turn around and starts unloading your groceries.

“Not strong, just didn’t have anyone to call and it would’ve been embarrassing to leave all of this in the bottom of the stairs. And classes start in a week, didn’t you say you also go to this college?”

You mumble, staring at him through the corner of your eye.

“Sounds like you’re asking for my number. For your information, I haven’t been to any classes in a fucking while.”

You could hear the grin in his voice, as he strolled through the doorway, ducking down as to not hit his head. He reached down to scratch at his stomach, lifting up his shirt as If to tease you.

You ignored him. That’s until you felt his hand grip your ass cheek. A yelp escaping before you could help it, turning around to slap him before he stops you abruptly. Simon raises his hand with your phone in hand.

“Unlock it, I’m giving you my number, you should be flattered.”

You stutter, realising he was only grabbing your phone. He was actually just trying to cop a feel but he wouldn’t admit that.

You grumble something and open a new contact shoving the phone in his hand, turning around again to put some drinks in the fridge. That should be last of it.

Turning around to grab your phone back you see him scrolling through it, an amused grin playing on his face.

“Simon- Give that back-“

You cry out, reaching for it only for him to put it above his head.

“Who’s Jordan?”

You jump up, trying to ignore him, but he presses.

“I see your favourites folder has some nice pictures.”

“He’s my friend from high school, okay? Can I get my phone back now, please?”

You yell out, jumping up and down, clearly frustrated with him.

“Since you asked nicely.”

He hands it to you, a sly grin in his face. You push past him and land a punch to his shoulder which was more like a light graze to him.

“You stink! Take a shower.”

You growl out, stomping to your room. You hear his snort again, making you slam the door to your room shut.

Simon has never really witnessed a chick that didn’t want his cock, they act interested once they see the biggest guy at the party. Hell, even his cruel teasing get them off. Maybe you’re just playing hard to get, trying to make him work for it, or maybe you’re just a virgin that doesn’t know any better.

He looks down and brings up his shirt, sniffing it. Damn, maybe he should take a shower.

hihiii i wrote this on a whim after having a lovely conversation with @soap-ify in the replies on one of my posts lmao

[revasserium]

Im here to say that college!au opla!zoro is your most superior zoo version yet. Please share any more thoughts you have on this cute couple!!!! I love their dynamic so much

listen;;;;;; i love college!au opla!zoro so much. so…… because i am… unwell about this man, sfw and nsfw headcanons/snippets of college!au opla!zoro (most of this is based on the death before decaf fic where zoro is a fencer and reader is a physical therapy major):

sfw:

afternoon naps on the ratty old couch in the living room of his dorm; luffy is his roommate who is simultaneously never there but also randomly always there at the weirdest most inopportune moments

“what did you say he studies?” “uh… something about international policy but he got in on a sports scholarship too.” “yeah? what’s he do?” “gymnastics.” “wait — seriously?” “yeah he’s /weird/ flexible.”

sharing pizza at midnight, sitting in his lap as he scrolls through highlight reels of past olympic fencing bouts, his chin occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he explains all the different rules and moves; you can feel the light stubble, feel the deep rumble of his voice along your arm where it’s pressed against his chest

him kissing you awake, opening your eyes to find him smiling, smirking, more like — “morning…” “mornin’. you were drooling on my pillow.” “shut up!” “nah, it was cute.” more kissing, you trying to shove his face into the pillow, him easily pinning you beneath him, arching an eyebrow; you sigh, blushing, “it’s too early for this.” “it’s never too early for this.”

jerking apart when you both hear luffy’s voice shouting from the living room, “have fun you guys! i’m going to usopp’s to watch the game! don’t forget to hydrate and take breaks! oh — and i left guac for you guys in the fridge!”

“i thought he was gone!” “i thought so too —” zoro groaning when you hear the door slam, burying his face in your shoulder

study sessions where he’s just doing weight training in the corner and it takes everything you have not to be distracted by the shape of him, shirtless, powering through reps of bicep curls, when he drops to the ground for pushups, the way he grins when he catches you staring and asks if you want to help hold his feet down for situps

coffee runs in the morning, standing in line with his arm draped around your shoulders; nami grinning, “see? toldya making out would’ve solved things.”

pecks goodbye in front of the main lecture building, hearing the way the rest of the fencing team hoots after you turn away, hearing zoro loudly telling them to shut the fuck up if they don’t want their asses beat

him blushing up a storm when you wrap your scarf around him and scold him again for forgetting his own, saying that he needs to take better care of his body if he’s gonna make it to the olympics; him scoffing and looking away and, “well… i’ve got you to take care of it for me, don’t i?”

nsfw: (mdni beyond this point pls)

fucking the locker rooms post bout, his hand cushioned behind your head because say what you will about jock!zoro but he’s still something of a gentleman

netflix and chill saturday nights bc he doesn’t have practice sunday mornings and he’s not about to let all that time to go waste; leaving the tv on as he pulls you over his lap, fingers dancing up the sides of your waist, pressing you down over his cock, groaning when he fists his hands in your hair and pulls

drunk!fucking at frat parties in strangers bedrooms, bc who tf cares who this room belongs to as long as there’s a bed and a door that somewhat locks and sure, the sheets are gonna smell like sex after you’re finished but who’s gonna try and fuck with you when zoro’s always got an arm around you, when he’s got you tucked into his side whenever you’re together, even if it’s just studying at the library or sitting at lunch in the dining commons

the most jealous, possessive sex… bc. zoro doesn’t share.

making out in the stacks bc you said you were getting a reference book but you were gone a bit too long and zoro had come to “find you” only to find you trying to reach a book on a level that’s just a bit too high; him reaching up to pull it down for you, pressing a hand to your lower stomach and pulling you back against his chest, “need some help, princess?”

fumbling back to his dorm after said failed study session in the library, him kicking the door shut and tossing you on his bed, him mumbling some cheesy line about needing to brush up on his anatomy before pushing your knees up and burying his face between your thighs

[shadesoflsk]

FOR MORE YEARS TO COME

pairing: leon kennedy x gn reader.

summary: Just Leon celebrating New Year. Brief mentions of alcohol (He doesn't drink) and suggestive words but nothing much. This is once again straight up fluff hehe.

wc: 1.2k something short to end this year.

🪐 masterlist

The room was filled with cheerful voices and background music. Chris and Claire have so gratefully held a New Year's Eve party and obviously, both Leon and you were invited.

Parties weren't Leon's thing, being surrounded by people and not being able to hear anything that happened outside those 4 walls made him a bit fidgety. Nonetheless, this would be the first time he gets to spend this amazing holiday with his most trusted people.

And you, of course.

On his right hand, there is a glass of orange juice – since he has long stopped drinking alcohol, for his and your sake. He took a sip and excused himself before approaching you.

You were on the balcony, admiring the view Chris' apartment provided. The night sky was adorned by fireworks which flooded your heart with a warm feeling of joyfulness. 

That's it until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Lovely night, isn't it?” He flashes a charming smile to you. He carried an aura of mischievous and teasing, and with the way he spoke, you could sense he was indulging in some type of light-hearted role-playing.

“It surely is.” You chuckle and shake your head. Being with Leon was never boring and he made sure you always remember that. 

“May I have your name?” Leon asks, placing his elbow on the railing. He holds the orange juice glass as if it were an expensive liquor, giving him the appearance of a playboy or some flirty random dude.

“I have a boyfriend.” You try your best to hide the smirk that is threatening to form on your face.

“That's a weird name but hey, I won't judge you.” He brings his glass of orange juice to his lips, chuckling while doing so.

“Sir, I have a boyfriend.” You responded back, crossing your arms trying to sound pissed. 

“Yeah, but I don't see him.” He grins, making a fool of himself just for the sake of watching you laugh. 

You just roll your eyes at Leon's act. And he takes this opportunity to snake an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“Hey! My boyfriend is going nuts if he sees this.” You feign a disgusted expression even though your hands betray your words, they quickly find their place on Leon's shoulder.

“Let him be.” He murmured as he nuzzled his face on your cheek, his stubble feeling like sandpaper against your skin. 

Although dating Leon had his ups and downs, especially after a rough phase when he pushed everyone away, you still loved him nonetheless. You knew it wouldn't be easy and it never will be, but you could always try with him.

Naturally, life isn't a straight line that would always give him misery and depressive thoughts. After a storm, there's always a rainbow and he believes he's finally seeing colors when everything used to be black and white.

Opening up with friends slowly brought back his usual self. He still wonders if his life is going on the right track, especially when one of his missions gets too hard to handle. However, as soon as he looks back and sees how many great things he has achieved, a smile forms on his face.

Just like right now, as your perfume fills his nostrils he can't help but feel like a teenager in love. He doesn't care that he's basically clinging onto you, life’s too short to be shy about showing his love to his love.

“Someone's being clingy.” You drop the act as your fingers run through his hair. 

“I missed you.” His words are muffled as his lips are glued to your right cheek.

“I was away just for a minute.” 

“Worst minute of my entire life.”

You laugh. Like him, you often get overwhelmed by these festivities. You appreciate the thought, but sometimes, recharging your social battery is very much needed.

“So…” The way he stretched that so immediately made you think that something was stirring in that brain of his. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

You didn't miss the sultry tone in his voice.

And neither did you miss the opportunity.

“Ah…”

Both of you let out a satisfied breath as you snuggle closer to one another, a thick blanket surrounding your bodies as a movie plays in the background.

When you first heard Leon's proposal, your mind wandered through each different scenario. Most of them include both of you tangled in the sheets after a session of private time.

However, after making up an excuse, saying goodbyes, and wishing everybody a happy new year, you found yourself in a predicament.

As soon as you reached your home, exhaustion took over the both of you. So, when you walked towards the bedroom, you gave each other a look that could only translate into:

Cuddling time.

So, that's how you find yourself now. Cocooned in the blankets and letting out soft breaths, drowning in the sea of peace and tranquility, something that Leon has grown to love.

“What time is it?” Leon suddenly asks with a calm voice, not wanting to break the pleasant atmosphere that was set in the room.

“Mhm… Don’t know.” You murmur, laziness taking over you as your hand clumsily attempts to find your cell phone.

After wriggling and writhing for a hot minute, you finally found your cell phone and returned to your previous position. Your tired eyes focus on the screen as the clock reads 11:58 PM.

“Fuck, It’s almost midnight.” You tell Leon, showing him the time.

He slowly turns his head from the TV back to you, an adoring gaze adorning his face while doing so. 

“Would you look at that? Another year of being stuck with me.” Leon jokes as he presses his forehead against yours, his blue eyes almost heart-like as he admires you.

This year has been… hectic for both of them. But especially to him. After almost giving up and selling his soul to his own addiction and despair, he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, even though it was still so faint that he could barely believe he was lucky enough to live a simple life.

But there he is.

His life as an agent wasn’t done, far from that. However, he has made peace with his broken pieces. He couldn’t fix something that was inherently his, but he could surely embrace it and keep moving forward. 

After he said those words, you simply chuckled and gave him a warm smile. You were proud of how far he has come.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

And for a moment, you let the silence fill your room. Safe and love are the words Leon would often use to describe what being with you means. And in moments like these, he restates his own statement.

Eventually, you break the silence as you turn on your cell phone one more time. You checked the time and it no longer showed a two-digit hour. 

“I guess that I have to say Happy New Year?” You laugh as you admit that both of you have missed the New Year’s countdown, even though you were in solitude.

“Well… Happy New Year to you too, my love.” He says, a grin appearing on his face. “But that makes me realize something…”

With the way his goofy smile remained tugged on his lips, you could already guess what he was trying to say.

“Please, don’t say it.”

“I haven’t kissed you since last year!”

Another year with his corny jokes…