#but at the same time i do not want a '''''normal''''' job where i'm working at an office from 9-5 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlight-prose · 2 months ago

Note

I saw that prompt list you reblogged and so if you’re looking for logan ideas i really liked:

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Love your fics btw too!!! 💜💜

hunger

a/n: oh my brain went to mush at this one. like actively i've lost brain cells and am currently scrounging to find more. this is basically me being a horny bitch for this man. (possibly cause i'm ovulating). but that's okay. we're all here to do the exact same thing!

summary: things are set into motion the second logan opens your drawer. suddenly you find yourself the center of a show with only one audience member.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, hints at oral (f receiving), cigar smoking, voyeurism, dirty talk, he's so filthy i blushed writing this.

Accidental was far from the word he'd use to describe the current situation. He'd rather say it was intentional. At least that's what it felt like when you sent him to your drawer for a pair of clean boxers you stole from him in the first few weeks of dating. Logan was used to the act. Finding his flannels strewn throughout your closet—his leather jacket draped across the foot of your bed like a fancy throw blanket.

He felt it before he saw it. The soft silicone feel of something small—an uninteresting object he normally would have overlooked. He pushed it out of the way at first, mistaking it entirely for the little portable charger you usually keep by the bed.

Only for it to roll to the side, the button hitting the drawer. A loud buzz drew his attention close within seconds. His hand grasping the small vibrator and flicking it off with a smirk. A look he wore when the choice to fuck you into the mattress solidified in his mind.

"Hey what's taking so long?" You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel—water droplets streaming off your naked body, forming a small puddle on the hardwood floors of your shared bedroom.

He close his fist around the small device when he stood, holding the clothes you were waiting for. Logan watched you smile, reach for his hand, and stop short as his other palm opened—revealing the black little toy you only kept for emergencies.

For nights when he was called on a mission that might land them in deep waters for days on end. You never minded—it was part of the job after all—but telling Logan that you fucked yourself in your spare time to ease the thoughts of him that plagues you...wasn't an easy conversation to have. Yet there it was. Staring directly at you; taunting you with the knowledge that he found it before you could locate a better hiding spot.

"Got somethin' to tell me bub?"

Your mouth dried at the sight of his grin—nostrils flaring as your scent sharpened in the air. Thicker than before; the tell tale sign that you weren't angry or irritated. But interested in where he might take this.

Before you could snatch it from his hands, he tossed the clothes back into the still open drawer. His smile on deepening at the sight of your swallow—the steady thrum of your heart now a quick flutter under your chest. There was no hiding how you felt with him. Not when he was so in tune with your body it nearly scared you.

He could smell the pool of slick that began to form in between your clenched thighs. The sharp breath you sucked in giving him enough confirmation to keep going. You wanted this—him. And though he could never understand why, he rarely questioned it.

So he nodded towards the bed, dragging the chair you kept at your desk over to sit a foot away from where you were perched. Your hand still clutching the towel and eyes stuck on the vibrator in his hold.

Logan lowered himself with a sigh—legs spread and body relaxed as your eyes trailed down his stomach to the thick expanse of his thighs. Last night you were perched on one, reduced to a whiny moaning mess as he dragged you along the rough denim. Watching you work yourself into a high that left you immobile.

His head tilted, gaze dragging down your body, tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip. "You aren't gonna need the towel bub," he rasped.

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Don't you trust me?" You nodded quicker than you expected. "Then drop it and spread those pretty legs for your old man."

A soft whimper barely legible above your gasp echoed in the room. Logan heard it as if you pressed it directly to his ear. You scooted back on the bed, the towel now forgotten and dropped to the floor. He shifted at the sight of your feet pushed against the soft comforter, your cunt on full display for him to view.

"There we go," he murmured.

Your hand slipped down, sliding through your slick for barely a second before he was clicking his tongue. "That's not what I want."

"B-but you said-"

"I said spread 'em. Not touch your pretty little clit."

"Logan," you breathed, fighting the pull that demanded you find some sort of relief. Even if that came in the form of your own touch.

He merely lounged in the chair, smiling at how you battled with yourself in order to be good for him. Oh how he loved the sight of your brows pulled together—need eating away at the very core of your body. If he was a better man he'd let you choose what to do.

He'd follow your lead.

But that remained something he never excelled at.

"Don't worry. She'll get the attention she needs." He leaned over you, placing the familiar device between your breasts—a kiss quickly snuck against your nipple that peaked under the wet heat of his mouth. "I'm real interested in how you use this sweetheart. Show me?"

The breath escaped you with a punch to your stomach as he settled back in his previous spot. You glanced at him—heat spilling beneath your cheeks—and felt a wave of slick drip down to the bed at the sight of him pulling a cigar free. He cut the end off, stuck it between his teeth, and flicked the lighter on with practiced ease.

This was a show and he remained the only audience member.

"Go on," he mumbled, smoke unfurling past his lips. "Be a good girl."

With a shaky breath, you gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned it on. This was second nature to you now. Laying in bed with your legs spread as you listened to the buzzing sound that would bring you your desired orgasm. You'd been here before. You would no doubt be here again.

Only this time Logan paid attention to every minuscule movement. He clung to the way you slid your hand down and pressed the end of it to the very top of your clit. Almost as if you were the best fucking program he had the privilege to watch.

Instead of the rush of sweaty embarrassment you almost expected. You were greeted with a boost of pride at the sound of his harsh groan. The chair creaking under his weight as he shuffled to find some relief for his growing cock.

"How's it feel bub?" he breathed, inhaling another drag from his cigar.

You sighed, high pitched and needy. "Good."

"Yeah?" He shifted again when you slid the vibrator through the lips of your cunt, a moan spilling past your parted lips. "Fuck. You normally take your time with it?"

Nodding, you dragged it back up to your clit, teasing yourself with small circles. "F-Feels better like this."

That familiar tug in your gut began to grow the longer you held it against yourself, building quicker than before. You knew it was on account of him watching you. Licking his lips and white knuckling his cigar to keep from sliding his tongue through your slick. You had half a mind to beg him. To see if you could get him to break.

The minute you slipped it down further and plunged it into your tight walls was enough for him. He snapped with a feral grunt. His hands working the belt buckle of his jeans—a whisper of his zipper being tugged down—before his cock sprang free. The tip red and shiny with precum.

You moaned at the sight, legs trembling as you pumped the vibrator clumsily into your cunt. "Touch yourself," you gasped, stomach going taut. "Please. Need to see you baby."

"Fuck sweetheart. Gonna make me cum like a fuckin' teenager." He spit loudly into his palm, slicking up his cock with a heady moan.

"P-Pretty," you slurred.

"Look whose talkin'," he huffed. The cigar now clamped between his teeth.

The intensity of his gaze only grew when you replaced the device with two of your fingers. Rapidly working them in tandem with the buzzing on your swollen clit. Sparks shot down your spine, heat clamping tight around your stomach. What time you thought remained now worked its way to an eviscerating crescendo.

"Your creamin' around your fingers bub," he grunted, the wet slap of his hand blending with the echo of your cunt. "Want to lick you clean after this."

Your walls fluttered, heart leaping to your throat. "Can I suck your cock?"

A ragged moan filled the empty spaces that lay between. "Can't say no to you."

"Logan," you mewled. "'M gonna-"

He snarled, abruptly sitting forward, hand still working his cock in rapid strokes. "C'mon. Cum for me. Give me a show."

The string holding you together broke in two, flooding your body with bliss and turning your vision blurry. His name was a broken cry torn from your throat—hips canting up into your touch as you pushed the vibrator harder against your clit. Until the pleasure began to seep into pain. A whimper echoed in the room when you pulled away, legs falling to dangle off the bed—body now entirely spent.

The soft press of his lips against your knee jolted you slightly; the nerves under your skin still sensitive. He dropped to the floor, eyes latched onto the way your entrance fluttered, cum now forming a mess between your thighs.

"Made such a pretty mess for me bub."

You sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "You like it?"

Wet open mouth kisses trailed along your inner thigh, his nose pressed to the curls above your center. "I fuckin' love it," he sighed, inhaling your heady scent with a groan.

"It's yours."

You gasped when his tongue slid along your cunt, thumbs spreading you to reach every fucking inch. "Yes it is." He pressed a kiss to each lip, sucking them into his mouth as if he was kissing you. "All fuckin' mine."

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months ago

Text

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away.

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk.

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in.

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on.

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away.

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway.

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure.

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit.

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove.

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders.

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice.

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with.

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become.

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home.

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized.

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last.

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life.

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down.

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore.

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears.

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee.

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat.

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else.

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger.

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes.

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans.

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone.

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing.

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore.

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time.

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it.

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions.

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun.

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes.

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line.

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say?

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye.

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well.

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs.

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup.

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove.

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve.

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk.

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists.

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor.

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions.

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.”

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life.

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you.

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.”

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life.

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town.

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet.

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark.

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest.

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?”

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.”

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.”

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.”

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window.

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it.

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans.

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his.

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.”

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper.

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument.

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together.

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together.

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer.

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.”

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat.

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans.

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning.

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone.

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you.

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname.

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself.

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths.

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.”

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap.

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.”

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near.

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.”

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face.

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand.

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself.

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.”

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine.

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body.

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door.

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus.

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself.

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #friends to lovers #steve rogers au #childhood best friend steve rogers #childhood best friend #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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vanesycho · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober day 15 [car sex]

|masterlist|

warning:smut, p in v, unprotected sex, riding

wc:1,1k

You watched Joshua as he finished his performance and came backstage. When the other members came in, you congratulated them all one by one, but your mind was still on your boyfriend. Normally, you had the chance to see his stage so closely many times, but today was different, more than usual...hot? His mood change during the performance, his serious facial expression, the way he licked his lips...It made you shiver.

As soon as Joshua noticed you backstage, a smile appeared on his face, he approached you and pulled you by the waist and hugged you tightly. "Was I good?" he whispered in your ear, you smiled, when you pulled back, you whispered the same against his lips "You were better than good...God, I had a hard time not jumping on the stage." he let out a chuckle, approached you and kissed you on the lips "I'm glad you liked it, my love." he held your waist tightly and squeezed it lightly and soon left the room to change.

Now you were in the car to go back home, he hadn’t missed the fact that you occasionally glanced at him and examined his side profile, he held himself back from laughing “I can’t focus on the road if you look at me like that, babe.” You turned to the front with embarrassment, you had unknowingly examined him too much but you couldn’t help it. The images of the scene that had come to your mind were constantly replaying. Joshua glanced at you briefly and then turned back to the road “What are you thinking? Tell me." He stopped at a red light, turned his full attention to you, he realized that you were avoiding answering, put his hand on your leg, you swallowed when his thumb started to caress your skin “Yeah?” Knowing that there was nowhere to run, you just gave in “I was just…I was thinking about how good you looked on stage. I mean, I already know you looked good but- today..You were so hot.” Joshua threw his head back and laughed. He didn’t know he had this effect on you but he honestly liked knowing it, he leaned in close and placed a small kiss on your neck “I like knowing you see me like this.” His deep voice made you shiver, he pulled back as if nothing had happened and continued on his way with the green light on. A slight smile appeared on Joshua’s face as he continued on his way, turning the car into a deserted alleyway, you frowned upon noticing this. “Are we taking a different route?” Joshua pulled over without answering and turned off the lights. Only the moonlight illuminated the interior of the car in the backstreet where not even the streetlights worked properly. He turned to you, gently placed his hand on your cheek, his other hand went back to your leg and squeezed it lightly. “If you look this affected after every performance..” he whispered, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips, he let out a breath, leaning in closer but not kissing you yet, just letting your lips brush against each other. “...We should have some fun off stage to celebrate this, right? Don’t you think your boyfriend is doing a good job? I think you should reward him.” Even before his lips had made contact with yours, he was driving you crazy, his thumb caressed your cheek, the slight smile on his face didn’t leave. “What kind of reward?” he hummed, pretending to think for a moment, then pulled back and unlocked the car door. “Get in the backseat.”

That was all he said and soon you found yourself in his lap in the backseat. Joshua leaned his head back and watched you while you continued to rub yourself against him. You moaned as his swollen cock made contact with your pussy, he tightened his grip on your waist "Shua.. Please, I want you.." you spoke needily, Joshua leaned closer and started to kiss your neck "I know darling, don't worry I'll make you feel good." You felt his cock inside you in no time, a loud moan filled the car. Your hips slowly moved down, trying to take it all in "Too m-much.." He grabbed your hips and made you sit on top of him, kissed your lips to quiet your voice, his tongue roaming around in your mouth as he waited for you to get used to it. He pulled back with a loud kiss "Are you okay?" he whispered against your lips, you nodded "Good. Now I need you to move those beautiful hips of yours darling."

You did as he said, your hips started to move on his hard cock, Joshua threw his head back in pleasure, his mouth taking in slightly spaced breaths, your pussy clenching around him and he loved the feeling so much, "You're so good baby- oh fuck you're gonna make me come early." You held onto his shoulders tightly, his hand not hesitating to roam all over your body. He looked at you, brushed your hair behind your ear and exposed your face, even though he couldn't see much in the dark, he knew exactly how good you looked riding him and that was a sight for him to see. His hand slowly moved from your neck to your breast, squeezing it gently, lingering on your nipples for a while. He pulled you by the waist and made you come closer to him. You felt his tongue on your nipple, he ran the tip of his tongue around it, sucking on your breast while his other hand worked on your other breast. He lightly bit your erect nipple, smiling when he heard your tiny whimper.

Your hip movements started to speed up after a while, Joshua's occasional whimpers and the sounds of your bodies merging drove you even wilder. You let out a whimpering sound as his cock hits your pleasure point, his hands returning to your hips and supporting you. He helped you move on him easily. The pleasure grew inside you, Joshua knew he was close too, your pussy clenching around him making him moan deeply. He smiled to himself and threw his head back again. “Ah- you always feel so good- and tight..I- fuck, I’m so close.” He swallowed hard, watching his twitching Adam’s apple, making you wet your lips. You couldn’t hold back any longer as each stroke brought new pleasure, you came in no time, your juices flowing down his cock, you pulled back and soon Joshua’s juices were flowing down his belly. He looked at you tiredly and let you rest on his chest before moving on. He kissed the top of your head. “I think you should reward me like this after every concert.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen hard thoughts #seventeen hard hours #svt hard thoughts #svt hard hours #joshua imagines #joshua smut #joshua hong #joshua hong smut #joshua hong imagines #svt scenarios #joshua scenarios #joshua x reader #seventeen joshua

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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100,000 dollars is not a lot of money.

it is also a lot more money than i will ever have. my student loans make up half of that - they're coming back, i'm told, like we all bounced back recently. the other day while paying for gas to go to work, i overdrew my account without knowing it.

i sat in the car and looked at the charge and tried to do the math. where the fuck is the money even going? i don't live extravagantly. i live in a hole in the ground, in an apartment the size of a sneeze; covered in ants. yes, i wanted to live close to a population center. maybe that's my fault. i've downloaded the apps and i've spoken to the experts and i've cut back on excess. i can't help the pharmacy bills or the medical debt.

i have a good, well-paying job. when i googled it to see if i was getting a fair salary, i found out i'd be making "upper middle class" money. which doesn't make sense - is "upper middle class" now just "able to afford a one-bedroom without a roommate". when i was younger, upper-middle meant a nice big house and a backyard and vacations and not flinching about eating at a resturant.

i was talking to my friend who is a realtor. he said 100,000 dollars is extremely cheap for housing. he's not wrong. 100,000 dollars would change my life. 100,000 dollars also won't really buy you anything. it could get you out of debt, potentially, if you were lucky and had a certain amount of scholarships to tack onto your degree. you could pay off the car and then have enough left over for "spending" money. how fucking amazing. one vacation, maybe two if you're thrifty. and then - like magic - the money would evaporate into nothing. people would sigh and tell you see, you should have put it into savings! like "upper middle class" people can't afford to value "actually living" over squirrelling wealth. you should spend your life only in scarcity. like that is what made the rich people all their real "actually a lot of money".

100,000 dollars would literally set me free. it also would just set me back to "earning normally" instead of paying down debt into infinity. god, do you know how many of us just want that? that our first thought is we could stop scrambling and just be free of debt if we won the lottery? that we don't even necessarily need to stop working - we just wouldn't have to worry about failing or falling?

and. at the same time. 100,000 dollars is next to fucking nothing.

#writeblr #me paying my taxes this year:#haha good to know im literally doing more for my community out of my tiny apartment #than most corporations will do in their entire scope! :) these motherfuckers will NEVER pay taxes!!!#bc they lobby others to be sure we CHOKE :) !!!#i hope this is clear like. this isn't someone being like ''haha if i got 100k it wouldn't be a big deal''#it's more like. the gap between corporations and the ppl WORKING in those corporations #has become HORRIFIC. 100k to the company i work for is like. pocket change to them.#and it is LIFE CHANGING for me.#they could cut me a check for 100k tomorrow and not even budge their margin of error

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tan1shere · 21 days ago

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Heyyyyyyy could YOU please PLEASE do one where Billie tells the reader how to touch herself, while Billie is on tour?!!?

Call Me

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: coming righttttt up, hope you like it 😊

Warnings: smut, phone sex ?? Masterbating - think thats it !

Masterlist

It was lonely here all alone. Finding little jobs and activities to do to fill in time. Whenever you weren't working, yourself. Your girlfriend, Billie was currently on her HMHAS tour. And you haven't seen her in days. Truth be told you missed her like crazy. Her presence. Her voice. Her touch..

Which led to the next feeling you missed. Ovulation was no joke. And you were currently facing the feral-ness of it. Even more so that she isn't here. You had been frustrated all day. And you only now realize why. You needed to touch yourself, you had to relieve this pent up tension. So as the night comes along you get into your warm, comfortable bed. Checking the time. Billie usually calls around this time.

You figure shes sleeping, she had been extra tired lately. You go to slide your hand down into your shorts, about to touch yourself. When you do, but stopping. Things aren't the same. You wanted her touch. You try to continue but nothing was feeling good right now. That caused more frustration to bubble inside you. Deciding to just sleep it away. And hope tomorrow was normal.

Next day rolls around and you still have the same feeling. Frustration and horniness. Not a great combination, the day felt longer because of it. It was a bit earlier when you got home, but thankfully Billie didn't have a show today. So she was hopefully going to answer when you call. You couldn't take it anymore you needed her help. And you needed it desperately.

You go to lay on the bed, grabbing your phone and dialing her number. She answers in seconds, causing you to grow nervous. In all the years of being with her, phone sex was the one thing you've yet to do. So ofcourse you were nervous. Would she even help you, would this be odd? "Hi baby." You hear her say, cheerfully. You smile to yourself. "Hello!" You try your hardest to not jump into things, going to try give her some hints.

"How was your day?" She then asks. You sigh, ever so lightly. "A little frustrating, good to be home though. How about yours?" - "Mine was pretty boring I've just been preparing for tomorrow's show and chilling. Why was yours frustrating my love?" You think for a moment. "Just some work and other little things, some of which I just can't fix by myself.." - "I'm sorry, anything I can do to help at all?" Yes. Phone fuck me. Was all you wanted to say but you had to play things cool. Even if your body was heating up at the thought of this happening.

"Not that I can think of, just wanted to hear your voice I missed you." She smiles to herself. "I miss you too babe." There was a small pause, you were contemplating on how you'd do this. When a small idea pops into your head. You missed her voice so much, and it sounds like you had just woke her up from a nap. Her voice was slightly raspy, a bit of her tiredness peeking through.

"Did anything else happen today?" You then ask, getting comfortable on the bed. Moving your hands just above the waistband of your underwear. You had decided to get straight into your sleepwear, just a loose night gown. Wanting to feel good as all you've been wearing lately are big t-shirts to bed. You wanted to feel hot, make this moment more sensual. "Not too much if im honest, just got my outfit for tomorrow, did some other things. Just boring stuff really." You hum in reply, moving your hand in your underwear as she speaks.

Was this wrong? It felt a little like that. Your face heats up what're you even doing. But you get pulled from your thoughts when you hear your name. "Hello? Y/n, baby. You still there?" The name made you bite your lip. "Y-yeah sorry." She chuckles. "You didn't answer my question love." "Oh, oops. What was it?" She smiles to herself again, finding you cute. Except what you were doing was far from cute and downright filthy. "I asked you how shark had been, he's behaving right?" Your hand moves lower, trying to stay focused on the conversation and her voice. "Y-yeah he's been good." You let out a quiet sigh but she hears it. "Everything ok?"

You get nervous again, how were you even going to manage this. "I'm fine.." You needed her to keep talking, and thankfully she does. "Ok, Im sure if it's anything youre just tired. I was going to talk to you about when I get back, we have a dinner with Finn on the Friday. Just thought I'd remind you incase you forgot." Your finger had been in you, slowly moving the whole time she was talking. And when you don't reply she gets more confused. "Baby, what're you doing you seem distracted." You holt your movements, trying to think of an excuse but why? You wanted to call her and ask.

Ask her to talk to you, help you. So why were you so damn nervous. "Talk to me baby." God sake her voice was so hot even when she wasn't intentionally trying. You bite your lip again trying to stop any noise that was about to escape. Mustering up some sort of strength to reply. "I'm f-fine." Was all you managed to respond with. Billie sits there in thought, when she hears another sigh. Was she catching on? She needed to be sure. "I miss you, so. So much." She was playing with fire. You don't respond again, having your eyes shut as you try to give yourself pleasure.

When it's not working you let out another sigh followed by a tiny whine. She hears that loud and clear, smirking to herself. She knew good and well what you were doing. "Can't wait to see you in a few days, get to kiss you. Hold you. Touch.. you." She chose her words evily. But she didn't stop there. A breath was to be heard. Followed by a frustrated sigh. "Let me help, baby. You sound annoyed." Another small whine left you, at the fact she was right and just overall the way she was speaking to you.

Your brows knit together, giving in and letting her. She knows now, there's no point in staying silent. "It's no good, I miss you. Your hands." She coos. "I know baby, I know. I'm just so good at touching my girl huh?" Your head rests back. "So good." You breath into the speaker. "Your fingers still inside?" You reply with a hum. "Move em." So you do just that, slowly at first. "Move your thumb, touch your clit for me." You do that, touching it then moving your thumb in a circle motion.

Everything was so still and quiet she could hear your wetness and God it was driving her nuts, she wanted to be there. To see it, to feel it. "That's it." She says encouragingly, hearing your noises as you speed up on both tactics. She could just imagine it, you touching yourself just to her speaking. "Was baby doing this the whole time I was talking?" She then says. Your cheeks grow red with heat. "I- uhm." She lets out an evil chuckle, sending tingles straight to your pussy. It was such a hot chuckle. But then again, anything she did right now was 10x hotter. "You're such a filthy girl huh?" You bite your lip yet again.

Feeling more pleasure than you had been. "Please keep talking please." You begged. Voice so needy. "Plunge deeper for me, know you can. Imagine my fingers. How deep they go. Imagine your thumb is my tongue as I swirl it around your throbbing clit." Your back arches at the thought, you needed it more than anything. "Need you so bad." A louder moan was to be heard. The fact this woman is just talking to you and you almost coat the sheets in your nectar. She felt all the power in this moment. "Go faster for me - that's a good girl." She finishes as she hears the squelching increase. Your breaths and moans mingle into one as you get closer.

"Mmm, fuck I'm so so close. Please." She laughs yet again. "So cute, still asking to cum even when I'm miles away. So incredibly good, aren't you?" Your head lulls back into the pillows again, feeling the knot almost snap. "Fuck, Billie." - "Faster baby, rub your clit. Wanna hear you squirt." Just those words alone send both of those sensations out of you, having you leak and squirt all at once. Your breath being uneven as your eyes roll back. "Good, girl. That's what I like to hear."

#billie eilish #billie elish icons #billie ellish lyrics #billie #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish fanfiction #billie elish moodboard #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n

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sylusjinwoon · 7 months ago

Text

{ 167 }

peaches.

husband!jinwoo sung x wife!fem.reader

{ i get the feeling, so i'm sure | hand in my hand because i'm yours | i can't, i can't pretend, i can't ignore you're right for me | don't think you wanna know just where i’ve been, oh… }

when you first married your husband all those years ago, you didn’t think that your life would turn into something extraordinary-

almost too extraordinary.

of course, jinwoo sung had always been the sweetest, most kindest man alive. upon meeting you in college, he had stolen your heart with that mysterious smile and strange, glowing eyes of his. the way his soft ebony locks of hair fell across his features along with the way his full lips was turned up in a sheepish grin was enough to steal your heart instantly.

when the man began courting you was when you realized that your lover could do things that many normal people couldn’t do.

for starters, he had a strange, dark aura that constantly surrounded him. those wispy shadows would catch your attention, and before your gaze could follow them for too long, jinwoo would grab your chin and distract you with a kiss-

(which unfortunately for you, worked every time.)

the more you spent your time with him, the more you began to realize that those same wisps that exuded from his form would ultimately surround you as well. you recall the first night you had seen them after working a late shift at the diner that was your job during that time. once you had clocked out and stepped into the cold, night air, you swore you saw something shift within your shadow. curious as to what it was, you step closer to one of the streetlights, hoping that it would further accentuate your shadow-

only to nearly scream when you saw what looked like five pairs of glowing, purple eyes looking back at you. after the realization, you gasped and took a step back, suddenly finding yourself in someone’s arms, jinwoo’s happy voice whispering within your ear.

“hello, my beloved treasure. are you ready to go home?”

your head was spinning, looking at him, then back at your shadow to see it return back to its slender shape, glowing eyes all gone as your head began to spin. swallowing thickly, you turn around to hide your face within his chest.

“hm, what’s wrong, sarang?”

“it’s nothing.”

maybe you were just tired, that’s all. you didn’t want to worry jinwoo and tell him how you saw glowing, purple eyes staring back at you.

perhaps you should take his advice and stop working such late shifts after all?

instead, you ignored those feelings of suspicion, simply cuddling closer to jinwoo as he walked back with you to your shared apartment (completely missing his sigh of relief when you didn’t bring up his soldiers seen in your shadow.)

you didn’t know why you ignored all the strangeness surrounding your beloved boyfriend, but perhaps it was due to the fact that he was such a walking green flag that you truly didn’t care nor mind.

ultimately, he was the best thing that ever happened to you, and who were you to give him up so easily?

after years spent dating, jinwoo finally proposes to you at the ripe age of 27, with you accepting his proposal within seconds. you recall basking in his sweet kisses before proceeding to make love with him the night of his proposal, further cementing your promises of forever with him.

after your marriage, you didn’t think of such weirdness ever again… choosing to simply ignore the shadowy wisps as you correctly guessed that they were meant to protect you-

however, it all reached a boiling point when your son, suho, reached his first birthday and began floating across the dining room table. your eyes go wide, seeing him glowing as the shadowy wisps surrounded your baby boy. he had gotten upset when you didn’t let him eat his birthday cake. one moment you were telling suho to wait for his papa, and the next he was floating above you with pieces of his cake clutched tightly within his tiny grasps.

jinwoo told you he had some work to do at the station, but you were too panicked to wait for him to come home tonight. in your anxious state, you called him right away, feeling grateful that he answers on the second ring.

“hello love-“

“jinwoo…! suho is… he’s floating and the shadows are trying to help him down… but he’s not coming down!”

you follow your child in hopes of catching him if he ever decided to come down, hearing jinwoo shift around a bit on the other line.

“don’t worry, sarang… i told you that i know how to fly, too, right?” amusement was heard in his voice, and you felt a sense of pure annoyance flooding your veins.

“you most certainly have not told me such things! and i expect a full explanation when you come home!”

“wait, my love-“

“and i mean everything, jinwoo sung!”

you hang up the call quickly, watching as suho took a nose dive back into your arms. filled with a sense of relief, you felt your son smear his cake all over your blouse and take a step back-

only to detect the faint scent of your husband’s cologne as his powerful arms were felt wrapped around you.

“how do you manage to do that?” you hiss at him, eyes weakly glaring at him when he holds you even tighter to his chest. again, he had appeared when you needed him the most.

“later, my love… i’ll tell you later… first, let’s celebrate our suho’s precious birthday.”

“bah!!!” suho’s eager cries for his father makes your heart melt, easing your anger just the tiniest bit. you pout while transferring suho into jinwoo’s arms, snickering when your son manages to smear even more bits of frosting and cake against his turtleneck sweater.

the next few hours were spent with you finishing up dinner and celebrating suho’s first birthday with his lopsided cake. never wishing to remain too far away from you or suho, jinwoo settles your form on his lap while you held on to suho, cleaning the crumbs of his cake off of his mouth as your husband cuddled close to you and your son.

when nightfall came and jinwoo helped put suho to bed in his crib, you stayed close by with your arms crossed over your chest. when he shuts suho’s door, his solemn, grey eyes meet with your gaze. you gesture at him to follow you out into the balcony, and he does so while wrapping a hand around your waist.

you slide open the glass door and close it, speaking in hushed tones so as to not disturb your neighbors. “i turned a blind eye to many things when it comes to you jinwoo… solely because i love you so damn much.”

he hums, holding you tightly in his embrace while momentarily looking at the skies.

“from shadows that seem to surround me to your strange glowing eyes-“

“we have a history together, my love.” jinwoo interrupts you, not looking away from the sky.

his words make you look up at him. “obviously, we do. we’ve been together since the start of college.”

“no… before that. way before that.”

taking advantage of his strength, he turns you around so that you were now facing him. his eyes glow that same, startling hue as his hands gripped at your shoulders tightly. “if you wish to know the truth, the whole truth, then say the word. i’m no longer the coward i once was… i’m certain i can keep you by my side regardless of what happens.”

you let out a shaky breath before giving him a nod as your final answer.

he brings you closer to him now, surrounding you within his powerful embrace as he kisses you fully on the lips. the shadows dance around you once more, as you saw a faint glow surrounding your form from beneath your closed eyelids-

and that single action alone was enough to pull the curtain away from your very memories.

there were gates and hunters… monarchs and monsters that threatened to destroy all of humanity…

and there was you and jinwoo…

a hunter with his healer…

all at once, you felt your vivid memories returning back to you, the onslaught of visions being too much to bear that you had a hard time discerning all of them. you end up falling against jinwoo, his arms being wrapped around you in a comforting manner as he prevented you from slumping against the ground.

your head was pounding, yet despite the pain, you manage to look up at him, seeing jinwoo with his eyes clenched shut as tears streamed down his face.

“i’ve been so alone- i’ve kept this burden of mine a secret for so long, and this may be selfish of me, but- i’m truly so happy that you know.”

you shake your head and push through the pain, leaning up to kiss him deeply as he delves his fingers into your hair. as the full moon shone brightly against your entangled forms, you knew that jinwoo had always been your soulmate from the start.

as you spend the following years in marital bliss, you gave suho a little sister named sera, a precious little girl who held both yours and jinwoo’s features while having your eyes. even at such a young age, suho swore to protect his little sister while allowing jinwoo’s shadow soldiers to surround both of them.

yet there was a growing concern between you and jinwoo when it came to your children. after all, jinwoo wanted both suho and sera to live a relatively normal and peaceful life, forcing him to lock away their memories pertaining to the powerful nature of their father (a power that they were sure to inherit someday.)

after jinwoo had erased your children’s memories, you spent the night in your children’s room comforting them, with beru crying while clutching on tightly to suho’s drawing depicting beru holding hands with both him and sera. as the former ant king leaves the room, you whisper to jinwoo.

“will you leave them in the dark forever?”

he shakes his head, bringing you into his embrace while pressing a kiss against your hair. “no, not forever. they’re both still too young… and i’d like to give the fruits of our love some happiness… after all, being children of the shadow monarch is no easy burden to bear…”

you hum in agreement, moving your head so that you could meet his lips in a searing kiss. regardless of what the future would bring, you swore to always remain by jinwoo’s side, all while protecting and raising your children…

“mom, if you keep cutting the cucumbers too much, it’ll be like baby food.”

you snap out of your reveries just then, looking down to see a 10-year old sera looking up at you with an innocent expression. you giggle and pick up the slender girl, allowing her to sit on the counter as you placed the cut cucumbers into a bowl for tonight’s kimchi.

“thank you for helping your mama.” you smile and brush your lips against your daughter’s forehead, earning a giggle from her.

“mama, where’s oppa…? it’s getting late.”

you purse your lips, looking up at the clock to see that it was 6:45pm… sera was right. usually suho would come home from school at around 3pm with your husband joining later around 8 to 9pm.

“my queen, do not fret, for your husband and young monarch are here…” tusk whispers in your ear, making your eyes widen in response.

as if on cue, the door was heard opening, with jinwoo carrying an unconscious suho in his arms.

“oppa!” sera calls out to her brother, jumping off the counter to meet with her father, “papa, is he okay? is oppa hurt?!”

jinwoo chuckles, ruffling his daughter’s hair with a fondness. “your oppa is fine, he just has a little headache. how about you keep him company until he feels better?”

sera gives him a determined nod, following jinwoo into suho’s room when you decide to put all of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner back into the fridge.

after all, jinwoo had a lot of explaining to do.

while waiting for jinwoo’s return, you poured him an ice cold glass of lemonade, filling it to the brim and offering it to him when you felt his arms suddenly encircle around your waist a couple of minutes later.

“thanks, honey…”

you face him, watching him drain the entire glass within seconds.

“where’s sera?”

“staying by her brother’s side until he wakes up. i told her to keep a close watch on him, he should feel better when dinner’s ready.”

you nod and lean against the kitchen sink. “and… just what did you do?”

you take a moment to admire him, feeling a sense of womanly pride filling you at the fact that he was your husband. despite how it was clear that jinwoo had aged, with slight wrinkles against the corner of his eyes and corner of his lips, he still looked as handsome as the day you first met him-

perhaps even handsomer than before.

settling the empty glass to the side, he wraps his arms around your back. “i was testing him, to see if he was ready to fully inherit my abilities. i even made a system for him to help level up as well.”

you hum and sway back and forth in his arms. “and…?”

jinwoo scoffs, “he is far from ready… filled with overconfidence and a cockiness that’s seen in all teenagers his age. suho has been too spoiled, never once facing the dangers or the fear of death… and such inexperience could lead to his downfall.”

your husband’s words manage to earn a laugh from you. “weren’t you just as cocky back then, too?”

jinwoo rolls his eyes, playfully taking your hand before gently biting down against your fingertip. “there’s a difference between fighting to protect what matters and when to stop when victory cannot be achieved. suho has yet to learn that."

he sighs when he sees the concerned look in your eyes, bringing you closer to him as he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead. “i just want him to be able to protect himself and sera if anything were to happen to us… and at the moment, he’s not ready to receive the full gift of my powers just yet.”

you let out a hum and rest your head against his chest. “our babies are growing up so fast… it’s crazy how far our family has come. i trust you and your judgement, jinwoo. because regardless… i’m so happy that i was able to be the mother of your children.”

“and you have no idea how happy i am to be the father of your children.”

after spending a few extra moments sharing kisses, jinwoo smiles down at you while framing at your face with his two hands.

“how about we order some fried chicken with all of our children’s favorite side dishes… as a treat and an apology for scaring our son?”

you giggle and roll your eyes at your husband and his playful smile, feeling your heart become alight with pure love for him-

praying that such bliss with him and your precious kids will last for forever and a day…

{ done being distracted | the one i need is right in my arms | your kisses taste the sweetest with mine | and i’ll be right here with you 'til end of time. }

a.n. - i was so desperate to write for hubby!jinwoo, and i’m so happy at how this turned out 🥹 i apologize for any errors, since i wish to get this posted asap!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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autumnywinter · 7 months ago

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Your Yan!Elliott posts are endlessly fascinating to me. I propose an idea for you if you are up for it: Yan!Elliott finally has his prize all to himself, only to learn he's simply done the job for them. He's not the only obsessed one. He's not got his prize caged up. No no. He's caged with them. Wasn't it always rather odd that his target of infatuation quickly learned everything about him, his schedules, his interests, his favorite foods? Did he ever even notice? (Based a little on the fact that--let's be real--we players are the weird ones)

Omg thank you! :) And true, I would 100% be considered the creep if my farmer's behavior imitated my own irl behavior haha T_T

I made Reader a lot more smug than I normally do. I hope this is good!!

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags/warnings: Suggestive, drugging, mentioned stalking, dubcon (kinda but not really), yandere x yandere, gender neutral reader

Sometimes Elliott felt like he didn't even need to stalk you around the town. He'd walk out of his cabin, camera, binoculars, and caffeine gathered for a stakeout, only for you to be waiting outside with a smile on your face. That same smile that made him feel like he was soaring.

Not only that, but you knew just what he liked. Granted, he'd like anything if it were from you, but he had a whole year's supply worth of pomegranates and ink stocked up in his cabin.

He didn't even want to put either to use, treasuring each item you gave him like a rare gem. He did eventually crack and eat the pomegranates though. He was only human, after all!

There was no doubting it. You were perfect.

Each time he'd write lengthy letters to you, all from your "secret admirer", he'd watch your expressions. You always looked delighted to have received a letter. Though you never once attempted to find out who was sending you them. Elliott wondered if maybe you already knew, but never wanted to get his hopes up.

He made sure to describe how stunning you were in every letter he wrote. It was important for you to know how perfect you were. So perfect, that you didn't deserve to be around anyone else. No one would ever love you as much as Elliott did.

Despite the countless gifts he had received from you, despite you seeming to know his schedule down to a T, he was still determined he needed to win your affection over. All because he needed more.

He needed to hold you. He needed to taste you. He needed to marry you. He needed you.

"Hey, Elliott!"

The writer turned opened his door, delighted to see you. It was a rainy day, which was when he always stayed inside, save for stalking you at specific hours. You'd usually visit him on rainy days, and naturally he'd always be quick to invite you in. He knew you were likely coming over, which was why he already had a nice dinner prepared and everything.

"Come in, please," he said, holding the door open. You hurried inside and removed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the coat rack. Elliott headed straight for the kitchen, where he dished out the dinner he had prepared, along with the spiked wine.

He didn't have any awful intentions, of course! He just... wanted you to himself for a little longer than you normally stayed. That wasn't so wrong, was it? He wanted to savor this.

Besides, it wasn't like it was the first time he had done this.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting down at the table across from you. He waited eagerly for you to take a sip of the wine.

"I'm okay," you replied, giving him a smile that made his heart melt. "Just exhausted. I spent all day working."

He knew. He watched you.

"Then let me give you a nice relaxing time," he suggested, making sure to sound polite as he could. "Drink some more wine. Tell me all about your day." He didn't even realize his lovesick smile listening to you talk. He was excited for you to become sleepy and less aware of your surroundings. Then he could hold you and kiss you and you wouldn't even remember a thing the next morning.

It was honestly the only thing keeping him from going insane. He could be creepy as he wanted with you and you wouldn't even care. Although he'd use the term "romantic" instead.

After he nearly finished his own drink, he noticed his mind becoming hazy. He was a bit of a lightweight, he'd admit, but it took more than one glass to get him feeling like this. He tried to blink the dizziness from his own eyes, and could make out your eyes on him and a smirk on your face.

"Oh no, are you okay? You don't look so good," you feigned innocence. Even through his hazy state, Elliott could hear the smug grin in your voice.

"D-Did... did you...? Are you...?" He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Yep," you confirmed. "You've done it to me several times now, figured I'd return the favor. It's only fair, right?"

He should have been angry or upset about this, but he wasn't. Instead, his cheeks turned bright red as he stared at you in a dumbfounded awe. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it definitely wasn't anger. Arousal, anticipation, delight... maybe a mixture of all three.

"To be fair," you continued, "I never was really drugged. Just pretended to be, because I wanted to see what you would do." His breath hitched when you straddled his lap, holding his tie in your hand. "Just to see how far you'd take things."

"Y-You..." He never thought he'd see the day where his words failed him. But how was he supposed to speak when you were on his lap looking so delectable? He subconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every detail of your body. The way your chest rose and fell, your breaths as heavy as his, your eyes clouded with lust. He could only imagine how much of a fool he looked right now.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Your voice was soft, sweet. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

Elliott paused for a moment before chuckling. He rested his hands on your thighs and massaged them gently. "You know me too well, darling." He placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were spiking my drinks?" You giggled and kissed his ear. "Because you're not subtle at all." You licked a stripe down his neck, enjoying the shivers you felt from him. "And because I want you just as much as you want me."

He placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. "I... I'm very relieved to hear that." He didn't even bother to hide his erection pressing against you. "If I could, I'd tell you just how much I adore you. But..." He trailed off, growing more deadweight. His head fell forward against your chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I love you. I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being. "You'll be fine, love," you whispered. "And I love you, too."

Despite Elliott falling limp into your arms, he refused to loosen his grip on you the entire night. Or the morning to come.

#answered ask #yandere #stardew valley #yandere elliott #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #yandere stardew valley #sdv #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere x yandere #gn reader

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queenie-the-court-jester · 8 months ago

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HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #queenie writes #queenie ocs #ocs #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #Yandere oc x reader #Oc x reader #Oc #Kameron the playboy #yandere headcanons

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mariclerc · 1 month ago

Text

Pretty like a flower | cl16

Summary: where some social media comments open up old insecurities in you.

Warnings: fluff, sad reader, reassuring Charles, social media hate.

Dating Charles is a totally fantastic experience, on one hand you love traveling the world with him and having little memories together, or just spend a quiet day at home away from your jobs. But at the same time, there are bad things, such as the lack of privacy because there are super nosy people who are not the fans, people that think they can take pictures of you every now and then and the fans themselves like to talk too much, especially about you...

The way you met Charles was the sweetest and cutest way of all, you were working at a local flower shop and he came in to get some flowers to take to his mom to decorate her hair salon — a pretty sweet gesture in your opinion, so between some babbling and shy glances at the handsome man, you helped him get the right flowers for his mother. And so the days went by, every week he went to the flower shop to get flowers for his mother and he always asked for help from the shy girl who spent her time making beautiful flower arrangements. You had no idea who he was, partly you did know who he was since Monaco is very small, but you only knew that he was a famous race car driver and that was it.

When you started dating everything was super good, normally you don't upload many things to social media since you like to keep everything private, you only uploaded some of your flower arrangements to your Instagram and other cute little things. Fans started comparing you to their ex-girlfriends, especially Alex since they had a massive break up last year, they said that you posted the same things as her on Instagram and that you were copying her, or they even said that you were soon going to do like her and become an influencer and that you only wanted him for the fame and money he could give you. And honestly, you don't think that way, you really love Charles with all your heart, he is someone so precious and wonderful to you, and you know that he loves you with all his heart.

Right now you are in your shared apartment alone, reading comments made on a gossip page about a paparazzi photo taken of you and Charles on the beach last weekend, the comments are mixed but there is one constant: all the comments are about how your body looks... Most people say: "aww, she looks so basic, Alex looked way better than her!", "I don't know what Charles saw in her, she's nothing special." "Look at her, she has no butt or boobies, she's just a board!" And the list of comments goes on and on.

“Not this again... Why do they always have to criticize what I wear or how I look? I'm just living my life with the man I love...” you sighed and you walked through the closet, looking at some of your clothes. “My favorite clothes doesn't even fit anymore, they all feel wrong.” you looked with watery eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you're wearing a mismatched lingerie, tugging your little tummy roll and small bust. “I know I'm not a model... But does everything really have to be picked apart?” you say as you look down at your short legs and big thighs with slight hair growth, even the most normal and natural thing in the world seems totally imperfect to you.

You were so focused on your inner monologue that you didn't hear that Charles has opened the door.

“Darling, I'm home! Where are you, mon cœur?” he says calling you out (my heart)

You called back with a shaky voice. “I-I'm in the bedroom...”

He enters the room and sees you crying in your mismatched lingerie, concern washing over his face. “Oh no. What's wrong, my love? Come here, talk to me.” he gathers you gently into his arms.

You sobbed into his chest. “I'm... I'm sorry Charlie, I know I'm being silly but I just feel so insecure about myself lately. All these comments talking about my body, and comparing me with one of your ex's, saying I'm not pretty enough to be with you.” you whispered with trembling voice. “Even my own clothes don't feel right on me anymore... I guess I started wondering if you only settled for me because of my boring looks and body.” you finished, emptying all your thoughts.

Charles held you while he gently caressed your hair, he knew that those comments were going to explode in you at some point, from the beginning you were always honest with him about your insecurities about yourself, something that perhaps was not so present in you before, but now — and thanks to the comments, has resurfaced again.

“Shh, don't say that stuff princess. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, inside and out... Those people don't know us or how much we care for each other, all that matters is how you see yourself, and how I see you.” he wipes one of your tears.

You looked up at him. “But... What do you see in me? I'm not sexy and thin like models or I don't have a perfect tan like your ex... I have small boobs, big and hairy thighs and I have a tummy...” you were going to continue, but he subtly stops you.

“Stop that talk right now. You are beautiful and sexy to me in every way, I love every single inch of your gorgeous body - your mesmerizing eyes, your cute little button nose, your adorable smile. Your tummy? Is where I like to put my hand and stroke its softness when we're sleeping or taking a nap, your boobs are perfect for me, as is every soft curve.” he smiled shyly while blushing. “You're my ideal of beauty and I'm the luckiest man alive because your heart chose me... And I'm so in love with you and all of those little things that make you so unique.”

You sniffle a bit, starting to feel a little bit better. “Really? You truly think I'm beautiful just the way I am?” you asked softly.

“Oh, you're more than beautiful! You're a fiery, intelligent, compassionate queen and I fall deeper in love with you every day. The judgements of strangers mean nothing when I have your love... You are as precious and delicate as a flower, you know, blooming and growing under my touch.” he kisses your forehead and you blushed so much thanks to his words. “So dry those silly tears, mon amour, and let me show you how much you turn me on just by being yourself.” he kisses you tenderly. (my love)

You feel his words washing over you, because he's right, you should feel good in your own body and no matter how much you say you don't look good or whatever, he doesn't care because he loves you whether you've changed your style or not, because he's totally in love with you.

You kiss him back softly while your hands rest gently on his chest. “I love you so much Charlie! Thank you for always making me feel like the most special girl.”

He smiles. “You are very special to me, my darling. Never forget your worth, okay?”

As Charles gazed at you with heartfelt adoration, you suddenly became conscious of your state of dress and you blushed.

“I, um... I'm not exactly matching or covered right now... sorry.” you mumbled shyly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Charles gently took your hands, uncrossing them so he could place tender kisses to your knuckles. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about, mon amour. Please don't feel shy with me.” you bite your lip, still hesitant. Chuckling softly, Charles hooked a finger under your chin to lift your gaze to his. “You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful sight to me... But, since you're so worried right now...”

Reaching behind himself, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You gazed at him, momentarily distracted by his perfectly sculpted bare torso.

Charles winked playfully. “There we go, now we match. Feel better?” His boyish grin made you giggle, easing some of the tension.

“Much.” you whispered softly, poking his ribs. His breathless chuckle sent flutters through your spine.

He looks at your figure with adoration. “Pink is definitely your color, but you know how do you look way better?” he asked and you shake your head. “Wearing nothing at all...” he whispered and you blushed so much at his teasing.

Slowly, your shy insecurities began melting away under his tender and caring gaze.

Charles' hands found your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “You take my breath away every time I look at you, ma chérie. So soft, feminine, sexy and all mine.” (my darling)

Leaning in, he gently nuzzled your neck, trailing light kisses that had you sighing. “Please don't ever think you're not gorgeous, because I ache to worship every single inch of you.”

His husky words and touch ignited a longing deep within you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pressed closer, relinquishing all shyness. Your eyes met, full of smoldering desire and promise of pleasurable distraction ahead.

Your lips met in a searing kiss as strong arms lifted you, carrying you to your shared bed where all that mattered was exploring each other in a sweet and gentle intimacy. Confident in his adoration, nothing could dim your light when you're in his loving embrace.

***

A few days had passed since Charles lovingly boosted your confidence and you were starting to feel more comfortable in your own skin again as you two planned to have a relaxing Saturday at home.

That afternoon, you tidied up around the apartment while clad in just mismatched lingerie and one of Charles' oversized shirts while he was doing some errands and buying some groceries. Lost in your house tasks, you hasn't heard the front door open.

“Darling, I'm ba-” Charles started to call out before stopping short at the sight before him, you froze as well, your face flushing under his admiring gaze. His eyes slowly roamed your figure, heated with desire and appreciation for you. “Oh, mon dieu, you take my breath away, baby.” he uttered softly. (my god)

Striding over, Charles pinned you gently against the counter with his taller form and you gazed up at him shyly through your lashes. “H-Hello...” you say softly.

Charles caressed your cheek smoothly, smiling down at you with heartstopping tenderness.

“Look at you petite fleur, so radiantly beautiful in just this... I feel like the luckiest man alive.” he smiles and leans in, he began feathering kisses along your neck that had you melting. “I knew that wicked outfit served another purpose beyond laundry day.” you giggled. (little flower)

His words, coupled with how reverently his hands roamed your curves, sent desire pooling low. All traces of shyness evaporated under his loving worship.

“How do you do that?” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. “You know... Make me feel like the most special woman alive?”

Charles met your eyes intensely. “Because to me, that is what you are - my queen, my everything. And I will spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me.”

Pulling you flush against him, you two kissed deeply and slowly, savoring each sensation. In his passionate embrace, you knew no other place you belonged more than by his side, in the spotlight of his beautiful devotion.

Charles' tender words and loving gaze never failed to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You shyly ducked your head against his chest, overwhelmed by the passion and devotion in his eyes.

“You always say the nicest things.” you mumbled shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. His affection still caught you off guard at times, even after all this time together.

Charles lifted your chin, thumbs gently brushing over your flushed cheeks. “And I mean every single little word, ma chérie.” (my darling)

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that had you melting. Pulling back slightly, your foreheads remained pressed together as Charles simply gazed at you with endless tenderness.

“How is it that after all this time, you continue to take my breath away?” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly.

You just shrugged, embarrassed. “I don't know, I'm just me...”

“Exactly!” Charles smiled. “You're you - compassionate, beautiful, sweet, and so strong. I fall more in love with you every second of every day... You deserve to see yourself the way I see you.”

His honeyed words had you fighting back happy tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clinged to Charles in a tight embrace, overwhelmed by the depths of his love and care.

He held you just as close, gently rubbing your back and peppering your hair with tender kisses. “I love you so much, mon coeur. Never forget how amazing and cherished you are to me.” (my heart)

Suddenly you pulled him close to you again, you kissed him languidly, pouring every ounce of gratitude and affection into the intimate gesture.

Charles responded in kind, holding you reverently against his body. Lost in each other, you two became so enraptured that the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

All too soon, oxygen became a necessity. Breathless and flushed, you rested your foreheads together, smiling softly at one another.

You whispered. “I could stay like this forever in your arms.” you sighed contentedly and Charles nuzzled your cheek sweetly.

He smiled. “Well, then let us make a life filled with these kinds of moments, mon bébé.” he declared with quiet conviction. (my baby)

Your breath caught at the promise in his tone. Gazing deep into his eyes, you saw your future stretching ahead - a future of partnership, passion and being cherished each and every day by this beautiful soul.

Overcome, you pulled him once again into an embrace, clinging tightly as happy tears welled. In that perfect moment, all felt right in your own world wrapped in love's sheltering wings.

In the solace and security of his embrace, he slowly but surely continued renewing your self esteem each and every day. You truly feel like the luckiest girl to receive such devoted affection from your soulmate.

#formula one x reader #charles x shy reader #f1 x you #charles x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x florist girl #charles blurb #charles leclerc x flower girl #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x shy reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #mariclerc fics

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