#felt really proud of him and he looked proud of himself as well
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bubblingbowie · 2 days ago
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18+ bitch / f!reader / i wanna bite his calves...
Logan Howlett with a flower mutant lover. think poison ivy! always having a trail of ferns wherever you go, some pretty mums growing between the cracks of sidewalk you walk on, his hand intertwined in yours. he thinks you're just darling. sweet and bright with a marvelous talent. a talent that shows even more so in the bedroom.
he'll have you on your back, legs pushed up so meanly he doesn't even care how your moans have turned into pathetic mewls and whines. it's all greek to him with your pretty pussy tugging him so tight with each press of his hips. "ah, nah, lemme hear ya. gotta hear you baby, you know that..." god he's whipped. yet even more whipped with seeing how pretty flashes of purple sprawl out from under you. wisteria.
you were gardening on auto pilot while Logan makes you see stars and he thinks he just might cum right then. "look at that..." he muses lowly, chuckling. had he really been so gracious to his lover they'd bloom so freely? his hips pick up a faster pace to test this little theory. your poor pussy was so beaten, how could he know you were about to cum?
the only signal you could give him of nearing an edge was your nails clawing onto his bulky and flexing arms with a dumb but desperate look in your eyes. Logan knows. but he wasn't going to steer your attention away from his. you'd see what you're doing and hide your face in the pillow! he couldn't have that, his flustered girl.
so he only smiles lazily, arms caging your head between his forearms. just you and him. "let it out, princess" he grumbles. oh he knows you so well "lemme feel it, atta girl- shit.." the dam breaks and you cum with a cry. it's impossible to see the wisteria now climbing up onto the walls. he's never felt more proud of himself. "sweetest fucking thing, i swear. that's it, dolly." he fucks you through it, the thumps he feels on his dick just agonizing but his baby always comes first. literally.
he won't bother telling you what you've created until after you come back from your hazed state. he smile at you, rough knuckles running over your cheek. his sweetest flower.
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localwebslingers · 2 days ago
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It didn't really feel like he was being sized up as Spider-Man watched him, but Peter definitely felt like his being there was being fully taken in. Along with what he was saying and maybe, just maybe, putting together some of the implications of it. With the mask on, even with the reacting eyes, it was hard to say for sure and while he knew first hand that was half the point of it to begin with, but he could swear he could still read the other as well as he was being read himself. Not fully, but enough for the message to get through. The lines of tension, where they were, any tilt to his head, because they were different but there had been some things still the same the last time he'd crossed paths with other versions of himself. The same was likely true even now.
So he waited and when the nod he let out a soft breath and any tension he had himself eased. Nerves more than anything, about if the two of them but especially Harry would be believed. Be given a chance. He gave his own nod of agreement, "Yeah, you too...see you around." both from a distance as the other swung through the streets and later when they had a chance to meet again. Either with the cultists or something else down the road, Peter wasn't sure what but it would be bound to happen.
He watched Spider-Man back away and jump down, and imagined there would be some headclearing needed on his part after the talk, before looking over as he heard Harry let out the sigh. Immediately running his thumb along the back of his hand again to try and offer some assurance and comfort. Correction, that was two people who needed to have a little headclearing after that talk, "You're welcome, glad I could help." he wasn't sure he would have at first, but it felt like he at least helped smooth things a little before they could wrinkle too much. The tension was impossible to ignore, and the distrust on both sides felt familiar and foreign but still hurt to see. He could only imagine it hurt for the other Spider and Harry even more.
"...I'm also really proud of you for not rolling your eyes out loud." he teased lightly, even if Peter really was sure he could physically feel the exaspiration when it hit for Harry during that talk. It still counted, and he smiled a little, "Do you wanna stay up here for a few minutes or just head back home for a while?" they could use a break after both the breaking and entering date, and now this.
|| @inhcritance ||
Peter, of all people, understood it, and Harry had a good idea about how much. He doubted that Spider-Man did, but depending on how much he put things together... well. Harry was not about to pretend he had no hand on the rift between them, but it still hurt. And it still stung, relieving as it was, to see Spider-Man regard Peter for a very long moment, not tense and not aggressive but still cautious, thoughtful.
Harry couldn't help the thought, as his once best friend nodded at last, that years ago he would have been able to read every little shift of his shoulders. Or at least he'd have believed so, given how little he knew about him at all.
"Alright." Peter said, and Harry wasn't sure if he believed them or not, but it would do. "We'll keep in touch. And nice meeting you." He told Peter, before taking one step back.
A part of Harry still worried, even as his senses told him he was okay, jumping into the void. And while Harry didn't collapse once he was gone, there with just Peter around he let out a long sigh, unwilling to let go of Peter's hand just yet. But he turned a bit to face him again.
"That went better than I feared." He admitted. And then, "thank you."
Because he didn't know if he'd have managed to deal with that conversation alone. If, after so much fighting Oscorp, after dealing with so much distrust and politics on the regular, he could have faced someone he'd trusted and now distrusted him so clearly and stayed cool enough, if he didn't have at least Peter on his side.
@localwebslingers
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fanficsbysteve · 19 hours ago
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Note: You can thank @weewoo911 for this idea not leaving my brain so I had to write it before I could continue on my other WIPs. Thank you for this and I hope you enjoy. I’m ignoring the Abby thing because that was BS, and I don’t like it. This will probably be multiple chapters. All from Tommy’s POV cause its more fun to write. Not sure how many chapters though. I'll keep you posted as I write them.
***
Tommy sat at the second floor table, his phone out, mindlessly scrolling through the various apps he had downloaded. Twitter, Tumblr, those kind of apps. The ones where you created a username and maintained some level of anonymity. He loved being able to spend time just looking at things he enjoyed without people knowing what he was doing or who he was. Lately all he had been doing though is reblogging images of actor Evan Buckley. Evan Buckley in “My Heart Yearns.” Evan Buckley in “Christmas in the Poconos.” Evan Buckley in “The Things That Ate You.” Evan Buckley in “What Happens Happened.” This man was currently the king of the B-Movies and Tommy loved every single one of them, owning many of them on DVD or Blu-ray so he could watch them over and over again.
Tommy was a gay man and was coming to terms with his homosexuality. He hadn’t told anyone in his life yet. That wasn’t any of their business. But he was slowly hating himself less as the days progressed. Maybe he would tell someone when he didn’t hate himself as much as he did, maybe Hen would be the best option. She was an out and proud lesbian with a loving wife, she wouldn’t judge him like he judged himself. He felt dirty looking at the pictures he did online. He felt horrible just thinking about the things that he wanted all those men to do to him. Particularly Evan Buckley. That man could do things that weren’t in any holy book to him, and Tommy would probably thank him for it. And it still made him feel dirty inside. Not nearly as much as others. Just a little. Nothing Evan Buckley did could make him feel completely like he was a horrible person going to hell.
So, Tommy was scrolling while they sat around the 118. It was quiet *knock on wood* and Tommy was enjoying the quiet time. They had finished all their various “chores” and Bobby was already cooking some dinner. Everyone knew to leave Bobby alone while he was in the kitchen, “Seen any good movies lately?” Chimney’s voice broke the silent revery that Tommy’s mind had taken. His real name was Howie Han, however everyone called him Chimney. Nobody really knows why, and Chim likes to keep it mysterious. Tommy thinks its because Chimney’s are tall and built well. However, their Chimney is anything but that.
Tommy looked up from his phone, “Nothing really. Just the usual B-movies that nobody really watches.”
“Why do you do that to yourself?” Hen asked looking up over the newspaper she had been reading, “They are always so painfully bad.”
“I know,” Tommy smiled, “But they make me laugh. You never watched Mystery Science Theatre 3000? They basically made a career out of watching the worst movies that cinema has to offer. And they are gloriously bad. Making up commentary for them is half the fun.”
“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” Chim replied, “I took Tatiana to see that new Marcel movie. Can’t remember what I was called but it was ok.”
“I’ll stick to my sappy RomComs and B-movies,” Tommy replied, “They never disappoint me to the point of forgetting a title.”
Tommy went back to his phone. He was on Tumblr right now, curating his queue, enjoying his timeline. It had taken him some time, but he had finally gotten it to the point where he enjoyed just spending hours scrolling, finding new posts for his own blog and queue. He admitted that he was a bit of an Evan Buckley stan account at this point. His posts were mostly either pics of Evan Buckley, gifs of Evan Buckley, videos of Evan Buckley, or stories written about Evan Buckley. He was just so handsome, and it made Tommy’s stomach turn itself over and over. From the tattoos that covered his body in special places, so that adorable little birthmark above his eye. Tommy wanted to plant a kiss on that mark so badly.
Tommy went to the kitchen to get another refill on coffee. He hadn’t slept much the night before but that was his own fault. He had gotten distracted by watching Evan Buckley movies and he just wanted to finish at least one. One lead to another and suddenly it was an hour before he had to get up and get ready for work. Tommy visibly yawned as he poured another cup, “Late night?” Bobby asked while he cooked.
“Just got distracted,” Tommy replied, “Didn’t realize what time it was and just didn’t end up sleeping much. Coffee is my best friend today.”
“I’ve had those nights,” Bobby smiled, “Usually they involved a beautiful woman.”
Tommy choked a bit on his coffee at the face that Bobby made at him, “um…uh…yeah…beautiful woman,” was all that Tommy managed to get out of his mouth before he hurried away, his face beet red.
He sat down in his chair and pulled his phone back out. He went back to his absent scrolling, smiling inside at all the new pictures of Evan Buckley that were appearing online recently. He had gotten a starring role in a TV show that hadn’t been announced yet, but Tommy was a premium member of the Evan Buckley fan club, so he got all the insider information. He admitted that it was childish to have that membership, but nobody knew who he was, and he was the only one who knew he had it, so why not. It got him all kinds of insider information, and he was a Millennial, so he was allowed to do this. Evan was supposed to be filming the pilot for this show he was cast in sometime in the next few months. Tommy would definitely be watching that show.
“Dinner’s ready,” Bobby announced as he put plates of food on the table. They always served family style, taking what you wanted from the plates and passing them along. It was a tradition that Bobby had started. It was never like this during the Gerrard Era or any of the other dozen chiefs they had since. Just Bobby wanted to make the changes that made working at the 118 better.
“So, I have an announcement to make,” Bobby said as everyone had plated up their meal and was starting to eat, “We will be having someone come and shadow us a little bit for the next few months. They will be filming a new show called HotShots soon. It’s a show about firefighters, and they want some of their actors to get some firsthand experience. To add to the realism. The higher ups have approved of this as they feel this would be really good PR for the LAFD. Several different stations have had different actors who have been cast in the show come shadow us for a bit.”
“Any idea who we got?” Chimney piped up, “Hopefully it’s Samantha Callens, I heard she was cast in something and maybe it was this. She can really learn what its like to be a female firefighter from our Hen here.”
“Shut it Chim,” Hen piped up.
“No, we have someone different,” Bobby said. He pulled out his phone to check his emails, “Give me a second here to find it. Ah yes, we have someone named Evan Buckley coming.”
Tommy did a spit take with the coffee he had just been drinking, sending it flying across the table. Nobody was sitting across from them so that was a blessing, “You know that guy?” Chim asked having dodged to the side to avoid the coffee, Chim was in the chair next to the spot opposite Tommy.
“No…not really…he’s just been in a couple movies I’ve watched,” Tommy stuttered, trying to wipe up the coffee he spat all over up.
“Well, he starts tomorrow,” Bobby said, “And I expect everyone to be on their best behaviour.”
Tommy sat down in his chair, his heart racing and threatening to burst out of his chest. Evan Buckley was going to be here, in the 118, with Tommy. Tommy silently took his phone out and looked at the top of his Tumblr page, staring at his username: kinardbuckleyxoxo was all it said. Tommy knew that it was going to be a long few months. Very pleasant. But also, very long.
***
Note: Chapter 1 complete. Chapter 2 the real fun begins. I usually try and make sure that I have at least a buffer of a few chapters going before I post but I wanted to get this out into the universe so that people can let me know if they enjoy it. So, leave me some comments and likes and give me any feedback you want. Also if anyone has a fun title idea, please let me know cause I'm at a loss. (I may have written this in an hour and a half after I woke up and saw the idea from @weewoo911)
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delicatepointofview · 2 years ago
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thinking about louis giddy with excitement after the scala show telling helene how he finally managed to let go of his insecurities on how he might be sounding like at the very beginning of the show and gave into the great atmosphere and energy of the crowd oh my god you could see in his face how absolutely delighted he was 🥹
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thethingything · 9 months ago
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local man discovers he's gotten into the habit of using DBT techniques without actually being taught them because at some point he realised that the things we get the urge to do when we have strong emotions often aren't healthy and that he doesn't like how he feels afterwards so he started noticing when that was happening and going "fuck that shit" and doing the opposite instead
#personal#thoughts#Lucy post#talking to 🍬 about various stuff we do because of our social anxiety and what are probably undiagnosed BPD symptoms#and we realised he's gotten himself into the habit of paying attention to how his emotions affect his judgement#and trying to take a step back when he's experiencing an emotion that he knows gives us the urge to do stuff that's not healthy for us#and he said he felt bad about having those emotions and urges to do unhealthy stuff#at which point I was like ''okay but you're choosing not to act on that and to take a step back and do something healthier instead#which is what actually matters here and is also something that takes a hell of a lot of self-awareness and self-control''#this is shit they teach you in therapy that's difficult specifically because you're going against your brain's instincts for a situation#and we were never taught how to do it so you've just fucking taught yourself to do it instead#without actually knowing it's a specific technique that has a name#I was aware of it but had never actually looked at the instructions properly because when I stumbled across it#it was at a point where being told to go against what my emotions made me want to do felt invalidating and upsetting#I've literally just pieced together that ''oh right that's what that is and how it's supposed to work#and how it's meant to feel when you do it right''#anyway all this is to say that I keep being impressed with the amount of progress 🍬's made on learning healthy coping mechanisms#including things I could never seem to get the hang of when I was fronting more and handling more stuff#and I'm really proud of him and 🦋 and everyone else who's been handling stuff within the system and keeping things running#but also nobody in here seems to realise how much progress they've made with anything until someone else points it out#I just realised I should tag this as#happy posting#because I'm talking about stuff that's going well and where we've actually made a lot of progress
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cathnospam · 2 months ago
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Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.
“It was not that damn funny.”
You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.
At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.
But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.
You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.
He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?
“Who pissed in your breakfast.”
“What?”
“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”
The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”
It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”
He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.
You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.
It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.
After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”
“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”
Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“
You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”
“We know.”
You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”
“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.
It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.
“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”
“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”
You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.
Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.
Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.
But Bakugo missed it the most.
Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.
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roscolate · 1 year ago
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I CRIED MY FREAKIN’ EYES OUT 😭😭😭😭💔❤️💚
And listening to Kaleb Jones’ “Till the World Stops Turning” made reading this more emotional yet fit so well 😭😭
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Sleepless pt.7
First // Pev // Next // Webtoon
#like no joke#this is my first time reblogging for this comic since I’ve been commenting on the previous updates#but I didn’t think commenting alone would quite do my reaction justice#Luigi tearing up when he expresses how Mario blaming himself and not letting him help hurts him 😭💔#and ‘I don’t want to bring you down’ 😭😭💔#it’s clear that his dad’s words cut Mario like a knife and caused him to feel this much guilt#I really hope the bros address that#AND THEIR EYES GLOWING EACH OTHER’S COLORS WHEN LUIGI FINALLY GETS THROUGH TO MARIO 😭❤️💚#AND MARIO’S DULL MONOCHROMATIC FORM RETURNING TO ITS VIBRANCY#AND THE FREAKIN’ HUG 😭😭😭#MARIO WAILING IN LUIGI’S ARMS 😭😭😭#I was on the verge of crying before but the moment my eyes landed on that page I freakin’ lost it 😭😭#I wasn’t kidding when I said this was gonna kill me#and Marilyn’s look of relief 🥺🥺#job well done my girl job well done#the bros holding each other and squishing each other’s faces while smiling 🥹🥹🥹#just…damn…this was so SO good#I don’t think I’ve felt so much relief seeing a hug happen in my life#especially ​after so much build-up#I also want to say thank you for this Kate and congrats on reaching this milestone#more importantly I’m proud of you for taking your time with this#this was so worth the wait ❤️#super mario universe#the super mario bros movie#super mario bros movie#super mario movie#mario movie#mario#luigi#mario and luigi
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lyrefromthesea · 7 months ago
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Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap
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author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.
pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader
content warning: suggestive words and actions
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Tengen:
"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.
"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.
"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.
"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.
"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.
"come on, you know you love it!"
Obanai:
he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.
"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.
"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.
"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.
"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.
"don't tease me, [name].."
Rengoku:
"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.
"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.
"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.
"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."
Sanemi:
"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.
he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.
"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.
"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.
"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.
"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.
"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.
Giyuu:
"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.
"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.
he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.
you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.
"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.
"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.
Muichiro:
"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.
"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.
"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.
"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.
he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.
"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.
his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.
Gyomei:
"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.
"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.
your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.
"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.
"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.
"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature
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plethorawrites · 27 days ago
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I’m kinda curious as to how the batboys would react with a partner that randomly compliments them (like really sweet and sappy things too, “you’re so pretty, I love how smart your are, you’re perfect,” etc.) + refers to them as Boyfriend, no name, just Boyfriend
Like the reader would be all “hey! This is Boyfriend,” while holding onto him.
Ahhh, I love this concept!! (I only did part of it, but please let me know if you want the other part!)
---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_
Bruce: Would be very confused at first because he's always used to his partners introducing him as Bruce Wayne. And he always knew they did it so people realized their partner was dating a billionaire. He'd expect it from you, like with everyone, but then you simply introduced him as your boyfriend. Alright, that was strange. He assumed it was because it was just your coworkers he met and you didn't care much what they thought. Then it happened with your friends and your parents and each time you introduced him to someone, not as Bruce Wayne the billionaire, but simply your boyfriend, he felt his heart clench a little. His wealth or status hadn't won your heart, he had.
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Dick: When you don't introduce him by his name the first time he meets your friends, he says nothing about it. He assumes it was a one off. But no. You kept calling him that, barely saying his name at all, if ever. It was always "Oh, my boyfriend likes that restaurant too!" And "Actually, my boyfriend has an early day tomorrow, we'll pass." He soon realized it was your own subtle jealousy showing. You called him your boyfriend every chance you got because you didn't want a single one of your friends looking at him for too long, let alone any strangers getting the idea they had a chance. He was a bit proud, honestly. He found it adorable how you'd drag his arm around his waist to emphasize your point.
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Jason: He feared love more than anything. It terrified him to give his heart to someone when it felt so fragile he thought if it broke one more time he'd die for good. But then he gave it to you. He still felt hesitant and you knew that. Which is why you would call him your boyfriend every chance you got. You wanted him to know how much you liked people knowing who he was to you. He realized quickly that you did it for his benefit but couldn't bring himself to ask you to stop. He really liked having you say it and it made him a bit more confident in your love for him each time he realized you weren't ashamed of him.
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Tim: You do it to tease him, but he never responded in the right way whenever you did. He'd lean in as well and start referring to you only as his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner just so it was fair. He rather enjoyed the way it sounded when you called him that. He still couldn't believe you'd actually put up with him, so hearing you state so proudly that he was your boyfriend made him elated. How would it not? He knew you meant it as a dramatic, over the top joke, but he loved hearing it anyway. So much so that you both eventually stopped with the theatrics and began using it sincerely.
---
(Aged up) Damian: He's a proud man, typically. With an ego far taller than him. You called him your boyfriend once before you started dating and he lost it, angry that you didn't give him the chance to ask you to be his girlfriend properly before you began using those labels. Then, you'd use it to annoy him at first. Never saying his name when you introduced him to your friends or family bugged him and you knew it, but you slowly came to enjoy it for reasons other than his frustration. He had to admit, he learned to like it after a while, too. You
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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 month ago
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Aqua Thermae
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Also on AO3
Mini-Series Masterlist
Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader
WC: 2.3k words
Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.
Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!
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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.
Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…
He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.
Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.
Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.
But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.
“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.
You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”
He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”
“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”
His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.
He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.
“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.
You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 
“By the likes of who?” He asked.
“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”
“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”
You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”
“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”
“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 
He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.
For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.
“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.
“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.
You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 
Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 
“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.
You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 
He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.
If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.
“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”
You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”
He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”
You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”
His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.
He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.
You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 
He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 
A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.
Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.
“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.
“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”
He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 
“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”
You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”
He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”
“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.
He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 
“Shall we put you to the test?”
He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.
He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.
Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.
“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.
A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.
“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.
You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.
“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”
He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 
Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.
But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.
It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.
His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.
“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 
As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 
Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 
“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.
You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 
“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 
“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”
You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”
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coquettepascal · 5 months ago
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texas sweet
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summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?
tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)
-> part. ii here!
a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.
texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist
(4.9k, not beta read.)
Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 
Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.
What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.
No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.
Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.
Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 
Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 
So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?
You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 
‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 
Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.
He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 
Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 
…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.
Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.
Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 
And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.
Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.
Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–
“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.
“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.
A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 
“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.
“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.
“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.
“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.
Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.
“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 
He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.
But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–
“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?
“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 
You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.
And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.
Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 
A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 
“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 
He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.
“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.
“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.
Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.
“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”
He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 
This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.
You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 
This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 
He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.
“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.
“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.
God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 
“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.
You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 
You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 
He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.
“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 
The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.
Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”
Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.
It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.
He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.
“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 
Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.
“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.
Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.
You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.
Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.
Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.
Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.
“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.
Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.
“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.
He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 
Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 
“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 
This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.
Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 
Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 
He shakes his head, voice tight.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.
Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.
“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.
You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.
Joel rubs a hand over his face.
“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.
Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.
Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 
His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 
You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.
Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 
“Are you okay?” You ask again.
Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 
Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.
Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.
“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 
It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 
Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.
Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 
“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 
Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 
“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 
Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.
You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.
“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.
Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?
Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 
“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 
And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.
Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.
“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 
Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.
“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.
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rafesangelita · 1 month ago
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₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | PROLOGUE
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a pogue!sweetheart!reader series by rafesangelita ©
SUMMARY: nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the handsome kook that came crashing into your life.. quite literally. it’s hard to think that at one point you and rafe didn’t know one another, especially since you two have spent every passing day together for the last four months.
WARNINGS: drug use, driving under the influence, reckless driving, rafe arguing with ward, descriptions of a mild injury, mentions of addiction and sobriety, blood, reader tends to rafe’s wounds, fluff, opposite of slowburn, forced proximity (?), time skip (from four months ago to the current day), slight angst
AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhhhh!! it’s finally here, and i couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you!! all feedback is deeply appreciated <3 feel free to ask to be added to the taglist if you’d like!
LINKS: series masterlist | next chapter
WORD COUNT: 2.8k
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rafe set a new record for himself tonight, and he wasn’t proud of it. not only did he lose count of the lines he snorted off of topper’s coffee table, he also had ward blowing up his phone. “aye, man, i don’t think you should be driving.” topper slurred, downing the alcohol in his glass. cleaning the residue from his nose, rafe shook him off, stumbling through the crowd of people in the living room before hopping in his truck and peeling out of the packed street.
jaw ticking, rafe cursed to himself when his phone started ringing, ward’s contact lighting up the screen. “i’m going home already, alright? yes— yes, dad! i know we have a meeting with some investors in the morning.. what? no i’m not fuckin’ high!” he rambled on, feigning offense when his father called his bluff. “just stop— i know, okay? i’ll be there in a minute—” before rafe could finish his sentence, he took a sharp turn, swerving onto the curb before hitting a light pole.
you were locking up the icecream parlor when you heard the high pitched squeal of tires against the pavement, a loud crash making you jump from your spot in front of the door. spinning on your heels, your eyes widened when you saw a black truck just feet away from the main street, smoke billowing from under the hood. unsure of what to do, you looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but of course, the strip was always empty at this time of the night.
“son of a bitch!” you heard someone groan before they tumbled out of the front seat, falling face down against the concrete. you gasped, dropping your purse before running across the street. “are you okay?!” you helped the stranger sit up, wincing when you saw blood dripping from his nose. he stared at you wide eyed, his pupils blown as you kneeled in front of him. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.
“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” you reassured him, slipping off your cardigan before holding it against his nose. you noticed the open gash on his brow, your heart sinking when you saw his eyes soften. “we really need to get you to the emergency, do you have a phone?” rafe shook his head, leaning back against the tire of his truck. “no. well, yes, i have a phone.. somewhere.. but i can’t go to the emergency, not like this.” just then, rafe felt a sharp pain shoot up to his temple from his neck.
“yes, like this! you’re all scraped up.” you said incredulously. “no, i mean i’m not sober.” as if he was waiting for you to judge him, rafe watched as your expression didn’t falter. “i promise you, going to the emergency and getting help from a professional is a lot more better than not going at all. your truck can always be replaced; you can’t.” your words lit a fire in his chest, the sincerity in your tone making him crack a pained smile.
“i’ll go to jail for this, and i just can’t do that right now. i have to be somewhere in the morning, my dad will kill me if he finds out..” remembering that he was on the phone with ward before he crashed, he scrambled up to find the device, only to groan and plop back down on the street. still holding the pink cardigan to his head, you guided his hand to hold it for you. “what are you looking for? i can try to find it.” rafe let out a shaky breath, mumbling “my phone.” before you got up and spotted it near the tire.
turning it over, you held it up for him to see. it was completely shattered. “i don’t think it’s going to work..” you handed it to him, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. “what the fuck?” he breathed out, holding his head in his hands. you’ve never seen someone look so defeated before, your feet moving on their own before you could think. “do you think you can walk? my place is only five minutes away.” rafe looked up like he couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth.
“your place?” he repeated, half shocked and half confused as to why you’d offer him help. “yes,” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, “i don’t have a phone there, but i can at least get you cleaned up..” rafe tried to weigh out his options, only to realize he didn’t have any. “are you sure?” he was truly at your mercy. “yes. here— just keep holding this to your head, let me go get my purse and we can be on our way.” you left him with your cardigan, running across the street and grabbing your bag before getting him up.
“i’m a lot stronger than i thought.” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood as you wrapped one of rafe’s arms around your shoulders. “fuck, what about my truck?” rafe leaned his weight on you, nearly making you topple over before you took a step. “someone will find it and call a tow, you could call the towing company tomorrow,” you explained to him, “do you have anything valuable in there?” rafe laughed, shaking his head. “just my piece of shit phone that has no value now.” he grunted, walking with a slight limp.
“hey, uhm, what’s your name?” rafe looked down at you, both of you sharing a glance before he looked away. despite him not being in the right state of mind, there was no doubting how insanely pretty you were. “y/n.. and yours?” why on earth were you getting butterflies right now? “rafe.” was all he replied before he started asking you an abundant amount of questions. rafe learned a lot about you in the short five minute walk to your camper. what you did for a living, where you currently worked for some extra money, what your hobbies consisted of.. along with being a pogue.
“so.. you live all alone in this pink camper in the middle of the woods? aren’t you scared some psycho will come across it and want to know who’s inside?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “a psycho?” you flashed him a playful smile, “like you?” rafe watched as you unlocked the small screen door, a chuckle threatening to slip from his throat. “i would laugh if it didn’t feel like i had a thousand needles stabbing me in my brain right now.” he swallowed thickly, accepting the hand you offered him to step in.
he was immediately hit with the smell of freshly baked cake and vanilla frosting. he loved it. “i know it’s really small in here, but you could just take a seat right there on that little couch and i’ll go get my first aid kit.” rafe did as you said, eyes darting around your space. pink florals, white lace trim, usually he’d be irked by this kind of decor, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he didn’t mind it this time. rafe leaned back on the soft sofa, settling into the cushions while you scrambled for the little first aid kit somewhere in your bathroom.
spotting the small box on your little shelf, you grabbed it before making your way back to where rafe was sitting. he opened his eyes momentarily, finding you even more pretty now that darkness didn’t surround you two. he kept his gaze on you, watching as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. “sorry about this..” rafe took the pink cardigan away from his head, the fabric now stained with blood. “oh, don’t worry about it,” you smiled, “you needed it more than i did.”
pressing a damp cloth to his nose, rafe groaned when you applied the slightest bit of pressure. “i’m sorry!” you pouted, taking a seat next to him. rafe reassured you he was alright, a groan leaving his lips as he clutched his stomach. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you lifted his shirt, your eyes widening at the sight. he was scraped and bruised, a small wound adorning his lower abdomen. “here, lets get this off.” you pulled rafe’s t-shirt over his head, both of your cheeks heating at the compromising position.
“we could stop if this is too weird for you—” you shook your head, taking an ice pack out of your freezer. “no, it’s okay.” you pressed the cold bag to his skin, still wiping away the dried blood on his face. “i’m not sure how far you live, but i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to walk anywhere.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the sound of it soothing rafe more than any kind of medicine he could take right now. “don’t worry about me, i’ll be fine.” rafe watched your fingers dance across his stomach, your nails sparkling underneath the dim lighting of your camper.
you thought for a moment. “i guess what i’m trying to say is; i think you’re better off staying the night here..” you trailed off, meeting his gaze, “you’ll be able to get to a phone in the morning and call whoever you need to. you should just get some rest right now.” rafe was stunned. you wanted him to stay? “i don’t know..” he sounded uneasy, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t help but feel like he was imposing. “it’s okay, i swear! you could take my bed since there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep on this little thing.”
“no, no way, i’m fine with sleeping on the floor.” you smiled at him, eyes flickering down to his lips. “no, really, it’s okay, rafe.” he liked the way his name sounded rolling off of your tongue, “i’ve fallen asleep plenty of times over here, i’ll be fine on the couch.” you got up, wringing out the towel you were using to clean him up. “i just have one rule, though,” rafe held the ice pack to his stomach, humming as you grabbed some ointment and a couple of bandages.
“you can only lay in my bed if you’re clean.. and you need a shower.” the corner of rafe’s lips quirked. “if you want to see me naked all you have to do is ask.” you blinked, pushing his chest softly. “that’s not what i meant.” you giggled. “i’ll get you a change of clothes, just get in there for right now.” rafe was already too far in to look back. getting up with your assistance, you guided rafe to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him. “there’s clean towels and wash rags on the shelf!” you called from the kitchen, yawning as all of tonight’s events started to catch up with you.
rafe didn’t know what to make of all of this. one minute he was high out of his mind, crashing into a light pole with his dad on the phone, and the next he was inside some gorgeous girl’s camper getting tended to before using a strawberry scented body wash in her shower. what the fuck was his luck? taking his time in the shower, rafe thought about how he’d explain everything to ward tomorrow, from the towed truck to the cuts and bruises.
he wondered if ward would even care.
by the time rafe was done, he was stepping out of the bathroom smelling like a slice of strawberry cake with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. he glanced over at the couch, your back facing him as you slept soundlessly. moving aside the pink curtain that concealed the doorway to your room, rafe slipped into the sweatpants you left out for him, settling underneath your silky soft sheets shortly after.
how was it that you just happened to be the only person around when he crashed? how did he crash right in front of where you worked? and why were you being so nice to him? rafe had so many questions and couldn’t think of any logical answers. he didn’t believe in fate, but looking back on it, that seems to be the only explanation. the next day he woke up to his clothes freshly washed and wearable again, your music playing softly in the kitchen. “good morning!” you chirped, your hair and makeup already done for the day.
“hey..” rafe was still shirtless, his eyes following your every move. “what time is it?” he took a seat at the little booth by the wall, his head no longer pounding the way it did last night. “it’s about to be ten. i was debating if whether or not i should’ve woken you up earlier, but you really needed to sleep.” you leaned back against the counter, admiring the handsome man in your camper. “your wallet should also be with your clothes there on that chair,” you started, “..so i was thinking; the little store just right outside of these woods has a pay phone that you can use.”
rafe nodded. “yeah, that sounds good.” he couldn’t think of the last time he woke up without not wanting the day to be over with already. “hey, listen— uhm, i owe you a huge one for everything you’ve done for me.. i apologize if it was an inconvenience in any way, but i really do appreciate you.” rafe got up, grabbing his wallet from your room. “here. please take it.” you looked down at the hundred dollar bills tucked between his fingers, shaking your head as you moved his hands away.
“absolutely not.” you laughed. “no, please, take it.” rafe got closer, opening one of your palms before closing it around the bills. “rafe, i don’t want it!” you backed away, “i’m serious.” rafe let out a sigh. he already knew how this would go, so instead of urging you to keep it, he placed the money on your dresser after he was done changing. “well i guess i’ll be leaving now.” you masked the disappointment on your face by offering him a smile. “yeah, i guess so..” without saying a word, you and rafe stared at each other before he wrapped his arms around you, the action giving you butterflies.
before you could say or do anything, he pulled away and left, leaving your camper feeling more emptier than usual. you walked over to the door where you watched him walk away until you couldn’t see him anymore, a pout on your lips as you did so. while you were sure that you would more than likely never see him again, you couldn’t have been more wrong. that day was the first of approximately one hundred and twenty one days, and counting, that you two would spend together. rafe came back to you the next day with a brand new pink cardigan to replace the other one you so selflessly let him ruin.
one icecream date turned into several, which then progressed into him coming over to your place with an overnight bag, his very own toothbrush now taking a spot next to yours. which then led to him picking you up and dropping you off at work, and so on until he finally said that you were his. you two spent the entire summer underneath the trees, rolling around in the grass as you two gasped each other’s names into your mouths, sharing sweet kisses and an even sweeter love that continued to grow with no intentions of ever stopping.
rafe had gotten sober out of fear that he wouldn’t remember what a love like this felt like if he was high all the time, and without judgement, you were there with him every step of the way. you stayed by his side when he felt like all hope was lost, and for that he could never thank you enough. although ward wondered where rafe would go off to, he didn’t bring himself to care as long as he was doing what he needed to do for the family business. with his dad off of his back, and you to come ‘home’ to everyday, he could say that he was finally, truly happy.
even now as you two sat in your favorite diner, sharing a milkshake and laughing at whatever the other was saying, you felt no worries when you and rafe were together, your heart threatening to burst at the seams everytime you looked at him. everything was perfect.. at least for now. all good things must come to an end, and when you two are threatened by none other than ward himself, the love bubble you two have been mindlessly floating in is suddenly popped.
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readwritealldayallnight · 2 months ago
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Yours, Mine, Ours
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader
wc: 1.5k words
warnings/tags: fluff
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“So did the other two actually say no or did you just never invite them?”
“‘Course I invited them, you asked me to, so I did.” Simon replies with ease, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. “They’re smart lads, lovie, they knew to say no all by themselves.”
You shake your head at him in disbelief but the smile that’s been plastered across your face ever since the two of you pulled out of your flat’s parking doesn’t budge. Simon’s been driving for a few hours now, and as stressful of an experience as that is alone, you’re too excited to mind the long journey in the car.
Simon is on leave for the next two weeks, something about Price having to attend a funeral following a death in the family, and deciding that everyone on the force was due for a bit of time off. Seeing as the Captain was going to be preoccupied during his time off duty, he had asked if Simon wouldn’t mind checking in on his house for him, making sure things were alright. He’d even offered for the two of you to stay in the guest room for the duration of their leave.
Simon had explained how Price knew that the two of you were living in a small flat in London, and apparently his home was in a beautiful, forested, isolated area which meant he had essentially no neighbours, something he also knew would appeal to Simon. He offered for the two of you to stretch your legs out there at enjoy the property, including the privacy that came with it.
Wanting to be polite, you’d told Simon he should extend the invitation to Soap and Gaz, thinking they might enjoy a nice, quiet stay-cation as well at their Captain’s place away from it all. It would appear your lover had different ideas in mind however. Though you couldn’t blame him entirely, the thought of having the cozy cabin all to yourselves was certainly more appealing.
Every which way you look outside the car, your vision is filled by endless blurry trees as you zoom by, the colours of the leaves having finally changed into the warmer, more vibrant colour palette that came along with the autumn chill. If the drive up to his property was any indication of how beautiful the area really was, then you were in for quite the treat.
Entranced by the beauty of the landscape in comparison to the city lights you’ve grown so used to, you fail to notice the glances Simon keeps sneaking your way, the smallest of satisfied smiles seemingly permanently etched upon his face beneath his balaclava. He was grateful that after explaining the situation and Price’s generous offer to you, you had been too excited to ask many questions, instead getting a jump start on packing a duffel bag or two.
You were one of the most intelligent, clever, curious people he’d ever known, and it was normally quite difficult to get anything by you. He was therefore feeling rightfully proud of himself as he drove you nearer and nearer to the home you believed belonged to his Captain. In actuality, there was no funeral for Price to attend, the sergeants had certainly not been invited along on your getaway, and the home you’d be staying in wasn’t Price’s.
It was yours.
Yours, and Simon’s.
The two of you had been living in that shoebox of a flat he’d considered as ‘satisfactory’ when he was only staying there as a bachelor, for far too long. As ideal as the location might have been, there simply just wasn’t enough space for two people to live together, even considering Simon’s absences for work and that fact that when he was home, you two were essentially always on top of one another anyways.
You’d both been searching for a new flat for what felt like ages now, none of the places you visited feeling like the right fit. Simon would be weary about a certain neighborhood, you’d be concerned with the lack of any balcony or outdoor space, he’d ignore the price tag that felt your eyes bulging, and you’d shake your head as you walked through doorways that had him needing to duck down.
Little did you know, Simon had been doing his own house hunting, outside of the city. You had told Simon you were fine with staying in London, understanding that it’s convenient to have everything near by. But Simon didn’t want to give you just ‘fine’. He wanted to give you a home. The home he intends to spend the rest of his life with you in, plans on carrying you over the threshold in your wedding dress, hopes to carry sleeping newborns in their car seats through the door.
For months now, Simon has subtlety been learning more about what that home looked like to you. He’d look over your shoulder as you scrolled through Pinterest, casually asking if you could show him your boards, you know just for fun, and paid very close attention when you showed him the one named ‘future house’. On his phone, he had a list a mile long in his notes app, from secretly writing down every comment you made while watching your home reno shows. He’ll casually ask you what you think of the houses you drive by, jotting down your answers in his mind, remembering likes and dislikes.
He believes that like you, it’s the people filling the home that matter more than the structure itself, as proven by the way you continue to put up with his minuscule flat. He knows you mean it when you say you’re alright with another flat. But he has the money goddammit, he has the means to do this for you, and when the listing came up for a home in what you’d revealed as being your ideal area to settle down in one day, the house resembling the amalgamation of everything he believed you’d described as being your perfect place, he knew he had to put an offer in.
And if there ever was anything about the house you didn’t like or wanted to change, he’d gladly do it for you, no questions asked. You want to paint the bedroom? Just tell him what colour you want. You want to change the railing on the wrap around porch? He’s on his way to the hardware store already. You need him to dig a stump out of the backyard to make room for your garden? Sit back and enjoy the show lovie, he’s on it. And when the time comes to build a crib? Well he may as well baby proof the whole house while he’s at it too.
He’s pictured your reaction a thousand times over in his mind. He imagines you’ll maybe give a small gasp when he turns the corner of the long driveway and you first see the cozy, two-storey home, surrounded by never-ending foliage of red, orange, and yellow leaves, the time of year perfect for appreciating autumn in the UK, as well as the privacy the tall trees grant you. He thinks the first thing you’ll comment on will likely be the windows, an item high on your priority list he knew to adhere to.
He imagines you kicking off your boots as you step through the door, pace quickening to explore every room, spinning in the kitchen as you joke about how jealous you are of Price. He pictures you groaning with envy when you spot your dream master bathroom, insisting to Simon that since you’d been tasked with checking in on the home you may as well see every room, right? He plans to explain away the obvious sparseness of the home as the Captain not having lived here long, as being very non-materialistic after all his years in service.
He’ll continue to play along for as long as he can, part of him knowing that you know him well enough that you’re likely to catch onto his deception at some point. However he hopes that before you start rummaging through kitchen cabinets and find them empty, too empty even for an absentee captain of a homeowner, that you’ll mention something along the lines of wishing you could stay here longer. That’s when he plans to slip a key into the palm of your hand, revealing that you might be able to stay longer than you believe.
The small piece of metal that’ll unlock the rest of your lives together, sits heavy in his pocket, in contrast to the light feeling in his heart when his hand reaches across the dashboard to grab a hold of yours, knowing that the content, lovesick smile you offer him is likely stretched across his face as well, staring right back at you.
Though you’re unaware that Simon is currently driving towards your home, and not away from it, you’re gently stroking the scarred skin across his hand, feeling as though your home is sitting right next to you, holding your hand and your heart at the same time.
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harrysfolklore · 3 months ago
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Imagine max x driver!reader with the whole fia and swearing situation they’d be such a power couple. Manifesting more max fics!! I love all your work esp little bitch and honorary wag💓
okay this is teeeny tiny piece but i just had tooo. max is too iconic
You're sitting beside Max, your boyfriend and teammate, in the press conference room after the qualifying session in Singapore. The air feels thick with humidity and tension, though most of the tension is radiating off Max.
His latest penalty from the FIA—a fine and community service for swearing —has him fuming. He made it very clear on the way in that he wasn’t going to play nice. Today was going to be a day of vague, shady responses, and you were more than happy to back him up.
The moderator starts with the usual question for Max about how he felt securing P2.
“It was fine,” Max replies, voice completely flat. No elaboration, no typical analysis. Just that.
The reporter stares at him, clearly expecting more, but Max leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as if daring anyone to push him further.
To your right, Lando is barely holding it together, his mouth twitching as he watches the whole scene unfold. You catch his eye and he shoots you a look like, Is this real?
The next question is directed at you. Something predictable about how you’re feeling being P3, your thoughts on tomorrow’s race strategy.
“Well,” you start, raising an eyebrow, “I guess the plan is… to go fast and not crash.”
There’s an awkward silence in the room, the journalist blinking at you as if he didn’t hear you correctly. Lando makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, struggling to contain himself as you sit there, completely straight-faced.
“And the tire strategy?” the moderator presses, trying to steer things back into something vaguely professional.
“Use them until they wear out, I suppose.” You lean back in your chair, mimicking Max’s posture, crossing your legs casually as if you’ve just given a perfectly reasonable answer. Max looks at you with a cocky and proud smile, you discretely wink at him.
"Max, can you elaborate on your car's performance today?" another reporter tries.
Max tilts his head, considering for a moment. "It went forward when I pushed the pedal, and stopped when I hit the brakes. Very efficient, really."
You can't help but smirk at his response, and you notice Lando has given up on maintaining composure, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
The moderator, looking increasingly uncomfortable, turns to you again. "YN, how do you feel about potentially challenging your teammate for position tomorrow?"
You lean forward, adopting a serious expression. "Well, I've been told it's important to keep things clean on track. Wouldn't want to use any… inappropriate maneuvers."
"Absolutely. We're all about clean racing now. Very family-friendly." Max adds
The reporters exchange glances, clearly unsure how to handle this united front of sarcasm and vague responses. Lando, meanwhile, has resorted to covering his face with his hands, his shoulders visibly shaking with suppressed laughter.
As the press conference draws to a close, you and Max stand up together, your body language mirroring each other's. Before leaving, you turn to the room with a final statement:
"Just want to thank everyone for their thoughtful questions today. This has been a very enlightening experience. Almost as enlightening as some recent FIA decisions."
As you exit the room, hand in hand with Max, you can hear the burst of chatter from the journalists behind you, no doubt trying to decipher the subtext of your responses. Lando catches up with you in the hallway, finally letting out the laugh he's been holding in.
"You two are unbelievable," he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose it in there!"
Max grins, his earlier tension now replaced with a sense of satisfaction. "Well, we aim to entertain," he says, giving your hand a squeeze.
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priestessame · 4 months ago
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♠.. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐧 (。々°)
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.. minors dni ..
NSFW drabble, Fem AFAB reader. Warnings: Slow burn, dirty talk, pet-play? (≖ᴗ≖ ✿)
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It is difficult to get him jealous, nearly impossible. Sylus is far too secure, it stemmed from his astute sense of self. After all, he's built everything from the ground up, crawled himself out of hell to get where he is now and woven wealth out of shadows. In every way and more, Sylus is the uncrowned king of the N109 zone, so a man that's so self made just cannot be thawed with insecurity.
Until ofcourse, you showed up.
Jealousy had always been something trivial for him, but around you it sneaked up so easily, it was alarming. Even the politest of smiles and the most innocent glances had him clenching his fists.
Most people would fidget under prying eyes, twiddling thumbs and shuffling when they feel people's gazes. But nothing really bothered Sylus. He never felt the urge to act a certain way in the presence of others, he was too used to having the gazes on him. Unfortunately nowadays, the gazes seemed to shift past his form, pinning on someone he had on his arm. All of a sudden he was hyper aware of everything. He would find himself slipping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to whisper in your ear and pressing a ghost of a kiss against the nape of your neck. You were his, and the prying eyes had to know that.
That man is too proud to actually admit that he is jealous. He tries to play it off, his arrogant smile not faltering for a second, disliking how he's letting his emotions get the better of him. And he knows it's no fault of his beloved, so he tries to find other ways to channel those... urges.
You would think he'd have you kneeling immediately but Sylus' jealousy isn't harsh on you. Its all pearls and silk. This time it started with a gift.
His gift stands to true to the way he usually addresses you. It's fancy, and frilly, with a golden bell seemingly sewn into it. Yup. The more you look at it, the more it looks like a fucking cat collar.
The collar is crafted from lace and it sits delicately against your skin. The bell jingles as he pulls you closer, tracing the lovely pattern with his fingers. The touch is harmless but it still sends shivers down your spine.
"It suites you kitten." He hums. His fingers glide under your jaw, turning your face ever so lightly to press a kiss on the corner of your mouth. His scent crawls over you, grazing your skin as if its ghosting over your soul. He seems drained of his usual impatience, practically purring as he peeled each item of clothing leisurely, lips barely touching your skin.
It pins you in the moment, forcing you to feel the ebbing need as each second passes by. Its torturous how he touches you then, featherlight kisses over your skin, and praises that have you blushing under him. He knows how to please you so well, but he teases you too much fingers never pressing down hard enough, only glazing off your sensitive parts.
By the times he's done, he only left the collar on you.
His fingers trailed down your stomach, "Maybe i should have gotten you kitty-ears and a tail too. What now? you're squeezing your pussy at just me saying that?" He says, his tone makes you squeeze your legs together, his cranberry eyes drink up your bare frame. The gaze itself felt smiting, the imprint of his cock straining his trousers painfully taunt. 
But every time you fingers reach to slide up his cock, he just peels your fingers away, clicking his tongue, "Don't make me pin you down with my evol, sweetie. You don't get to touch me today."  
It was just too much, it has you griding your raw cunt against his clothed bulge, as you plead him to fuck you. To let you cum on his fingers or mouth, but he wasn't giving you that privilege today. Within moments he has his evolve pressing your wrists into the bed as he drags his veiny cock along your folds, the swollen tip rubbing up against your clit in a pang of momentary pleasure before he drew back again. It builds your pleasure painfully close to your release, only to pull away entirely later. 
It makes you whine, buckling your hips back for more friction. Even though he had even traded his usual filth for overbearing praises, they somehow sounded even dirtier than usual. When he finally gave in to you, he wants you finishing on his cock with your cute collar jingling with every stroke.
It is difficult to get him jealous, nearly impossible. But when he does, he finds his salvation in way you desperately beg for him, fisting his hair as he drags his tongue over your folds, in all the times the act is breathless and needy and in how hard your walls grip him as he fucks into you. As he sees you sprawled for him, juices dripping down on his silk sheets eyeing him with that overstimulated lovesick gaze, so fucked out but still begging him to fill you up again, his jealousy is finally satiated. 
Not to mention he'd love if you pick out a matching dog collar for him later, something with spikes that spells his name out in diamonds.
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ellecdc · 4 months ago
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New to Nesting
alpha!Remus Lupin x omega!bestfriend reader who nests for the very first time [2.2k words]
p2 to this post but can be read as a standalone
Prompt: Nesting-character A is building their first nest and is a bit overwhelmed and confused - their nest ends up being a bit...unconventional. Character B is still incredibly proud of course.
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Remus had spent the majority of his life fighting against The Wolf, his lycanthropy, his nature; he resisted the deeper urges and instincts that threatened to take over at any given moment.
So when his best friend presented as an omega, prompting him to present as an alpha, he was once again ready to fight his instincts, his nature.
Sirius told him all he knew about alpha’s - the Black’s being a line of alpha’s until Sirius presented as a beta were the only examples of alpha’s he could go off of - and it’s understandable why Remus was so wary of giving into his nature, even if it meant getting to keep you.
He had no desire to give into the animalistic urge to claim you, to have you belong to him, to be subservient to him.
So you can imagine that it came as a huge surprise (and relief) for him to realise that being your alpha was not claiming you, it was not you belonging to him, and it was not you being subservient to him.
It was caring for you, valuing you, protecting you, and it was devoting himself body and soul to you.
So, you know, nothing had really changed since the two of you started dating. What he had already felt for you just became instinctual for him.
Being your alpha meant taking care of you, and so he did.
Though he admittedly didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job of it at the moment; mostly because you were pacing around the flat chewing your thumb - which was likely very close to bleeding at this point - and mumbling incoherently to yourself as you picked up and put back various items and then squirrelling back to the room before washing, rinsing, and repeating.
He’d asked you what you were up to a few times, to which you quickly waved him off. He’d asked if he could help you at all to which you quickly declined.
He was pretending to read when you came wandering back into the room, still muttering, still chewing on your thumb, still lovely and beautiful and his and fuck he loved you.
And it was because he loved you that when you ended up standing over him giving him your best doe eyes and asking if you could have the blanket he currently had over his lap, he simply pulled it off his lap and handed it to you instead of pointing out the fact that there was a free throw blanket folded nicely over the couch across the room.
He was rewarded for his sacrifice by way of a sweet kiss, though, so he wasn’t too bothered.
While you were back in the room - doing whatever you’d been doing - he summoned the other throw blanket over and continued in his reading.
But eventually he realised he couldn’t find his bookmark, so he stood and shook his (new) blanket out and put it aside before checking the cushions of the sofa to no avail.
He knew you had come back into the room, but you still managed to startle him when he turned to find you standing right behind him with his throw blanket held tentatively in your grasp.
“What are you doing, dovey?”
“Can I take this?” You asked in way of answering; tone soft and eyes large.
Remus began to speak but his words died on his tongue; he didn’t want to say no to you, but you’d also already taken one of the blankets from the living room. Were you cold? Were you getting sick? Should he light a fire? Should he call St. Mungos?
He didn’t know where to start, so all that managed to escape his lips was “do you know where my bookmark went?”
You wrung the blanket between your hands as you avoided eye contact with him. “I borrowed it.” You admitted in a whisper.
“Oh…okay…” Remus started slowly. “But…what will I use for my book?”
That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say when your eyes welled with tears and you looked at him in devastation.
“I- I’m sorry.” You nearly sobbed, and Remus was quickly shaking his head.
“No! No no, it’s okay dovey, it’s alright. I’ll use a receipt.” And to punctuate that decision, he pulled a wad of receipts out of his trouser pocket to show you.
That, apparently, was a mistake too as you eyed them in interest. Thankfully he was able to convince you to let him keep one of them before you squirrelled away with the rest.
And then it hit him.
He ran to the kitchen to check the calendar on the wall that the two of you used to track each of your cycles as well as the moon - you were coming into heat.
And though he was accustomed to your heats by this point; this behaviour was very new.
You were nesting.
For the very first time, at that.
Remus felt his chest swell with pride and love, though tried to keep both at bay as he carefully tiptoed down the hall towards your shared bedroom.
He could hear a record - one of his favourites - playing quietly in the background before he made it to the doorway.
Both blankets you had stolen from Remus were hanging over the two side railings of your four poster bed frame - closing in the bed with only an opening at the foot of it not unlike a den.
You seemed to have tucked Remus’ receipts and bookmark in between two pillows, and he could spot a few of his jumpers, his towel from his shower this morning, the throw pillows from the couch he usually used as back support, a hair brush, a few socks, and… a fork?
“Baby.” He breathed out, causing you to turn on the spot and bring your thumb back up to your teeth. “What are you up to?”
You let out a pained breath from your nose as your eyes welled up again. “I don’t know.” You whispered.
“Are you making a nest?” He cooed, and you let out a wet sound.
“It’s bad.”
He found he couldn’t take it anymore and pried your thumb from between your teeth, pressing a kiss to the raw skin you’d been mauling all afternoon. “It’s not bad, dove.”
“It’s terrible.” You continued as you eyed the nest sceptically.
“Stop.”
“I’m terrible at this.”
Remus took you by the shoulders and turned you towards him and forced you to make eye contact with him. “It is not terrible, and you, my love, are certainly not terrible either.”
“I’m not good at it.” You whimpered then, tears finally falling down your cheeks that Remus was quick to catch with his thumb.
“You’re perfect at everything you do.”
You let out a sound halfway between a groan and a sob. “You have to say that.”
“Dovey, it’s your first nest; it’s wonderful.” He pressed, and fought back a chuckle when he could feel you stop your foot petulantly.
“Why don’t you try it out, hm? Maybe that’ll feel better? Do you want to take a shower and get into some comfies to give it a try?” He murmured into your hair, relishing in the way you melted into his side as you considered the prospect.
“Would you come, too?” You asked shyly.
Remus pulled back only far enough to look you in the eyes.
“In the shower? Or-”
“My…nest.” You corrected, though you all but sneered the end of the sentence as if nest was a dirty word.
“I’d love to, baby. Go shower, yeah? I’ll put a jumper in the dryer for you.” He directed with a gentle pat at your hip, but you shook your head and tugged at the jumper Remus was currently wearing.
“I want this one?” You whispered in the form of a question, and Remus should have expected it.
“Done, it’s yours. I’ll wait for you, okay?”
And Remus felt a little guilty, but he figured you didn’t need to know that the second you were out the room, he ran to grab his camera and take pictures of your nest, your very first nest; one you built here, with him, for him and you with things of his you deemed worthy and fuck he was going to simply combust with the amount of fondness he felt coursing through his veins for you.
True to his word, he was standing exactly where you’d left him (if you ignored the fact that he ran to grab his camera, took multiple pictures of your nest, ran to hide the evidence of his picture taking and returned only moments before he heard the water shut off) when you exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
He quickly divulged himself of his jumper and held it open for you to put your head through the neck hole, allowing him to pull it over the rest of your body as you let the towel fall to the ground.
“Do you want this one too, dove?” He asked you quietly as he picked up your used towel, referring to the fact that you had his towel in your nest already.
You seemed to consider it as you lifted one end of it, bringing it to your nose to sniff before releasing it with a shake of your head.
Remus bit back a beaming smile as he pressed a kiss to your head and carried it to the hamper.
When he came back, you were kneeling in the middle of the bed with your thumb between your damned teeth again, and a protective sort of possessiveness surged through him at the sight.
“It’s not right.” You murmured sadly.
“What’s not right about it?” He asked gently, reaching over for your hand and huffing when you gave him the one not currently being assaulted by your mouth.
“I don’t know…”
“May I come in?” And you startled as you looked over at him in awe.
“Yes.” You said almost excitedly, moving over to give him room.
He tried to pay mind to where you had seemed to place things, not wanting to shift or disrupt the nest you had made as he crawled in. “Where do you want me?”
You seemed to think on that before ultimately pointing to his side of the bed where he laid back tentatively.
“You look uncomfortable.” You said worriedly as you watched him lay rigidly on his side.
He offered you what he hoped was a smile though he was sure was mostly a grimace. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
You scoffed as you nudged him at his shoulder so he would relax. “It’s already ruined.”
“Dovey.”
“It’s terrible, you can’t ruin it.”
“It’s not terrible and I can ruin it.”
“Stop arguing with me.”
“You stop arguing with me.” He countered, and he relished in the small giggle that escaped your lips as you moved to lay beside him.
“I…I think it’s better now.” You said tentatively, eyes still darting around the bed as though you were trying to make sure.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…I think it was just missing you.”
Remus let out a pitiful sound at that and pulled you into his chest. “Fuck you’re so sweet, I love you.”
You sucked in a deep - and apparently well needed - breath as you melted into his side, pressing your nose to a point in his neck signalling Remus to grab your wrist and bring it to the other side of his neck to scent.
“I’m proud of you- don’t argue with me.” He murmured, cutting you off before you even had a chance to utter one word of contradiction.
“Thank you, Rem.” You opted instead, still hiding your face in the junction of his neck he didn’t deign remove you from.
The two of you sat in contented silence for a while before Remus broke it.
“I think we could do without the fork next time, though.” He admitted as he shifted his hip when he realised that’s what had been poking him in the back.
You nearly ripped yourself from Remus’ neck to grab the fork and toss it across the room, smiling to yourself as you considered your nest again.
“Okay…okay, I- I think this is better. This is better.” You decided, speaking more to yourself than you were to him; he was happy to listen anyway.
Remus smiled as pushed a lock of hair behind your ear. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
You smiled down at him; ethereal and warm and bright and his and fuck he loved you so much.
“I love you so much.” You whispered, drawing a line down his nose with a gentle finger before pausing at his chin, apparently having read his mind.
“I love you too, my sweet girl.”
And Remus was so glad that he didn’t have to fight the instinct to pull you into his chest and breathe you in; to love you, protect you, to devote himself to you, body and soul.
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