#or I’ll make this at a later time when more things come out

[jarofstyles]

Teach Me?

Hello love bugs, we've got a huge one shot here. I see a lot of writing where the guy helps the girl out with inexperience, but I thought I'd like to write something where he's the one asking for help. I had a lot of fun putting this together so I hope you guys like it. I may do more but I have a lot of other stuffed planned but let me know your thoughts!

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WC- 12.3k

Warnings- mentions of insecurity, anxiety, oral, soft!Dom H, soft!Dom Y/N, switchy vibes but mostly Dom!H, Y/N pokes fun at him for being nerdy but she loves it,

"Hey..." Harry began casually, wiping his hands on a towel after washing. Her best friend had invited himself over for dinner, which meant he was going to do the dishes. It was an unspoken rule of their friendship. If you invite yourself, you clean up. But seeing as Y/N was the one who cooked nine out of ten times, it had become a normal to see him at her kitchen sink. Her eyes peeked up at him from her phone, giving him a look to continue. "Can I ask you something? It's a kinda...weird request." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, looking at her with an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He wanted something and it made her narrow her eyes. 

“I’m not going to the convention with you again, Har. It’s not my scene, I told you. I’ll watch any series of movies until our brains leak out our ears but if I have to sit through panels and Q&As where they ask what the characters favorite food is again I may lose my mind.” She knew it was coming up… but apparently that wasn’t his point. Thank God.

 "No! No. Adam is going with me this year. Rude. But besides that…” It made her a lot more curious as to what it could be because he did genuinely look nervous. “It's a weird question, actually." He sat down next to her on the couch, twisting his hands together. "And you can totally say no... but..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Would you... maybe..." The hesitance had her sitting up a little straighter, raising her brow higher to urge him forward. "God..." He muttered softly, trying to find the words. "You promise not to judge?" He saw her raise an eyebrow. "I mean it. No making fun of me." He watched as she slowly nodded, waiting.

“I make fun of you for a lot of things, but if you’re asking me not to, I won’t. Are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, unused to his behavior. He was usually playful and could take any joke, so it wasn’t exactly like him to ask her not to do it. 

"I'm okay." He assured her, but still had the nervous look in his eyes. "It's just... I've recently realized... kinda an embarrassing thing about myself." He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t think… I don’t think I’m actually making girls finish properly when I hook up with them. At least not every time. And I feel like shit about it.”

That was a surprise to her. Harry had the whole hot and nerdy thing going on, and he pulled plenty. Not that he always attempted or took them up on the offers, but he’d had a few girls he had hooked up with that she knew of. Usually he kept pretty quiet about it, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N had assumed a lot about him because… He did have some big dick energy going on. He had really nice hands too. The idea of him being unskilled in bed didn’t feel like it was right, but she was hearing him out. “What’s making you think this?” She asked curiously. “Did someone say something?”

"No, no one's ever said anything. Not to my face." His face flushed slightly pink as he shifted again, trying to get comfortable. "I just... well. Sometimes I noticed they'd tense up or seem kinda disappointed later. Like they were expecting something else. More? I dunno. And they don’t usually text me again, which is fine and all but I hate thinking I let someone down. It’s embarrassing." He avoided looking at her while he talked, staring at his fidgeting fingers instead. "I don't want to be one of those guys who only thinks about themselves. That’s the last thing I want to do." He trailed off, clearly embarrassed. So unlike him that it made her heart hurt a little bit. Harry was a happy guy and seeing him not like that was like seeing a wet puppy in the street. She had to fix it. 

“Well the fact that you even care at all is really good. I know, the bar is on the floor but, unfortunately a lot of men don’t give a shit if we finish or not.” Y/N knew plenty of men- had experienced them herself- that didn’t care if it felt good for her. They wanted a quick nut and go. Harry never seemed to be the type. Honestly, he was very thorough in most things and she’d assumed that would properly bleed over to sex.

 “Wanting to be better is half the battle. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. The first time I sucked someone off I gagged really awfully, the sound made him go soft.” She laughed at her own bad time. “We all start somewhere.”

He laughed softly at her story, feeling a little more at ease knowing he wasn’t the only one. Y/N was far more experienced and open about being a little freak, so it felt better to know even she had some weirder experiences. It wasn’t just him. "Yeah, I can imagine." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gagging on dick is not the most pleasant experience, is it?" He turned to look at her, his eyes serious again. "But, um, thanks for listening and all that. I just... I want to be good at it. For them, and for myself." He looked down at his hands again, picking at his fingernails nervously. He needed to paint them again so he would stop doing it. His pink polish was chipped. "And that's why I was wondering…” He bit his lip, his heart racing as he tried to work up the nerve to ask his best friend a very personal favor. The most personal you could probably get.

 "Would you... would you maybe let me practice on you?” The silence lingered for a moment longer than he was okay with, panicking slightly as he continue. “I promise I'll listen to everything you say, and we can stop anytime you want. We don’t even have to! You can say no, obviously.” The man was babbling as he tried to untwist his tongue. “But I really trust you and I think you'd give me good feedback. Honest feedback." He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed a darker pink that she hadn’t seen before- all the way up to his ears.

“Me?” That… was not at all what she had expected. To be fair she hadn’t been sure what to expect but that would probably be lower on the list. “You want to… practice eating pussy or something, on me? I just want to make sure I heard you correctly.” Because she sure as hell didn’t know if this was some sort of dream or delusion.

Harry nodded quickly, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. "Yeah, you. I mean, if you're comfortable with it. I know it's a really fucking weird request and all, I swear I’m not trying to make anything weird with us but... you're my best friend, and I trust you. And I know you'd be honest with me." Y/N was known for being honest even if it wasn’t the most appropriate time to be. He looked at her with those big, hopeful eyes, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. "Please? I promise I'll do everything I can to make it good for you, if you let me. I just really want to get better at this."

It could fuck up the friendship. Y/N knew that, because it was every sort of cliche thing that tells you do not, under any circumstances, hook up with your best friend. But… it had been a while. Harry didn’t ask much of her besides her dinners and to go to some events with him so he wasn’t alone. He listened to her rants and brought her food when she was hungry and didn’t want to go out. He made her bed for her sometimes just because he was near and tidy like that. He swept the kitchen after dinner. He bought tickets to movies and concerts on his card and told her to pay him back whenever she could. He protected her if people acted weird at the rare chance they went out to the bar. Harry was a really fucking good friend, the best she’d ever had. 

She also couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t think he had a spectacularly pretty mouth and even better hands. They had always been really nice. Soft, long fingers, big palm. The tattoos that trickled down… Fuck. She was going to say yes. Fuck it. “Okay. I guess we can, but I’ve got some rules.”

He blinked, surprised but trying to hide it, his heart racing faster at her surprisingly quick answer. "Rules?" He nodded, leaning forward slightly, completely focused on her words. "Of course. I mean... I'll do anything you say." That came out a bit too smooth, and they both caught the double meaning. He cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and failing miserably. "What are they?" His eyes were fixed on her, his hands folded in his lap to stop them from shaking nervously.

“I mean, I’m being a little dramatic. It’s only a few.” She laughed, leaning back on the couch. “One being we don’t tell anyone. Our friends are already weird about how much time we spend together. Two, you don’t touch me and then another woman. If you find someone else that’s completely fine, but I don’t want her germs and shit on me.” That was not something she liked at all. “If you’re practicing on me, it’s me. I won’t fuck around with other people either, but I don’t fuck with STIs and all that.” It was doubtful he would need to be reminded of that. 

“I’m assuming this is going to be a couple times because the way you get good at stuff is practicing. I won’t complain if I get a few orgasms out of this.” She shrugged as if this was a normal thing to be discussing. Best friends having sex.  “But the last one is you don’t make things weird after you’re all good with your skills. Don’t make stuff weird.”

"Those are..." He cleared his throat, trying to process everything she had just said. "Those are actually very reasonable rules." He nodded, making sure to emphasize each point so she know he heard her loud and clear. "One: Not telling our friends is smart. Two: Of course, no cheating. We aren’t dating but I’m a one woman type of man. My mother raised me better than that. You know she would kill me." He managed a small smile. "Three: I, uh, plan on practicing. A lot, if you let me." His eyes lingered just a moment too long on her lips, then quickly flicked away.

“Good.” Harry was efficient in most things. It’s exactly why she understood how much it probably bothered the hell out of him to not really be able to get a woman off, or so he thinks. She was just being a good friend, right? helping him out. “So walk me through what you usually do when you bring someone home. We start there. I can tell you if something you’re doing is weird.”

He swallowed nervously, trying to collect his thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Well, uh... usually I'd start by kissing them, ya know? Get them a little worked up before moving down." He gestured vaguely with his hands, as if physically trailing kisses down an imaginary body. "Then I'd kinda... kiss around the area, maybe use my fingers first to make sure they're wet and all..." He trailed off, wincing as he realized how clinical it sounded when he said it out loud.

“That sounds decent, but kind of like a routine.” Harry was like that, she knew, but sex wasn’t. “Not all women are the same, though. We’re all different. You don’t experiment at all to see where her sensitive spots are? Do you keep kissing to the lips and her cunt?” The question was blunt, but she usually was.

"Well... No, actually. I kinda just do the same thing every time." He ran a hand through his hair nervously, realizing how basic that sounded compared to how she spoke about sex. "And yeah, I guess I do stop kissing once I get down there. Why?" He was listening intently, genuinely curious about her approach. For all his perceived experience with women, he was suddenly feeling very inexperienced in this one area. Something about the way she talked about sex was... different. Confident, like it was no big deal.

“Because women are sensual creatures, Harry. Sure, we have similar biological things that happen but the way we get horny is with our minds. Teasing a little. Dirty talk, if you’re good at it, ease into it. Kissing places that aren’t just the obvious.” Shifting to face him, she grabbed one of his hands and put it on her shoulder. He was definitely nervous. It was a little cute. “I’ll give you a cheat sheet for me. I really like to be kissed under my ear, over my throat. Sometimes a lick or a suck. A bite, if I’m in the mood. I like to be kissed over my stomach, tops of my breasts, inner thighs, hips. They aren’t necessarily obvious, but the exploration is nice.” 

Taking his hand, she moved it to her neck and then dragged it down past her tits, down her stomach to the waistband of her joggers. “You can have a general path, but you need to be comfortable deviating from it when that’s what she responds to.”

"Fuck..." The curse slipped out quietly as his breath caught, noticing how comfortable she was with his hand on her body. His fingers lingered at her waistband, acutely aware of the sensitive skin just inches beneath. "I never really thought about it like that. I always just went straight for the pussy." He cleared his throat, realizing how crude that sounded coming out loud. "I mean..." She chuckled at his flustered state, finding it endearing. "So you're saying I should take my time? Like, really tease her out?" He moved his hand slightly, fingertips brushing the bare skin of her lower abdomen just beneath her shirt hem. "Kiss other places, see what makes her squirm?" 

His gaze flickered down to where his hand rested, then back up to meet her eyes. There was a new spark of understanding there, like pieces clicking into place. "And if I find somewhere she likes? I should... explore that?" 

“Yeah.” Her stomach had jumped as he moved his hand but didn’t say anything about it. “Every person is different. I’m sure you have places you like to be touched that people haven’t tried yet either. Being in tune with your body and hers, being able to read the cues that’s what could be your strength.” It was something a lot of men didn’t bother to take into consideration.

"Like, if she makes a certain noise or tenses up?" He was genuinely intrigued now, his mind racing with possibilities. "What if she pulls my hair or digs her nails into my back?" He shifted his hand lower, fingers splaying out on her stomach curiously. "Does that mean she likes it?" He was so focused on the hypotheticals that he almost missed the way his hand resting on her stomach made her stomach muscles twitch slightly beneath his palm.

“Yes, exactly that. Sometimes you’ll be able to feel her pulse if you’re holding her wrist, or.. Well, if you’ve got your hand around her throat. We’ll talk about proper choking another day, but you can see if her pulse jumps from that.” His hands were perfect for that, honestly, and she shouldn’t let her mind wander. Nope. “The noises she makes, if she pulls you further in, bucks her hips, those are all good signs. Not everyone is extremely vocal, but checking in to make sure she likes it, if she wants you to give more, it can help.

"Checking in?" He repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to wrap his head around the idea. "You mean like... asking her if she likes it?" He shifted his hand lower still, fingertips brushing the hem of her joggers. "Like, 'is this okay?' Or 'do you like this?'" He could see how that might be helpful, especially with quieter partners. "But wouldn't that ruin the moment?" He looked up at her, genuinely curious and seeking approval.

“You don’t have to ask in such a sterile way. You can just say something like ‘does that feel good?’ or ‘that’s nice, baby?’ and see her response. You’ve got a nice voice, Har. Use it.” She gave him the compliment easily. He did need a bit of confidence boosting, that much she could already tell. “Checking in shouldn’t ruin the moment. It’s safe, it’s a sign of a good partner. You’ll figure out how to check in in a less… abrupt way.”

"Right... fuck me." He muttered under his breath, actually feeling slightly embarrassed about how little thought he'd put into this before. "I've been a clueless fuck, haven't I?" He sighed, running his fingers along her waistband more deliberately now, testing how she responded. His heart stuttered slightly when she complimented his voice."So like..." He traced patterns on her lower stomach with his fingertips, almost unconsciously. “Feels good?” Testing out the way she had suggested.

Y/N swallowed, feeling a bit of a shift. He had seemed to be having a good time touching her stomach, the light tracing on her skin making her heat up a little bit. She wasn’t blind- Harry had most definitely gotten hotter over the years, and he was just attractive in general. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to look at him as anything but the quirky best friend he was, getting to see a different side of him was something she was intrigued by.

 “Mhm.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “See? It doesn’t have to be straight into it. Just touches like that can get a girl wet.” It was starting to get to her, weirdly enough. “Tell me about kissing. How do you usually start it?”

"Kissing..." He trailed off, his mind briefly distracted by the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. "Uh... well. I usually start with a simple peck, just to see if they're into it." His other hand came up to gently tilt her chin, exposing her neck to him. "If they seem like I have the go ahead, I'll press my lips to theirs more firmly- it’s kinda hard to explain with words." Being a little bold, he let his thumb brush over her bottom lip absently as he spoke, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“Well if you’re going to eat me out, I don’t see why you can’t just show me.” Kissing Harry had not been something she had anticipated actually doing, really ever, but she can’t say she hadn’t thought about it. The man had an incredible mouth. Soft looking lips, deep pink, the cute little birthmark, all of it was appealing- it was just that it wasn't a possibility for her prior. “Show me how you do it with them.”

His thumb brushed her bottom lip again, his breath hitching slightly at the idea of kissing her. It was just an exercise, he reminded himself firmly. This was just a dry run, to help him figure out his technique. But as he slowly leaned in, his heart rate picked up, eyes flicking between her lips and onto her eyes. "Like... this." He whispered hoarsely, sliding his hand back into her hair to tilt her head further. His lips pressed to hers gently, just a soft brush at first to test the waters. His lips were soft and warm against hers, the kiss gentle at first. He waited for her to react, to see if she would pull away or lean into it. As she didn't, he took it as his sign to keep going, slowly increased the pressure, his lips molding to hers in a soft, sweet kiss. 

Feeling emboldened when she began to press her lips back to his, Harry peppered her lips with a series of short, sweet kisses. His lips brushed against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, each kiss a little firmer than the last. He could feel her starting to relax into it, her lips softening beneath his own. Encouraged, he let his tongue flick out briefly, a teasing taste before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. She tasted like the lemon lime soda she’d had with dinner, a sweet surprise. All of this had been. He hadn’t been sure if she would say yes and if this would potentially make things weird, but thankfully Y/N seemed at least a little receptive to it. His hand remained in her hair, holding her gently as he studied her face for any signs of discomfort or approval. “Okay?”

Y/N knew he would be a good kisser, but he was playing it safe. However, even with the safety still on, she knew he had it in him. He wasn’t as shy as he had been before and that had surprised her a bit when he had gripped her to keep her in place. That had been exceptionally hot. At least to her. “Yeah. You did well.” She cleared her throat to rid herself of the rasp. “You’re playing it safe, though. Here.” 

Swinging her knee over his lap, she pushed him back against the back of the couch so his posture was more relaxed. “You’re stiff. Pun not intended.” She snickered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve got to relax a little bit. I don’t know if it’s just me or you get anxious when you kiss other girls too. The thing you did holding my face still? That was hot. It’s gonna depend on the girl but you seem to have an idea on what to do.” Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she settled her weight on top of him. Hm.. he really had been doing well at the gym. “You okay with me on your lap?”

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to catch up to the fact that she was currently in his lap. Closer than she usually got to him, voluntarily hopping on up. “Y-yes! I mean, yes, please. Go on." His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying his nerves. He wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected closeness or just the sudden shift in dynamic between them. Her weight felt nice on his lap, but besides a cuddle or two this was definitely the closest they’d ever been. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nervous.”

Y/N nearly cooed. His frown was precious, really. He was precious. Sliding a hand over his jaw, she tilted his head to meet her eyes. “It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s just me. I’m not going to judge you. You asked for my help, and I’m gonna give it to you.” Slipping her fingers in his hair, she made herself familiar with touching him. They hadn’t been super touchy to begin with but she knew Harry liked physical touch. He was clingy with their other friends physically, but he had always respected that Y/N typically wasn’t the type. Now though? It was free game. “You can touch me how you want. Get familiar with me.”

Y/N wasn’t the type to truly judge if you really needed her and he knew that. Hell, that was why he had come to her in the first place- but she was intimidatingly beautiful. It set him off to be even more nervous. His mind briefly wondered if this was how he was in bed- overthinking everything- maybe that was why he didn’t get calls back. 

“Shit.” He muttered softly, then snapped back to attention as she told him to touch her. He wanted to do that, he had always wanted to but Y/N only really liked to be cuddled when drunk. When she was, she would be giggly and happy, hold on to his hand and swing them back and forth, especially when he helped her get into the car. It had always made him feel special, but this? It was a privilege to touch her. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms loosely around her, testing the waters. “Like this?” He spread his fingers out slightly on her back, his thumbs nearly brushing the bottom of her bra strap under her top.

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Leaning into him, she let her fingers run over the rims of his glasses. “These are cute. I like them.” His new glasses suited him. They were a little bit thinner than his old ones and it was a tad bit more modern. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said he had the hot n’ nerdy advantage. “You’ve got really nice hands, Har. Use them.”

He blushed slightly at the compliment on his glasses, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist possessively. "You really think?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side to give her better access to his face. He liked when she did little things like that, adjusting his glasses or messing with his hair. Maybe it was because he felt touch starved, particularly from her, but the simple brushes of her fingers made him feel that heat in his lower stomach. It was so simple but the air felt a lot thicker than it had before. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves to be more bold as he slowly dragged his hands over her hips.

“Mhm.” She nodded, gently running her nails over his scalp. “See? I’m not too scary.” Though she had to admit that the feeling of his big hands pawing at her and running over her hips and waist made her feel a little bit giddy. Maybe she could attribute it to the fact it really had been a while since she had been touched in a way that wasn’t friendly, but her body liked the way it felt. “You’re being polite, which is nice. But as cute as your little gentleman thing is, I know you want to grab my ass, Harry. You can do it.”

Harry's breath caught as she said that, his eyes darkening slightly behind his glasses. He had definitely been thinking about it, doubted there was anyone who saw it and didn’t want to, but he hadn't wanted to overstep. Hearing her give him permission was like a green light and he couldn't help himself. His hands squeezed her hips before slowly sliding down to grip her ass, his fingers spreading out to knead the soft flesh. "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse. "You're so soft."

His grip on her ass tightened reflexively as he pulled her more firmly against him, a low groan escaping his lips. The heat of her pressed deliciously against his hardening cock, and he couldn't help but roll his hips slightly, seeking friction. "Shit, Y/N...Sorry. I don't want to get carried away." He breathed, his face flushing darker. Here he was, rock hard with his best friend in his lap, from a little ass grab. It was embarrassing how quickly he had gotten worked up- But God, it felt good.

There was a sigh out of her mouth as she felt him start to relax and do what he wanted to do. This was closer to where she wanted him to get, but she hadn’t expected it to feel as good just being rubbed over his lap. “There you go- it’s okay.” She whispered. “That’s hot. You want to show her that you’re eager for her.” With her grip in his hair, she tugged his head back slightly to look at his pink cheek. “You’re a faster learner, I know. But you remember what I told you? Try kissing my neck. I told you the spots I like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as she tugged on his hair, his throat exposed to her. "Yeah. I can do it. S’long as you feel good, m’happy..." He whispered, his voice rougher than she had ever heard it. Leaning into her touch, he let her guide his face into her neck and followed instructions quickly to press open mouth kisses to her skin. He started at the spot just below her ear, as she had told him about, sucking gently on the soft skin. His hands continued to grab at her ass, pulling her flush against him as he kissed and sucked his way down her neck.

The kisses trailed lower, his lips hot and damp against her neck. Each press of his mouth made chills rise on her skin, his stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. As he sucked gently on a particularly sweet spot, she couldn't help but tip her head to give him better access, a soft gasp escaping her lips. None of this had been expected, but liking his mouth on her skin hadn’t been. Maybe it really was just the fact it had been a while but… it felt better than her last hookup. 

Harry was her friend and she trusted him. She felt safe, and that probably made her feel a lot more comfortable, just as it probably did for him. But having his hands all over her was something her whole body was responding to.  A quick learner, he had realized how much she liked feeling the friction and did something about it. His strong hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her over his lap and letting feel the throb of him through their clothes.

He could feel her getting heavier in his lap, her breath growing shallow as he continued his adoration of her neck. It felt amazing, yes, but he was in a bit of awe. Harry really should have known that Y/N didn’t half ass anything. She was thorough in everything she did- apparently it extended to teaching him how to please a woman. His hands roamed freely as he adjusted, taking a risk in spreading her legs wider over his lap to better fit her between his thighs.

 "Am I doing okay?" He mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled. "Is this warming you up enough? Or should I be doing more?" His fingers flexed on her hips before sliding down, spreading out to rest on her thighs.

“You’re doing good.” The thickness in her throat made her voice a bit raspier, unsure how she had managed to let herself get to this point. It felt really fucking good. His hands strong and so fucking big, splaying over her thighs. The heat of them seeming to radiate through her skin and down to her bones, she wanted to lean into that touch.

 God, she was touch deprived. 

He had done a good job in making her panties damp and it felt almost embarrassing that a little bit of heavy petting and kissing on the neck had her pussy throbbing, but she couldn’t exactly deny it. Lightly rubbing herself against him again to get more of the friction her body was demanding, she closed her eyes and let her head lean back before she admitted it to him. “You’re making me wet.”

His whole body seemed to tense up at her whispered admission, his hands flexing on her as he took a breath. "You are?" He whispered back, his voice not able to contain his surprise. He had hoped he was doing something right- especially after all the apparent failures he’d had- but hearing that she was wet from just his touch and kisses was... something else. He wasn't used to being this effective. His ego swelled slightly, making him bolder. "Can I... touch more?" He asked hesitantly, his fingers inching higher up her thighs. "Can I feel what I’m doing to you?"

His words had her gritting his teeth. Where the fuck did that come from, and why did it made her throb? Letting out a breath through her nose, she opened her eyes to look at him. It shocked her a little, seeing his lips swollen and eyes a little hazy, glasses a tiny bit crooked. He looked disheveled in a way he usually didn’t. Of course he had always been hot but this look in particular, knowing it was caused by her specifically? It fueled her ego too. 

“Y-Yeah.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, you can. That’s what I’d tell you to do next. You have good instincts.” It was a mystery to her how Harry, who was good at almost everything, had struggled to make a girl cum- but she was the teacher now. “You can slip your hand into the waistband.”

"Fuck. Thank you." Harry muttered under his breath. He couldn't believe he was actually about to touch Y/N intimately, after all these years of being just friends… It was insane. He wasn’t unable to see how insanely fucking hot she was, that had never been an issue. He’d had a few questionable wet dreams about her- but the actual idea of ever touching her hadn’t come up until recently, and he was liking it a bit more than he probably should be for a lesson.

 With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped one large hand down the front of her joggers, sliding it along her stomach until he reached the top of her panties. "Can... can I? Under them?" His breath was warm against her neck as he asked permission, albeit a bit jumbled, waiting for her nod before slowly slipping under the final piece of fabric that kept him from her most intimate place.

At her nod, he released a deep breath through his nose. His heart was racing as he slowly pushed his hand under her panties, the back of his fingers brushing against the soft, damp fabric. He could feel the heat emanating from between her legs, his own body responded accordingly. His cock was pulsing in his briefs, surely starting to make a bit of a mess. "Holy shit." Harry breathed, his voice shaking slightly as he explored her with his hand. His fingers dipped lower, feeling the slickness coating her folds. “You really are fucking soaked.” Tilting his head up with an awed smile, he met her eyes. “I did that t’you?”

“Mhm.” It felt slightly harder to breathe as she looked at his eyes, seeing the pride in his face, feeling his fingers cupping her wet pussy and giving a little squeeze. It had her inhaling sharply, fingers on his shoulder digging into his shirt. “You did. I- I want you to show me what you do when you get to this stage with the girls you hook up with.” It was taking everything in her not to rock against his hand, staying still as she tried to ground herself.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to mimic what he thought he had seen in porn or heard from his friends. He had forgotten what to do. Another symptom of his damn nerves taking over. He roughly spread her lips apart, his thumb pressing against her clit as his middle finger pushed inside her soaked pussy. "Shit... I'm... I'm not really sure what to do..." He admitted, his voice shaking as he started to rub her clit in slightly sporadic circles while thrusting his finger inside her. It was clumsy and a bit rough, but he was trying his best.

“Okay- alright. Stop.” Making sure to keep her voice soft and not like she was scolding him, she held his face in her hands. “You’re jumping right into it a bit too fast, Honey.” The nickname fell from her lips a bit too easily but she decided to ignore that. “You need to ease into it. Find a rhythm. Pull your fingers out.” She instructed, gently stroking over his cheekbone. It was obvious he was embarrassed from his flushed cheeks, and she didn’t want that. He wasn’t doing too badly, but he’d asked for a lesson. That’s what she was going to give him.

 “Hey… Look at me.” Tilting his chin up, she gave him a soft smile. “S’okay, Har. You came to me for help. I’m gonna help you. You didn’t do anything inherently wrong.” Still, she could see he felt some type of way about it, and she knew he needed a bit more comforting. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his in a soft peck. It was more intimate than it should have been, but she was again, going to ignore that. “Hi.” Smoothing the skin under his eye, she gave him a giggle. “Okay, so… You’ve got incredible hands. They’re so nice… and I know you can be good with them. So let’s start slow, okay? Do slow circles over my clit with your thumb. Nice n’gentle.”

His shoulders had dropped slightly after her small kiss, ignoring the flutter he’d felt in his chest from it. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten, like he had failed the test- but this was Y/N. Y/N was safe, she was kind despite how blunt she was, and she was helping him. There was no evidence of her making fun of him in her tone, simply sweet. Unusual, maybe, but it seemed like she knew what she needed. 

"Okay." He mumbled softly, his cheeks slightly less red. Her compliments helped a bit- He had always had confidence issues when it came to this. "Like this?" He asked shyly, his large thumb slowly making small, loose circles over her clit. He was careful to keep his touch gentle like she asked, watching her face for any signs that he was doing it wrong again.

He felt her body tense pleasantly at his touch, a soft exhale escaping her lips. Encouraged by her response, he maintained the slow circles, his thumb brushing over her clit with deliberate gentleness. Her hips gave a tiny involuntary roll against his hand, seeking more of the pleasant friction. Harry's fingers twitched slightly, wanting to increase his pace but remembering her instruction. He resisted the urge, keeping the rhythm maddeningly slow.

“Yeah. That’s so nice.” She whispered. It was experimenting, letting him explore and get the hang of it. “Every woman is different. Some people will want it faster, some will want it rougher, but I like this to start.” She admitted, leaning into him. “Here.” Dragging the cropped top off of her body, she exposed the lacy bralette she had heard good reviews for to him. It was quite nice, holding her tits up in a way she hasn’t expected- but she’d chosen correctly today, unknowing that a man would be able to see it firsthand. “When you’re doing this, you keep kissing her. Licking. Sucking her nipples, if she’s into it.”

His eyes roamed over her bralette-clad breasts, the delicate lace contrasting with her soft, smooth skin. He felt his mouth watering, the urge to taste her growing stronger as he watched them move as she breathed- but thankfully, thank god, she had given the go ahead to touch. To taste. "Okay. I definitely can do that." He murmured, his thumb continuing its slow circles on her clit as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone.

His lips trailed lower, his kisses growing more intentional. The lace of her bralette tickled his lips as he worked his way down. He could see her nipples hardening beneath the fabric, making his mouth water. His thumb continued its steady, slow rhythm on her clit, causing her to shift slightly in his lap. It was surreal to feel her breathing, hear it so close up as he kissed over her pounding heart. 

He was doing this to her. Harry was making her wet, making her squirm. The confidence the breathy moan she let out had him pushing for more. With one hand, he gently pushed the lace down to expose one breast fully, making her gasp softly. His lips immediately found her hard nipple, surrounding it completely and sucking gently.

“Oh, Jesus.” The words were pathetically, a mewl that came from the back of her throat as his hot tongue lapped over her swollen nipple. The suction was light, soft, just like his thumb on her clit- and it was enough to make her feel like she was going insane. “T-That’s really fucking nice.” She praised, raising her hand to card it through his fluffy curls. He must have just washed them, they always looked pretty when he did.

Hearing her moan like that, praising him so freely, sent a jolt straight to his cock. He hummed around her nipple, the vibrations deliberate this time. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud before he switched to sucking harder, desperate to elicit another gorgeous noise from her.

“Yeah- like that.” Rocking her hips slightly into his hand, she pulled his head closed onto her breast. It felt too good, too hot to stop. Yeah, this was a lesson, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy teaching him. “Some girls won’t get much enjoyment out of this. Their nipples aren’t sensitive to it as much. If they aren’t responsive, you can keep it moving- or a-ask them if they want you to keep going.” Her voice was higher in pitch than she had meant for it to be but it wasn’t possible for her to control that right now. “I really like it, though. So it’s doing the job. You can rub my clit a little harder- give it more pressure.”

Her words had him nearly purring around her nipple. The little thrill went up his spine as her hips rolled into his hand, knowing that now he had a decent idea of what he was doing and could feel less nervous about it. Listening to instructions like he had promised he would, Harry added more pressure to his thumb, rubbing it harder over her little bundle of nerves. It was impossible not to feel her getting slicker against his palm, her breast filled his mouth perfectly, his tongue swirling around the peak before sucking it back between his lips. Almost overstimulation for his mind, but he wanted to keep going. He was trying his best to be good with his hands- he really was- But damn. Her body was so responsive.

Y/N wanted to continue this as long as she could. She wanted to feel him get more and more confident with it, but he seemed to have a grasp on it. There would probably be… a few times where they’d get to do this, and if she was honest? If they kept this up, she was going to cum and be too sensitive for his mouth. And by the way he kissed? She wanted to feel his mouth. 

“Mmmm.. Har, Honey.” She whispered, gently tugging his mouth off of her tits with a gentle tug of his hair. “Hi. Hello.” It was stupidly cute, the slightly lost look on his face. “S’okay. You were doing good. A bit too good actually. I just think that we should get to teaching you how to eat pussy. I’ll cum if you keep going.”

He blinked rapidly, a slightly dazed look on his face as he tried to process why he’d been pulled away when he’d obviously been making her feel good. It felt incredible to have her nipple in his mouth, hearing her soft noises of pleasure. The haze of lust in his mind slowly cleared at her words, realizing she was probably right, even if he selfishly wanted to keep going. "Oh..." He murmured softly, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. "Right. Okay." He adjusted his glasses, trying to regain some semblance of focus.

“Good.” She stroked his hair back with a tender smile, pulling him to kiss her again before taking a look at his face. “I’m gonna lay back, like this.” Sliding off his lap, Y/N settled against the arm of the couch pulling a pillow to rest her head on. The position had her sitting up slightly, but gave a more relaxed vision. Hopefully that would have him feeling calmer. “And you’re gonna lay between my legs once I get these off.” Her bottoms needed to get off immediately. 

When he sat back, she tugged on the waistband and squirmed to get them off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor- along with her panties. There wasn’t much hesitance in showing her body to him. Y/N liked her body, she felt proud of it, and she embraced it. There was always those nerves though, being intimate with someone new- even if it was for a lesson. Spreading her thighs, she placed a hand over her cunt and motioned for him to lay down. “Do you remember what I said, Honey? About teasing?”

He nodded slowly, trying to remember all the instructions she had given him. "Tease first..." He murmured softly, adjusting his glasses nervously as he positioned himself between her thighs. Using his elbows to keep him up a bit, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched her spread them wider for his body to fit between. "Kiss, lick, don't go straight for the... the main event?" He asked hesitantly, his hands resting on her inner thighs.

“Very good.” Her face lit up as he looked at her for reassurance. “It’s the little things that get me. You know? The soft brushing of fingers on the thighs, the stomach, right above my pussy…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Kiss my thighs, Har. Can you do that for me?” Taking her hand off her cunt, she properly revealed it for the first time for his eyes to see.

Harry felt the breath catch in his throat as the sight of her bare pussy caught him off guard. It wasn’t lost on him that he was very lucky to be able to experience this. Y/N was beautiful and he adored her, but there was a new appreciation in him for how kind she was being. This wasn’t something you could just ask anyone. "Fuck..." He whispered, his hands squeezing her inner thighs gently as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin. "Like this?" He murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin, his lips brushing over the crease where her leg met her hip.

“Mhm.” 

He could see her body relax into the touch, her thighs parting a bit more to give him better access. Her skin was so soft and warm under his lips, and he could smell her scent growing stronger the closer he got to her center. Harry took his time, pressing gentle kisses along her inner thighs, his hands brushing along the skin in a featherlight touch. He could hear her breathing growing a bit shallower, her chest rising and falling a bit faster. It emboldened him to continue, to keep teasing her like she had told him to.

"You're... you're doing so good." Y/N breathed out, one hand coming to rest in his hair as she spread her legs wider, hooking one over his shoulder. She could feel herself growing wetter with each kiss, more aroused knowing he was taking his time to learn her body. Such a good little student. "Lower. Just a bit..." she whispered, guiding his head with gentle fingers. Her other hand drifted down to her breast, plucking at her nipple as she watched him between her legs. "Kiss right above my cunt.”

Eagerly following her guidance, he moved up to press a soft kiss just above her pussy, his lips brushing against her soft curls. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, smell her arousal. It was intoxicating, and he found himself nuzzling into her a bit, his nose pressing against her. "Fuck, you smell so good..." he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. He pressed another kiss right at the top of her slit.

“Oh fuck- that was good.” She gasped in surprise. “That’s filthy. Rubbing yourself against me but… it’s so hot. Showing how eager you are to make the person you’re gonna pleasure, it’s really sexy.” Brushing his hair out of his face, she felt the heat of his breath over her cunt. “Tell me you want to eat me out. Talk to me.”

"I do..." His voice came out huskier than he'd planned, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before focusing back on her exposed pussy. "Fuck, Y/N... I really want t’taste you." Without waiting for further instruction, he used his fingers to spread her open for him and pressed a gentle kiss directly to her clit, making her gasp loudly. "You're so fucking wet… Can’t believe I did this." His finger traced down her slit slowly, as if showing instead of telling how aroused she was.

"Your cunt is fucking glistening. I can already tell your pussy is sweet..." He muttered against her skin, his tongue peeking out to give her one soft lick. Tasting her for the first time, savoring the flavor on his tongue, he was proving that fact. She was perfect to taste- a pussy like this deserved the best of the best, and he wanted her to show him exactly what she liked. Y/N moaned loudly, her hips rolling slightly, a clear indication that she liked what he was doing. "Yeah? You like that? S’good for you?" Harry asked, his voice encouraging as he licked her again, this time a bit slower, applying a bit more pressure.

“Uh-huh… Shit.” She cussed, feeling his tongue swipe up and over her clit. “D-Do what you want. Let me see where it’s going wrong because right now from my perspective, you’re doing perfectly.” Why would he even need help? Was it a ploy to fuck her? That was doubtful considering Harry really, really wasn’t like that. The worst part was that she was liking it a lot more than she was supposed to. If she was training him on how to pleasure how she liked it, it was going to be hard not to lose it.

Harry smiled slightly at her words, feeling a bit more confident in his actions. He started slowly, his tongue flicking out to lap at her gently, his fingers keeping her open for him to fully access her. He could feel her wetness spread onto his chin, and he couldn't help but push himself, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking softly. He looked up at her, checking her face for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

He was learning, trying to remember how she had said she liked it. His tongue swiped up again, swirling around her entrance slowly before pushing inside slightly. "Like this?" He mumbled softly, his chin wet with her juices. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, his touch soft. He was tentative, like he was scared of messing up. "Is this good?"

“I.. Normally would say that’s a bit fast to push your tongue in but fuck, that felt nice.” She giggled breathlessly. “Here…” Her fingers were careful as she took his glasses off and tossed them further down the couch so they wouldn’t get in the way- or worse, crushed. “Wanted to see those pretty eyes.” Her fingers kept the hair out of his eyes as she felt a few kisses over her mound, in the thatch of curls above her cunt. His face was slightly wet, but it was erotic. “That feels so nice. The kisses…” She hummed. “You have the instincts. Don’t think too much about it. Doing things like that- That’s good. Just make me feel good. See what I respond to.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her, surprised by the sudden loss of his glasses but pleased when he realized she liked his eyes. His face flushed slightly at the praise, his tongue darting out to lick over her clit hesitantly. "Okay. You’ll tell me if y’don’t like it, yeah?" He asked, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her pussy, the sound drowning out the tv playing at a lowered volume.

She nodded slowly, watching him between her thighs. He was almost shy like this, his face buried in her pussy as he kissed around it sweetly. His lips were soft, his kisses unhurried. He spread her wider with his thumbs, his tongue poking out to give her one slow lick from bottom to top. Her hips shifted slightly, chasing the feeling.  "You taste so good." He mumbled softly, his voice sending vibrations against her. “I didn’t expect you t’get so wet for me. Soaking my chin. I love it.”

His words seemed to have struck a chord in her, judging by how sharply her breath hitched and her legs involuntarily tried to press around his head. She visibly flustered, clearly flattered by his filthy compliments- and shocked. Had he always had that in him? "Harry..." She whimpered, the sound of his wet mouth against her flesh combined with his sweet, dirty words making her pulse against his tongue. "You... should be careful with that mouth." She whispered, her hand tangling in his hair again, guiding him slightly without putting any pressure.

He chuckled softly, the vibrations traveling pleasantly through her core. "Why's that?" He murmured teasingly against her skin, his tongue darting out for another long, slow lick. He could feel her practically melting under his mouth, her thighs quivering slightly. This was how it was supposed to be. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel as anxious with her, they had repor, he truly trusted her- but it felt like he had a better sense of her body and what she liked. 

She’d given him clues and tips, but he was finding out on his own what she liked. It was something he was enjoying the longer he did it, feeling more eager to bury his face in her pretty pussy and never leave. Especially when he felt her hand tighten in his hair and her body shift to get more. "Worried I might make you cum too hard?" His tone was playful, a little more confident now, and that was dangerous for her. Feeling him nipp gently at her clit, soothing it with a flicker of his tongue immediately after was enough proof of that. Looking up at her he tried to see if that was okay, but the noise she let out had him feeling fairly sure it was.

"Fuck, Harry... You smartass.” The giggle turned into a pitched moan very quickly after though, her back arching as he sucked on her clit in retaliation, her hips rolling against his mouth. Harry could feel her getting closer, her pussy getting wetter. He knew the signs, she was teaching him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he licked into her eagerly. She was so responsive, her body reacting to his every move. He felt powerful, in control- and it was a heady feeling.

"Jesus, your pussy is perfect." He mumbled between kisses, not caring if she could hear him. He could see her getting close- her thighs trembling, her breathing quickening, and the way her fingers were now tight in his hair. That was his goal. He wanted to make her cum so fucking bad it hurt. His cock was a mess in his trousers but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make her cum, hard. He wanted to clean it up as he made himself messy. "Do you want my fingers inside you?" He whispered, not missing a beat with his mouth returning to his suckling. He kept the pace steady but increased the pressure just slightly, wanting to hear her response.

"Yes..." Y/N  breathed out the single word, squirming helplessly against his face. His mouth felt incredible and he obviously felt better about what he was doing now, taking more risks that only worked out in her favor. "So good, honey. You’re doing so good, your mouth is perfect." 

How had he been bad with these other women? All it took was a little bit of instruction with a soft voice and he was licking into her like she was his last fucking meal. 

She gasped, her nails nearly digging into his scalp as he slipped one finger inside her easily. "Your fingers are so big. Holy shit..." She panted, grinding down on his hand. "More..." She begged, knowing damn well she hadn’t wanted to be this needy for it but god damn. He was a good student. A very fast learner. "Please." The woman’s voice cracked with need. "Harry, please..."

He curled his fingers slightly inside her, hitting that spot he’d read about but had never actually found on a woman before. He must be doing it right, because she was practically sobbing his name, her hips bucking against his hand. He added another finger, stretching her slowly but surely, his tongue never stopping its slow, deliberate lapping. 

It was obvious what she liked, what made her feel good, and he wanted to keep doing it. Memorize it so he knew how to do it perfectly next time- or continue practicing until he had it down. His head felt fuzzy with the need to get her there, to make her feel hot under the skin like he had been clueless about before. "Look at me." he mumbled against her, his voice muffled but insistent. He wanted to see her face contort with pleasure, wanted to watch her get closer.

It felt like her entire world had narrowed down to his fingers inside her and his tongue on her clit. It really had been far too long since she’d been touched and even longer since she had been eaten out with this amount of vigor. Maybe it hadn’t ever happened prior to him, but her brain wasn’t fully working. She was so close, teetering on the edge and he just... he just kept pushing her. Adding more, curling just right, licking and sucking in a rhythm that seemed designed to drive her insane. 

Y/‘ couldn’t see him fully, not with his face buried smugly between her thighs, but she managed to lift her head, her eyes finding his own as he had demanded. The intensity in his gaze, the desperate need, it was too much. “Just like that, you’re going t’make me cum. Just like that, keep it like that- fuck.” Her groan seemed angry but it was anything but. She was worked over and sulking at how good it felt. “Shit, you love eating pussy. Don’t you, Harry? Just needed s-someone to show you how they like it.”

"Fuck yeah." He breathed against her, his eyelids drooping with pleasure at her accusation. He loved this, every fucking second. The slick sounds of her arousal, the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, the taste, how she grabbed at his hair, the sounds she made, the changes in her breathing, her squirming, the way her words slurred a little bit, the pulsing against his tongue. 

God. Harry fucking loved it- he just didn’t know it could be this good. Addicting.

The vibrations as he groaned happily between her lips had to be adding something extra. "Knew I'd love it. Jus’ want to be able to make you feel good."

"Cum on my face baby, okay? Just let go. I wanna taste you." He whispered hoarsely, pressing a sloppy kiss to her clit before sucking it back into his mouth. His fingers curled again and again inside her, hitting that elusive spot over and over as she dripped all over his fingers and down the back of his hand. He wanted to make her shatter, wanted to feel her cum all over his face and fingers like he had been working toward.

There was no way she could even respond properly. The constant stimulation to her g-spot, his repeated sucking on her clit, the way he sloppily ate her cunt with little regard of the mess she was making on his face- the only thing he seemed to give a fuck about was making her cum. Who was she to take that from him?

 Her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a long, drawn-out moan. It was a sound of pure pleasure, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensation of him working her over. She came hard, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as she gushed all over his face and hand. Her hand was tight in his locks, tugging as a garbled moan left her mouth and she attempted to writhe. He kept her held still as he moaned loudly against her.

In fact, Harry didn’t stop. Even as she came, he kept eating her, his fingers still curled inside her as he lapped up her cum, cleaning her up. He was fucking starving for it, for the taste and the sound and the feeling of her losing control. He sucked and licked her pussy, feeling it spasming occasionally, until he was certain he had cleaned up every last drop- And her weak push of her hand against his head. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, his face and hand coated in her.

She was a goddess, slumped back against the cushions with a flushed, dazed expression. Harry couldn't help but kiss her inner thigh as it twitched before wiping his mouth. "Fuck, you’re amazing." The man murmured. Crawling up her body, he claimed her lips in a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. “Thank you.” It was mumbled between lazy kisses. “Thank you, Thank you.”

His hands roamed over her as he continued to kiss her sloppily, his body heavy on top of hers. He was still fully dressed, his erection painfully trapped in his pants. "Y/N... I’m sorry, but can I?" He asked softly, his fingers already working at the button of his jeans, his intent clear. "I gotta cum. Can I cum on your cunt? Please?” If he wasn’t so horny he would be embarrassed for doing this, but he was losing it. When it died down, he would definitely be embarrassed for how insane he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the lack of blood flow to the head, it was going directly to the other.

“Shit.” Y/N laughed weakly, her body feeling like pins and needles as it came down from the orgasm. The idea was one she had considered, especially with how good he had listened- a reward. “Yeah, Honey. As a reward.” She sighed, leaning her head up further. “I wanna watch.”

He almost whined at her words, practically tearing his jeans open wide enough to pull out his stiff cock. He pushed his pants down towards his calves, staying there between her spread legs. His hand gripped his dick tightly, squeezing as he looked up at her face from his spot between her legs. "Yeah- yeah, please watch. I love being watched.” His hips moved forward unconsciously as he ran his cock over her, the head of his dick smearing pre-cum all over her cunt.

“Cute little exhibitionist.” Y/N cooed, running her hand over her stomach. “Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty cock, but it looks like it hurts.” Her lips formed a soft pout. “Stroke yourself and cum all over that pussy, Harry.”

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chanted under his breath, his hand moving faster over his shaft. With his tip pressing against her clit, he ran it up and down her slit. "You're so pretty. Your cunt is beautiful- all of you, so fucking gorgeous." He complimented her, his words coming out in short gasps. It was so hot, the way her lips spread around him, how she looked all fucked out and messy from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over you, baby."

Y/N looked up at him with a soft, encouraging smile, her eyes staring into his with that tinge of desire. "Cum for me, Harry. Cum all over my pretty little pussy. I wanna see it, I wanna see you lose it." Her hand moved down to spread herself, holding herself open for him. "You've been so good, so obedient. You deserve it. Such a good student, a fast learner… You can have it. Cum on my cunt." Her voice was gentle but commanding, the perfect blend of sweet and dirty that had him right on the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N..." Harry whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as her words pushed him over the edge. With a final thrust of his hips, he came undone. He felt the first spurt of his hot, sticky cum hit her pussy lips, coating them in his release. He groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he pumped out rope after rope of cum, covering her cunt completely. "Oh my god... Oh my god."

Even as he finished cumming, a few last spurts dribbling out to make a mess across her lower stomach, he couldn't look away from where his cum coated her pussy lips, right in her thatch curls and the surrounding skin. It was obscene, filthy, and he loved it. Y/N had made him lose his mind a bit, but he didn’t really want to find it.

Breathing heavily, he finally met her gaze with a slightly embarrassed but mostly pleased grin. "Holy fuck, that was hot." He murmured, swallowing hard. "Never done that before. Came so fucking hard..."

"Good, cause you made a mess." She giggled, watching him as his chest heaved. The sight of his stomach and abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat- his hair was ruffled and he looked like he’d had a workout instead of jerking off on her body. "You like that, I think. Making a mess." She asked softly, watching as he continued to stroke himself slowly, milking himself. Her eyes were drawn back to his dick. It really was beautiful- and really fucking big. “Where the hell were you hiding that? God damn.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment, glancing down at his slowly softening dick with a smirk. "Guess I just needed the right inspiration, huh?" He teased lightly, finally releasing his grip on himself and leaning forward to rest his forearms on either side of her head, caging her in slightly. His face was mere inches from hers now, his glasses gone and his hair disheveled in the sexiest way possible. “Just need t’do this before we clean up and act normal again. Don’t yell at me.”

His mouth claimed hers slowly, lips moving softly against hers. He licked into her mouth slowly, like he was savoring her taste, his body half covering hers. His hand cupped her cheek as he deepened the kiss slowly, like he was trying to imprint himself onto her. Just as quick as it started though, it was over. She shouldn’t have been so sad about that. He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes opened slowly to find her watching him softly, their lips still wet and swollen from the kiss. He grinned slightly, licking his lips again. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, feeling dazed. Who the fuck was this? And why did he kiss so good it made her toes curl? Who was this and what had they done to her best friend? “I think your problem isn’t that you don’t have skill. Naturally you seem to get it. I think you’ve just gotten into your own head and you think too much.” She had been a safe person and it was easier for him to lose that anxiety with her, knowing she had already agreed to teach him. 

“It can be hard to perform if you’re not able to properly get into it. Your dick can be hard as nails, but your mind not being in it will be a mood killer and they’re gonna know.” The smile on her face was slightly sad but she knew it was what he had to hear. “Because honestly? I haven’t orgasmed like that in ages. All it took was a few tweaks and you had it down. Maybe you just aren’t a hookup guy. Did that feel a lot different than the other people?” Maybe he needed someone who could openly communicate. The expectation of someone just knowing wasn’t always fair. 

"Yeah." He hesitated, shifting slightly to prop himself up on one elbow next to her. His other hand traced patterns on her stomach absentmindedly. "It was... different." He seemed to struggle with the words for a moment. "With those other girls, I was always nervous. Overthinking every single fucking thing. Like you said." He glanced at her face, a slight blush forming across his cheeks. "With you... it felt natural. Real. And fuck, listening to you moan like that… Where did those lungs come from?"

“You freak!” She laughed, pushing his shoulder to get him to sit up. Adjusting her bralette back over her breasts she didn’t bother with the bottoms yet, because she really needed to go clean up. Secretly she was pleased that she had been different. It was so cliche to say it, but she wanted to be different than them. She just… wasn’t quite sure why yet. Her brain hadn’t come back down to earth fully and she couldn’t be bothered to truly question it. “You won’t need many lessons on how to pleasure a woman with results like that, I’m telling you that. Good job.” Reaching out, she squished his cheeks with a soft coo before he shot her a look.

"Oi!" He laughed, swatting her hand away playfully but with a big smile on his face. "Don't treat me like a puppy. And..." He hesitated, reaching up to cup her face gently, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Did it really feel that good? I mean." His voice dropped to a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Am I actually good at this stuff?" For someone who had just made her orgasm so hard, he suddenly seemed insecure again. Like he needed validation. "I know you don’t lie like that, but it just feels weird. Cause everyone else seemed disappointed… I thought I’d be completely awful.”

“Oh, H.” She frowned at his vulnerability. “It was really good for me. I think maybe you just need some lessons on how to let go and relax when you’re being intimate. And I’m happy to teach you that.” Brushing her hand over his stubble she gave his chin a pinch. “Trust me. I’d tell you if you needed a lot of work. It can be hard for women to cum from oral sometimes too. It’s hit or miss for me, and you had me cumming so easily so, I would say it was probably a mix of feeling safe and you having some good natural instincts you couldn’t tap into before because you were anxious and your brain was in overdrive.” Pulling him into a hug, she squeezed him lightly as she inhaled his scent. He smelled like mint and sex, with a tinge of laundry detergent. Appropriate. 

“When I’m done with you, we’ll have it all squared away and figured out. Okay? Don’t think about those times. Think about the fact you’re gonna get to fuck your really hot best friend.” Standing up from the couch with a laugh and a pat to his head, she walked to the bathroom to get herself clean- and take a minute to breathe. Her chest was doing a weird thing it hadn’t before and she didn’t want to think about it. “Hey, can you order something from that cookie place to be delivered while I shower please? Use my phone, my card is already in the app. Thank youuuu.”

He watched her leave, a small smile on his face at her words. It was a relief to hear that he wasn't completely incompetent. Flopping back against the cushions, he stared at her ceiling fan as it whirred around with a content sigh. 

As requested, he ordered a batch of her favorite cookies from the nearby bakery, adding a special request for extra chocolate chips with a small chuckle. She had ordered quite a few times recently, so he had tried to replicate it while adding white choc macadamia for himself. A classic, even if Y/N would wrinkle her nose for them sharing a box.

After submitting it for the delivery, he found himself humming softly, a warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of learning more from her. That had been so good, he felt so relieved that he wasn’t defective- but he did have to wonder how he was going to be this comfortable with anyone else. Y/N was easy to unwind around. It was hard to imagine him getting as comfortable with anyone else in the way he was with her.

Getting closer to her in a vulnerable and intimate way was sure to grow their friendship. He couldn’t really see it backfiring. Their friendship was too strong.

 Right?

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Okay uhm 😌

Can I request something where the reader is afraid of storms and thunders? And she has been anxious because of the weather warnings. In the evening it starts to thunder and Bucky is just there for her and comforts/soothes her? With a lot of cuddles/hugs and kisses. He is just the sweetest and he wants that she feels safe. Please? Thank you ❤️

🌸

Thunderstorm » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky comforts you during a thunderstorm.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request 🌸 anon🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You’ve been scared and anxious all day. You got a few weather notifications on your phone about a thunderstorm that’s coming sometime tonight. It’s not a really bad thunderstorm. It’s just a normal thunderstorm. You don’t like thunderstorms. You never did. Bucky doesn’t know that you’re scared of thunderstorms. You made sure to keep your phone charged and texted Bucky every so often while he’s at work.

You: What time do you get off work?

Bucky🩵: 7:30pm

You checked the weather alerts. The thunderstorm starts a little bit before 7:30pm. It made you even more anxious.

You: Do you think you can come home earlier?

Bucky🩵: I wish I could, but I can’t. I’ll be home before you know it

You: Ok

Bucky🩵: I love you, doll❤️

You: I love you too, Bucky Bear❤️

You let out a shaky breath as you shut your phone off. You took a quick glance out the window. You then turned the TV on and put a random movie on, trying to focus on something other than the thunderstorm.

As it got closer to the time it was about to thunderstorm, you got another weather alert on your phone, saying that it was going to start raining in a little bit, along with thunderstorms. A small whimper left your lips. You checked what time it is on your phone. It’s a half hour before Bucky gets home from work. You refocused your attention on the TV again.

About 15 minutes later, you heard saw lightning at the corner of your eye and heard a small rumble of thunder, making you jump a bit. You could hear the rain hitting the house. Your hands tightly clutched the blanket that’s draped over your lap. A few minutes later, you heard a loud crack of thunder, making jump more than you did the first time. You then covered your ears to block out the sound of the thunder and closed your eyes.

A half hour goes by and it’s still thunderstorming. The good thing is that Bucky just walked in the door, but you didn’t hear him due to you having your ears covered with your hands.

“Doll, I’m home!” Bucky announces.

Bucky frowns. You usually greet him at the door when he comes home, even if it’s late at night. He heard the TV in the living room. He went to the living room to see you covering your ears and slightly shaking.

“Babydoll?” Bucky gently taps on your shoulder.

You let out a small scream and uncovered your ears. You turned around to see your boyfriend standing behind you. Bucky seen tears on your cheeks.

“Bucky!” You whimpered.

You climbed over the back of the couch and hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go of him. You hid your face in the crook of his neck. You couldn’t care less that his clothes were wet from the rain. You just wanted to be in his arms. Bucky wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together.

“Did something happen when I was at work?” He asks softly.

Another loud crack of thunder erupted outside before you could answer him. Bucky felt you jump in his arms. That was enough to tell him that you’re scared of thunderstorms.

“Are you scared of thunderstorms?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say against his neck.

Bucky rubbed your back and told you that everything was going to be fine as he walked to the bedroom to change out of his rain soaked clothes.

“You’re going to have to let go of me so I can change my clothes.” Bucky says softly.

“No!” You whined.

“It’ll only be for a minute, doll.” He almost whispers.

You loosened your hold on Bucky as he sat you down on the bed and then you let go of him so he can change into more comfortable clothes. As he was doing so, thunder rumbles outside, making whimper.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re scared of thunderstorms?” He asks softly, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I thought you were going to think it was childish of me to be scared of thunderstorms as an adult.” You say quietly.

“I don’t think it’s childish, babydoll.” He says.

“You don’t?” You asked.

“Not at all.” He almost whispers.

Bucky caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your skin. You jumped when a loud crack of thunder erupted outside.

“Focus on me.” Bucky says softly.

You gazed in his blue eyes. It helped you forget about the thunderstorm. Bucky leans in and kisses you passionately. That made you forget all about the thunderstorm.

“How do you feel now?” He asks, putting his forehead against yours.

“Better.” You answered quietly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

You and Bucky went back to the living room to watch a movie. There was small rumbles of thunder here and there throughout the movie and Bucky held you the whole time and said nothing but sweet things to you. You were so focused on the movie that you didn’t see Bucky get on his phone to check the weather.

“Looks like the thunderstorm is just about over.” Bucky says, showing you the weather for the thunderstorm.

“Good.” You say, looking at the weather on his phone.

Bucky shut his phone off and put it on the coffee table next to yours.

“Wanna take a break from the movie and get some snacks and something to drink?” He asks softly.

“Yes please.” You answered.

Bucky paused the movie and you two went to the kitchen for a snack and something to drink.

“Bucky Bear?” You say as Bucky rummages through the pantry for a snack.

“Yea, babydoll?” Bucky asks as he continues to rummage through the pantry.

“Thank you for comforting me during the thunderstorm.” You say.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll. I’m more than happy to help you through anything.” He says softly.

You smiled and stood on your tippy toes and kissed his lips.

“I love you, Bucky Bear.” You almost whispered.

“I love you too, babydoll.” Bucky whispers back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[4rticbolt]

Sub-Tastic? |Master-List|

Zoro, Law, Sanji, Usopp, Luffy x !Fem!Reader, fluff, smut, crack, NSFW, SFW, dacryphillia, fingering, riding, possessiveness

Summary: Headcannons with a loud, chaotic, and mouthy s/o who’s submissive in the bedroom. Plus PDA headcannon’s.

A/N: This is my first time delving into NSFW, so it’s gonna look a bit scratchy. And i’m not completely there with writing it yet, so I’ll be sticking to these type of head-cannons for now.

•-•-•—•-•-••-•-•—•-•—•-•

Trafalgar Law:

• Law would 100% love it.

• He has a dominant undertone, and a sub-like dynamic would work well with his possessiveness.

• At first, he’s used to your chaotic nature. Though, when things take an intimate turn, and you get vulnerable and quiet—he thinks you’re scared. He thinks you’re timid, so he doesn’t push, and he backs off. But, as soon as Law finds out you liked getting like that? OOH—prepare yourself.

• He’s quick to test out how far you’d go.

• Law’s into a little teasing here and there, but not much. Maybe a flicker of degrading, but he wouldn’t go down that route unless you wanted to.

“What happened to acting tough, huh? Where’d that strong girl go?”

“Oh, so you can be such a pain in my ass, but here you are getting all soft? Real adorable, ____.”

• If you ever got quiet or flustered, attempting to hide, it’s not happening. This man wants to see ALL of you, even the flustered bits.

“Don’t hide from me, I wanna see you.”

“Look at me.”

• Later in the relationship, he’d be much more commanding, but that’s only after he adjusts to this new you. He doesn’t hate it, he loves it, he just hates overstepping boundaries and moving too fast.

“Take it off.”

“Turn over.”

“Knees.”

• He could definitely be a lot at times—but wouldn’t we love that.

• Law’s a secluded and protective person, so he doesn’t necessarily care for PDA. You’d have to be the one to initiate it, even if it’s just a held assurance or hug.

• Law would blush, momentarily freezing before tilting his hat to cover his face.

“You’re so clingy . . .”

• His favorite position would have to do with facing you in his room, or in his bed. That possessiveness kicks in, and he wants to be the ONLY one who sees you like that. Much less hear.

• Dacryphillia is his guilty pleasure, it gives him an ego boost he’ll never admit to.

• You’re definitely having a safe word.

• Law initiates intimacy when it’s right, he doesn’t do it out of causality, but pure need. After a fight, or argument, his hands would linger, longer.

• However, if there was a time at dinner where YOU, were the one to initiate it? Sending him a look? He might just perish. He’d choke on his water and excuse himself, making sure to excuse you too.

• There’d be a lot of overstimulation that night.

• Law would play it off, but you getting worked up works him up. He has a hard-time letting go when you’re horny.

• A position that would put him in a choke-hold, would be riding. He’d push up into you, feeling you lean on him, and—gods, this man would have a hard time keeping his hands off you.

• In general, Law loves pinning your hands over your head, and you get bonus points if you squirm.

“Fuck, keep still—I can’t,”

• His pace would stutter, and you getting handsier makes him weak.

• Law loves marking you up. It’d be in more discreet places, but the next morning you’d be questioning how hungry he was.

• Hickeys would be placed along the inner of your thighs, hips, stomach—breasts, anywhere that is hidden underneath your clothes.

• He’d be snarky about it too. If you’re annoying him, or teasing him, he’d prod a certain spot marking your reaction.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. You asked for it.”

Roronoa Zoro:

• Zoro would 100% fw it.

• He is dominant, with at times a cocky attitude—so he’d be a good match. The swordsman isn’t experienced, but he’s quick to learn when it comes to making you feel good.

• Zoro might not understand it at first, he’d call you shy, maybe tease you for it, but once he realized you like having that dynamic? Yeah, no, you’re in for it more than you are Law.

“You like that? Being told what to do?”

“Say it again.”

• The crowsnest is your new favorite place.

• He’s definitely rough with you, especially when it comes to walls. But, at times he can be sweet and gentle. He’s a softie at heart, but that doesn’t mean he won’t push you around.

• Zoro’s favorite position is riding or doing it against something. Either way, he’s just going at it.

“Move your hand.”

“You can take more.”

“Come on baby, you got it.” / “Let me hear you.”

• If you got all whiny? Yeahh, he’s a happy man. To him, it just means you like it, so he’s gonna make you like that a LOT.

• Teasing? He loves it. Zoro likes watching your face get red, and he isn’t ashamed when he does. A soft smirk, with a whisper in your ear would do it. Especially at dinner—or lunch-time, somewhere where he KNOWS he can get you good.

“You’re lucky I like you like that. All quiet and sweet for me.”

“Worried they heard you? Yeah, you were pretty loud.”

• He’d be such a little shit abt it, and worst case was you could never get him back.

• Manhandling. Zoro is just constantly doing it. Grabbing you, pulling you out of the way, dragging you off somewhere, it’s a causal thing between you. Especially in the bedroom.

• Normally, Zoro would be the one to initiate sex, but if there was ever a time it was the other way around? It’d take a moment to recover.

• He’d blush, pause, before smirking and getting in your space. Yeah, you would NOT be in control for long.

“Acting all tough, huh? You won’t even last a few minutes.”

“Don’t run from me, you started this.”

• PDA with Zoro isn’t often. He’s not against it or anything, it just really messes with him. It’s the only time you can get him back for something, because he’ll blush—and try to ignore you, but fail.

• However, if someone’s looking at you? There’s an arm around your waist at all times. Even a begrudging hand-hold every now and then.

• Intimacy with Zoro is sweet, sensual, and deep. He’s the only one who ever sees you like that—and he wants to keep it that way.

• You’re Zoro’s soft spot, and he’s very protective, especially if he’s seen you so wrecked . . . So, at times, it reminds him you’re not the loud rambunctious person you convince yourself to be.

• It triggers something instinctual with the way he acts, and he can’t help it. You’re his, and that’s all there is to it.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now . . . Ugh, fine. Just come here.”

Sanji:

• The cook’s folding first.

• He’s a definite switch, not overly experienced, but he knows what he’s doing.

• Sanji is naturally attentive to begin with, so he picks up on things fast. He he loves to shower you with compliments, and he likes to pick at you, so it wasn’t hard to figure out.

• He LOVES your noises, and he’ll do anything for you to make them.

“Oh, cherie, please don’t hide that from me.”

“Do that again, please.”

“Do you know what you do to me?”

• Sanji is talking you through it the long way, and he’s not stopping till you’re spent. He needs every sound, everything word—just everything.

“You’re too sweet. I’m gonna ruin you.”

• If you ever said his name all whiny and whimpery, he might just pass out. Immediate nosebleed, immediate sit down, it takes him a second to recover.

“Say it again—mom cœur—please, say it again.”

• His fav position is smth like mating press, or just a casual lift to the leg while he looks down at you.

• Sanji loves watching, even when your embarrassed or overwhelmed. Anything is everything to him.

• The cook’s a hand holder, especially over your head or beside it. It’s comforting for him, and it has a lot to do with his gentle charisma. His hands would be running all over you; needing, massaging, holding, as it’s a reminder you’re here, and he isn’t dreaming. Pervertedly anyway.

“You’re so soft, love.”

“So pretty.”

“You’re so tight, baby.”

• And if you ever begged him? He’s losing it to that too. He whimpers, and in that scenario—he’s leaning into the crook of your neck mumbling something intelligible.

“Mmh, love you so so much.”

“You’re too good for me love, don’t beg. I’ll give you anything you want.”

• Sanji’s down for more sensual sex, so I don’t see him doing a quickie or anything rough. He’s very careful with you, and he’s adamant of showering you with love, so something like that isn’t the way for him to do it. (Sorry, I can’t see Sanji ever being rough with a woman, I mean look at him. He’s a lovable loser.)

• You might be able to sneak some time into the kitchen, or in your room (that’s if you have one), but regardless, to him: all that matters is you. So wherever there’s privacy, there’s an optional spot.

• Overall, Sanji’s pathetic for his s/o, so anything you’d ask of him—he’d do.

• This man has hearts in his eyes whenever he looks at you. “Can I get you anything my sweet?”

Usopp:

• Despite Usopp’s shyness and inexperience, he’d love it. Maybe even more than Sanji.

• He’s not possessive like Law, or rough like Zoro, but he is obsessed. Not in a yandere way, just in an innocent and sweet one. He just loves the thought of him making you like that, and he just can’t get enough of it.

• Usopp is not very dominant himself, but if you were ever submissive enough to that point, he’d become an accidental dom. He’d do a lot of things he wouldn’t even realize he’s doing, like man-handling and pushing you down, and still asking if you’re okay.

• Like, where’d that pushover behavior go??

• Usopp doesn’t know what he’s doing, imma be real. He’s a total virgin, and you might need to guide him. But once he finds your spots, yeahh he’s not ever forgetting them.

“You okay? Good, yeah—that’s good, I got you.”

“You sound so pretty.”

• Most things are your ideas and preferences. He runs on your schedule, and has a constant fear of pressuring you. He knows you’re a bit quiet and subtle—and he’s exactly the same.

• Though, when he wants to do something, it’s clear but hinted. He stares, a lot. Without even realizing, and it’s kinda pathetic.

• He definitely zones out. But, who doesn’t love a pathetic smitten, sniper. A win is a win.

“Huh? What are you talking about! I’m not looking at you—I’m uh, looking at the uh—floor! Yeah, counting grooves, yeah, that’s it. Grooves—oh look over there! Haha—anyways!”

• Usopp doesn’t really tease, if anything he freaks out. Mostly on the inside, but sometimes on the outside. Like if you’d melted, or grabbed a sensitive spot when you’re cuddling? Pfft—yeah he’s a blushing mess.

• Even during sex.

• Usopp’s incredibly gentle and tender, even if you want it rough. He’s hesitant, but it’s not because he doesn’t want to do anything with you, it’s just because he’s scared of doing something wrong.

• But if you were whimpery? That might just fix that. It gives him an ego boost, much like Law, but it’s also comforting because he knows what he’s doing is making you feel good.

• He’d get all mushy, and upfront, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer while he works his fingers. Speaking of, that’s one of his favorite things to do, he loves how you feel.

• He loves holding your waist, especially rubbing along your sides where he can see your breasts and face.

• When Usopp gets flustered, it’s by the simplest of things. If you were to causally lean against him? Holding his hand? Immediate blush. Or if you say something unriconically sweet, he’s overloadfully timid.

“Ugh, ___, you’re too good to me. Why are you . . . so sweet?”

“You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“Don’t make that noise—you’re so weird!”

• He’s lying, he loves it. He just doesn’t know how to deal with it. The sniper would never get sick of it.

• Usopp is chill with PDA, he’s touchy touchy believe it or not, even if he’s self-conscious when you do it. A gentle hand would hold yours, or a comforting arm would rest on your shoulders as you walk through public.

• Usopp casually calls you his, he loves showing you off. Not in a trophy-like way, but in a way he’s proud of who he’s with.

“My ____? She’s great! She’s like—really sweet, loud sometimes, but she’s the best!”

“You’re no match for my girlfriend! She’d kick your ass in an instant!”

• He’s speaks very highly of you.

Luffy:

• Wouldn’t expect it from you, but his reaction would be very Luffy. It’d be causal, blunt, sweet—chaotic—you name it, he’s liking it either way.

“Why are you so quiet? Do you . . . oh.”

• It’d definitely be a good match with him.

• Luffy wouldn’t be necessarily rough, I mean, if you asked he’d be like: “I can do that!” and there you go, but he’s a possessive switch. Regardless, he loves making you feel good no matter the dynamics.

• Your captain’s a sucker for your pathetic reactions, and he’s not afraid to manhandle you.

• Luffy doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s gonna act like he is, but he’s inexperienced. You have a lot of questionable and confused moments, though they end up sweet and dorky in the end.

• He’s just a bunch of rubber you’ll love anyways—so it doesn’t really matter. But he does know the gist of intimacy, he’s not completely stupid. Most of the time anyways.

• I don’t see him making any moves at FIRST, but when it happens—it just does. It’s like his sleep schedule, whenever he’s sleepy—he’ll sleep. But, whenever he’s horny, he just is.

• When he’s in the mood, he’s much more touchy, and it’s probably when you’re cuddling. Or he’ll just say something out of the blue.

“I wanna do somethin.”

“M’wanna touch you.”

• It’s mumbled in your chest, or while he’s kissing you, there’s no in between.

• Luffy loves your noises, and only wants them for himself. He’s not the jealous type, but you? Your his, and only his. So only he wants to hear those noises.

“You sound so pretty, do that again.”

“Shh, don’t want anyone else to hear you.”

• His hand would cover your mouth, grabbing and tilting it however he wants it, making sure your looking where he wants you to.

• He’s very handsy, if you haven’t noticed.

• Luffy can be really tender. He’s not all the way across the line of being gentle, because he can get really fast, but cuddly sex is the most you’ll get out of him.

• He’s for whatever positions you are, and he’s really just taking you from wherever. Behind you, infront of you, on the side of you—he literally can’t get enough.

• Luffy is the type to shift mid-way and find a better angle to get at you, so yeah, I’d personally be prepared for a long night. He has a lot of stamina, even if you make him a little weak in the knees.

• He’s 100% an eater, he def craves it. And he isn’t afraid of showing it. From the back—or front, he just loves you all around.

“You taste so good.”

“So wet for me.”

• He ironically has a dirty mouth, but that’s just because he’s blunt and too honest. So most things sound impulsive, but he means it, and there’s no apology or embarrassment for it.

• Luffy loves PDA. Not to the point of kissing you in public, but there’d be a quick peck to the cheek or head. He loves dragging you around, from carrying you on his shoulder, or pulling you by your hand.

“Oi! Come on let’s go—you’re so slow!”

• Much like Usopp, Luffy is very proud of you. He’s proud of who he’s with—as all the one piece men would be, but Luffy especially.

“Shishi! She’s the best, you should meet her sometime! She makes the best snacks!”

“____ goes on adventures with me all the time, we find the coolest stuff—“

• Definitely blabbers on about you.

[melodyofmbaku]

Her House, Her Rules (Smoke Moore x Annie x Stack Moore)

Warning ⚠️: They're a trio.

Preview: Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned.

Word Count: 1.94k

A/N: Ya'll gonna have me writing a fic a day and I kinda love it. Keep the requests coming 🤠💁🏾‍♀️

____

“Now you know she ain’t like you doin’ all that in the house Stack.” Smoke warned his brother as he saw him light up his cigar.

The boys were laid up on different couches opposite each other in just their boxers. It was a sticky southern summer day and they were taking no chances in the hot ass sun. They were both men of the night now. 

Stack had convinced his brother to join him in his world of eternity shortly after he turned. And his brother didn’t decline. Living in a world without his brother was unfathomable. 

When they told Annie, she struggled for a while - she didn’t want that life for herself but still wanted them in her life. Annie chose to love them anyway. She married them anyway. And that’s why she was the love of their life.

Annie was the center of their world, their matriarch, sun, moon, stars and the fucking sky where they were concerned. So when she expressed her dislike of them smoking in the house, it wasn’t a question of if the boys would smoke in the house. The boys, wouldn’t smoke in the house. 

Smoke's warning caused his younger brother to roll his eyes as he took a drag. 

“Well, this my house too.” Stack replied back with an impish grin. 

“Ion want no trouble. You not bouta fuck up my chance of getting some tonight cuz you wanna be smart Stack. Put it out.” The older commanded the younger. 

He shook his head.

“It’s just this one time and she ain’t here so she ain’t gon’ know. Unless you tell her.” Stack stared pointedly at his twin.

“You gon tell her?” He asked with a raised brow before sucking on his cigar once more. The flavour filled his dead lungs and swirled about for a bit before he exhaled. That was one thing he liked about being undead. The mechanics of his body worked differently. There’d be no choking over here. 

“We took vows man why, you always wanna rock the boat?” Smoke asked highly annoyed at his brothers antics. 

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t cheatin’. Just smokin’.” he took a hit of his cigar obnoxiously once more.

“I’m here bored as hell man. Can I live? You want some?” he asked his older brother cheekily.

He received a glare in response. Smoke still — smoked — obviously but just out on the porch, adhering to the rules his lady had for the house. The boys may have been undead, but her potted plants were not.

“I married her too Smoke. So if we gotta problem I’ll take it up with her myself.” 

And that was the thing with Stack, he was all bark and no bite because when his lady pulled up to the house earlier than expected he started singing a very different off key tune.

Annie's melodic laugh carried from the front porch into the house as her footsteps sounded on the wood, getting closer and closer to the door. 

“I’ll see ya’ll later! Next time bring a towel!” She yelled back at the girls whose car squealed off down the dirt road. 

“Shit.” Stack exclaimed frantically trying to stow away the evidence of his crime. 

She wasn’t supposed to be back yet. She said she’d be hanging out with the girls at the lake and coming home in the evening to make dinner. Stack's eyes found the clock, it was not time for dinner. 

The speed in which he ashed the cigar would’ve been comical if it hadn’t left a burn mark on the couch. 

“Fuck!” he spat. He flapped his arms about looking for a solution. 

The front screen door creaked open. She was here. 

Smoke glowered at him before rising to greet their wife. “Hey baby, you had fun playin’ in the water?” He’d angled himself strategically to block her view of Stacks soiled couch. He rubbed his hands on her arms, still a little damp from her dip. 

The move gave his twin enough time to throw a blanket over the mark and kick the cigar box full of evidence under the couch. 

“Yeah. Mary forgot her towel, so we had to cut it short.” 

She stretched up and kissed her husband long and deep before orienting herself around him to find her other one. Once her eyes landed on Stack she grinned. 

She tapped her lips expectantly and Stack closed the distance between them and ducked down before giving her a quick kiss.

She frowned at the small display of affection before she began unpacking her bag and recounting the events of her day. She covered everything from the moment she left the house until the second she landed back on the porch.

The boys typically liked hearing about her days, especially because they didn’t really experience them anymore. They barely saw the people they grew up with now, unless it was in the dark of night. A juke, a party, a hang… then they’d show, because that’s the only time they could.

“I missed y’all.” Annie said before collapsing back into Smoke’s lap on the couch. 

“We missed you too princess.” Smoke responded stroking her arm once more. He was always touching.  

“What’d you guys get into while I was gone?” She asked, beaming across the room at Stack. It was their turn to share with her the events of their day. 

Stack spoke up quickly. 

“We was thinking we change up the sitting room. These couches bout old as hell, I bet Mr. Chow got the connect on somethin’ nice and new for us. What you think?”

She looked around her and she scrunched up her nose.  “What’s wrong with what we got right now?”

“Nothin’!” Smoke replied alarmed and eyes wide.  

Annie furrowed her brow. Maybe they could use a bit of a refresh across the house stylistically. She shared her thoughts contemplatively. 

“Ion know bout somethin’ new. But maybe we could ask the girls at the shop for some new fabric, maybe change that. She’ll be good as new. No need to spend all that extra money.” She gestured to their fully functioning, not that old couch. 

“We got more than enough money.” Smoke reassured her as he always did, rubbing her back. He was the bookkeeper of their little family. He handled the money stuff, he made sure they were always good. Budgets, projections, the whole 9. 

Smoke didn’t wanna get involved in this play at all, but he saw the potential and it could work.  They’d replace the couch, Annie would be none the wiser and he'd still get to draw moans out of her that evening. It was a win-win. He chimed in. 

“Nah mama, we wanna make sure it’s nice and new. Chow got some styles from up North. Lemme talk to him.” Smoke bent down and placed a kiss on her temple once more.

“Let us handle it baby.” Stack said from across the room. 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“Ok.. I’ll leave y’all to it.” She said as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her lovers arms.

Smoke had stepped out that evening. Had to go check in on some business things and he didn’t want to be in the house right now, he was a bad liar and the more he could avoid Annie the better. 

Stack stayed home and kept Annie company but unfortunately the couch incident was steady on his mind. He didn’t like lying to Annie; it didn't sit right in his stomach. That evening she kept smiling at him, feeding him and loving him and it was all too much for him. Why’d she have to be so good? 

She had resigned herself to her room to wind down before bed. Stack couldn’t do it anymore. He had to confess. 

He marched himself over to her room and knocked on her door. The boys made sure the second bedroom was just for Annie. There she could make herself up, or just have a space away from them whenever she needed it. There was only 1 Annie and two of them, they never wanted her to be overwhelmed.

“Come in.” her voice travelled across the room and through the door. 

“Hi baby.” She beckoned him inside. She was laying on her bed, reading a book. He stepped inside the room and shut the door quietly. He stayed at the door though.

One thing Stack couldn’t deal with was anxiety. Annie helped him with that, and alot of his other emotional regulatory issues. He bit his lip. “I can come over there?” 

Annie looked at him funny. “Of course.”

He walked over and kneeled beside the bed. 

“I have something to tell you. Promise me you ain’t gon be mad.”

Her lip quipped up. “That depends on what you bouta tell me Elias.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand shot out to stroke his face lovingly. She had the sweetest spot for him. Elijah was daddy, but Elias? Elias was baby. 

“I promise sweet boy.”

Elias hung his head low before blurting out:

“Ismokedinthehouseandfuckedupyourcouchandimsorry.”

Annies face was deadpan. 

“You wanna say that again, in a language I can understand?”

He took a deep breath and tried again. Eyes still squeezed shut. 

“I was smoking in the house and fucked up the couch and I’m sorry.”

The room was silent for a moment before Annie broke it with her response.

“I know.”

“Now I know you mad —“ he stopped. His face scrunched up and his shoulders dropped the stress leaving his body like a waterfall.

“You know?”

She nodded her head. A small smile tugging on her lips. 

“Smoke told you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then how you know?” He asked bewildered.

“I checked it out when I woke up from my nap on the couch. I lifted up the blanket you threw over the burn when y'all thought you were being slick conspiring in the kitchen. You never use a blanket.”

And it was true. Stack ran hot. Sweaty all the damn time. The fluffy fabric being draped all over his couch was uncharacteristic of him.  

“You not mad?”

“I ain’t happy that you lied to me, but it was creative and I wanted to see how long you could keep it up.” she wore an amused smile on her face. 

He huffed before admitting.  “I been feeling bad all night.”

“Who's fault is that?” She asked raising a brow. 

“You right.”

He paused before her spoke up again. “So you not mad?” He asked to clarify once more. 

“No. I’m not mad Elias. Plus, y'all wanted to replace my couch with no fuss. I ain’t complaining… just know I’ll want new carpets too.” She responded, looking pleased with herself. 

“Good luck explaining that one to your brother with his budgets. Time for you to go Elias. Shut the door on your way out.” she said before turning her back to her husband.

He rose from her bedside and smiled before heading towards the door. 

“Night Annie.”

“Elias?” she called out.

He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob. He was so close. 

“No more smoking in the house. Next time I won’t be as forgiving.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He responded before closing the door quietly and assessing himself. 

He was relieved for a second because he was no longer lying to his wife and she wasn't mad. His chest puffed up. See? Wasn’t nothing to worry about. 

That was before he realized the predicament he was in and he deflated quite shortly after.

He done traded one problem for another. 

New fucking carpets too?

Smoke was gonna whoop his ass. 

---

Taglist

@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy

[fkevin073]

take me like you do in your dreams (excerpt)

so this is a little Mel/Frank thing I've been working on. it's been so long since I wrote a long one-shot and did not get impatient and divide it into chapters so I'm trying to curb that urge by posting a little bit of it hear. so much more to go!!

Summary: It surprises people to learn that Mel King is good at sex.  People in this case being, of course, Frank Langon. 

It starts, of course, on a Tuesday, because everything in his life seems to go to shit on Tuesday’s. The shift from hell was a random Tuesday. Abby told him to fuck off out of their house on a Tuesday, he started rehab on a Tuesday and left on a Tuesday. He even fucked up his back on a Tuesday. 

Frank forgets, every so often, about this random pattern in his life. Enough good things will happen, or he’ll be lost in the rush of kids, dogs and work that his world will seem stable and then something fucked will happen and he’ll remember like a punch to a chest this phenomena and think I must have murdered a bunch of people in my past life on a Tuesday to get all of this fucking karma. 

What happens is this: 

Frank doesn’t have many friends. He used to in college, even in med school, and then the more pills he popped the worse his emotions seemed to be and the more he rotted on the inside the more people could sense it, even if they couldn’t quite put a finger on what his deal is. 

That, and he’s also an asshole. 

The point is, he doesn’t have many people. After the pills, after the divorce, after moving into an embarrassing two-bedroom apartment that screams of divorced dad vibes with enough furniture to make it functional but not enough to make it feel like a home. 

He’d like to think that after all the shit he’s been through the past year he’s started to appreciate the people in his life a lot more. Cared more for their happiness and wanting to do right by them. It’s all part of his 12 steps and all that bullshit. 

But then one day he looks across the Pitt and sees Mel bent over a patient, some young dude with floppy blonde hair and an easy smile, and he’s saying something that makes her laugh, that nice floaty laugh like she’s about to glide through the clouds, a laugh Frank thought he had dibs on, and he’s staring so intently Dana has to clap her hands three times before he looks away with a jump. 

“Got an interesting case in South 2,” she says, looking at him weirdly. “You want in?” 

“Yeah,” he says, trying not to look at Mel. “Yeah, sounds great.” 

Blonde fucker, he thinks later, as he tries to remove a dart from this bartender’s ass. He keeps thinking about Mel laughing, even though he didn’t get to see her face. Maybe she was just being polite. Mel is always polite, even when she’s telling someone off. He remembers one time where she lost her temper at Santos – as close as losing her temper as Mel has ever gotten to the best of his knowledge – and told her to please not speak to me for the remainder of the day as I’ll only say something I regret, which I don’t want to do for when you feel bad about this later and Santos had seemed guilty enough for once  that she shut up and did as she was told. 

She was just being polite, he tells himself. But he’s not quite sure why it would bother him either way. It’s just that Mel is one of the few good things he has in his life. He can admit that to himself, if not to anyone else, including of his several mandated therapists or the fucktonne of NA meetings he’s forced to go to. 

Mel had visited him in rehab, which no one else from work had done besides Robby, who Frank had refused to see. They gave him that luxury in rehab – deciding who he did and did not have to leave his room to go and speak to from the outside visitors. Robby had never come back again, but he’d been surprised enough when he heard Mel’s name that he went, quite numb and blank faced, and found her sitting there with a myriad of candies. 

“I wasn’t sure what kind you liked,” was the first thing she said to him. “So, I got a lot.” 

And it was so normal, so earnest, that he almost burst into tears right then and there. 

“I’m a KitKat guy,” he’d grinned instead, when he was certain he wouldn’t cry. 

They’d sat there for the full fucking hour, talking about their favourite candies and desserts. She went on a fifteen-minute-long tangent about how she used to suck on so many gumballs that her tongue used to change colour every day. 

“I tried to make it into a schedule,” she’d told him. “Blue on Wednesday, yellow on Sunday, that kind of thing. Purple on Monday’s were my favourite.” 

“Any reason for the schedule?” He’d been smiling as he asked it. He could only imagine a little Mel with her mouth full of fucking gumballs, her tongue changing to one outrageous colour every day. 

“I was reading about colour theory at the time,” she admitted enthusiastically. “Henri Matisse, that kind of thing.” 

“How old were you again?” 

“Around ten or so.” 

Frank had laughed, because of course he had. Of course, she’d be the kind of ten year old to read about Henri fucking Matisse, which he only knew about because Abby had minored in Art History at college and liked to drag him to art exhibitions before they’d had the twins. 

Mel had apologized after a few minutes for rambling, but Frank had assured her it was fine. In fact he was the one who felt guilty, not just for being a regular ole fuckup who landed himself in rehab, but because he suddenly remembered all the times she had begun to ramble during the shift from hell and he’d just walked away like a dickhead. 

But she hadn’t held it against him. 

Before she left when the visiting hour was done, he’d been so overwhelmed that he’d reached down and hugged her without asking, which was shitty. She’d stiffened but let him, as if sensing that he needed it. 

“Sorry,” he’d told her, wiping his eyes. She was kind enough not to comment. 

“It’s okay,” she’d replied, a little awkward. Her arms were still stuck half-out from the hug, like she was a robot and needed someone to force her arms back down. “I’m trying to become better with physical affection.” 

Mel hadn’t made it back to visit him again, as his program was only for thirty days and she had a life outside of him, but on his first day back he found a KitKat taped to his locker. Mel had already finished her shift, so he couldn’t thank her in person. But he kept the chocolate bar in his pocket and would reach for it whenever someone would look at him sideways, frowning whenever he prescribed some form of medication that couldn’t even get someone high, not that it mattered much to anyone. 

He only finished eating the KitKat when he made it back to his car. It was half-melted and kind of mushy, but he still cried a bit anyway.

But yes, Mel is an important part of his life now. Since getting out of rehab, he spends most of his time with her outside of work, when he doesn’t have his kids. She can do better than a blonde fucker fratboy, he thinks rather viciously. 

He wiggles the dart out of the patient’s butt. 

“No offence, dude,” the patient drawls, sleepy with anesthetic. “But I really don’t trust you holding that with that look on your face.” 

Well, fuck. 

-

Mel finds Langdon in the breakroom, sitting on the floor. There’s no dog to pet this time, but he seems content enough. She goes to the fridge and finds her water bottle. Langdon had gotten this one for her birthday. Stainless steel that she could put in the dishwasher without it melting or affecting the taste. 

She’d complained to him once about how she hated the taste of plastic in her water. She kept on rotating between different containers – wasteful, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. One time in med school she couldn’t get the taste of something sweet out of her water bottle no matter how hard she scrubbed and so she threw it out and didn’t have time to buy a new one because she spent an allnighter on campus and then she fainted in the cadaver lab from dehydration. It’s why she had a small little scar at the nape of her neck, which Langdon had asked her about once when she was pulling her hair into a ponytail at the end of her shift.

She meets Langdon on the floor, and he smiles that little-half smile of his when he’s thinking about something. 

“Is that a dart?” she asks, nodding towards the object in his hand. She takes a long cold sip of water. That was another reason why she loved this one so much – it kept the temperature just right. Not too cold and not too warm either. Becca loved hers too. (Langdon had gotten a matching set). The nurses at the care center told her it made keeping Becca hydrated much easier, because her sister only liked to drink certain liquids at certain times. No water before 8am and no fizzy drinks between 5pm to 7pm for some reason only Becca seemed to know. 

“Patient let me keep it. A souvenir from his ass.” 

“That sounds uncomfortable.” 

Langdon chuckles lightly. “Yeah, apparently an ex-girlfriend of his showed up to the bar and saw him flirting with the coworker he told her not to worry about and went a little nuts.” 

Mel tries to imagine throwing darts at someone in anger and shivers. “Infidelity is no excuse for violence,” she says lamely. She feels Langdon look at her. 

“You okay?” he questions measuredly. 

“I feel well,” she replies. 

“Well?” 

“Fine. Adequate. Suboptimal. Sufficient—” 

“Okay, okay, I got it Miss Encyclopedia.” 

“I think you mean Miss Dictionary,” Mel corrects, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “That better suits the purpose of your reference.” 

Langdon laughs again, wiping a hand over his face. “You’re spicy today.” 

“Spicy?” Mel frowns deeply. “I had wasabi with my sushi a few nights ago, but—” She stops. “Ah. A joke.” 

“Yes, I do tend to make those.” Langdon nudges her leg with his foot. “I missed sushi night?” 

“Sorry,” she apologizes sincerely. “Becca was having a bad day, and I thought it would be better if we were alone. We’re having Pizza Sunday though, if you want to come.” 

“What show are you watching this time?” 

It’s been over a week since Langdon joined them. His ex-wife got down with a bad cold for several days, so he had the twins all to himself. Mel had driven him to their school once, where he apparently liked to take them for ice cream at the truck nearby. She hadn’t joined for that. Last time he was with her and Becca, they’d been finishing up their rewatch of The Vampire Diaries, but only until the end of season 6, because Becca hated it after Elena left the show. 

Langdon had been intensely into the love-triangle of it all. Becca liked to wear her Damon Salvatore t-shirt as they watched. 

“Blue-eyed boy team,” Langdon had joked, reaching out to Becca for a high-five. Becca had cackled, wheezing with laughter. Mel could appreciate the resemblance. She’d always hated them on Damon’s actor though – she cringed sometimes at the sheer colour present in them. But she never felt like Langdon. Not really. 

“Mel’s always been a Stefan girlie,” Becca told him loudly. 

Mel had flushed to the roots of her hair at Langdon’s surprised look. “He treats her with respect,” she’d defended weakly. “And he’s the better brother.” 

That became a hot topic of debate for several minutes before they piped down and watched as Elena struggled between the two brothers for the hundredth time that episode. 

“Gilmore Girls,” she replies absent-mindedly, remembering how Langdon had fallen asleep with his head against the arm of her couch, his snores softly filling the room. The way his Adam’s apple had been exposed. “Becca likes starting at season 2 though.” 

“Any reason why?” 

“Dean annoys her.” 

“Huh. Understandable.” 

At her skeptical look, Langdon grins. “My sister made me watch the show as it was coming out.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. No blue-eyed boys to root for on that show, though.” Langdon then elaborates, “we need to stick together and all, you know. Solidarity.” 

“There’s Luke,” Mel can’t help but point out. 

Langdon pauses, then shrugs, as if realizing he’s been outmatched. “Touche.”  They make plans for him to come over in the morning on Sunday, since they both reliably have those days off now that the kids are back with Abby. 

Mel takes another sip of her water, grimacing. 

“You alright?” 

“Slight headache.” 

A pause. She can feel Langdon inspecting her with his eyes, which has always been a peculiar feeling. 

“That guy earlier wasn’t bothering you, was he?” 

Mel frowns again. She should stop, she knows. She once had a tiktok influencer patient who kept pointing out whenever she did it, which was often enough she jumps a little now when she frowns as if expecting someone to bark at her to quit it because of the ‘wrinkles.’

“Which guy?” she asks, picking at her cuticles. 

“The blonde dude.” A sour look flashes on his face, then changes as Langdon clenches his jaw, as if he’s putting a considerable amount of effort to hide how he’s really feeling. “Frat boy looking fucker.” 

Mel is confused. “Weren’t you a fratboy?” 

He’d told that to her once, even showed her a picture on his phone. It had been a bad day – a little girl dead after pushing her brother out of the way from an oncoming car – and he’d found her out on the roof kneeling, head between her knees as she struggled to breathe. The picture had been old, but she’d been able to make out Langdon with his backwards cap and wide grin, wearing a tight blue t-shirt with Greek letters on it. He was holding – somehow – five beers in his hands along with a bong. Fratboy through and through. 

She’d spent several hours later after Becca had gone to sleep researching the initiation/hazing process, and by the time the sun had risen had texted him at least five articles talking about the danger of swallowing a live goldfish and how a few first-years had done to the hospital to get their stomach pumped because of it. 

How did you know about that???? Was what he’d texted.

Mel wrinkles her nose thinking about it. She’d never judge anyone for their dietary habits, but swallowing something alive gives her the heebie-jeebies.

“That’s not the point,” Langdon says quickly. “He looked like he was bothering you. Flappy hair, red face, unattractive—” 

“You mean Hunter?” 

“Of course his name is fucking Hunter,” Langdon mutters. “Wait, you know him?” 

“Not really,” Mel replies, trying not to sound nervous. Perhaps seeing Hunter had affected her more than she thought. “He knew someone I… was once familiar with.” 

Langdon’s face grows blank. “Once familiar with?” 

Mel blushes deeply. “We were uhm – intimately acquainted.” 

“You dated a frat boy?” He sounds mortally offended on her behalf, which Mel doesn’t know what to make of. 

She takes off her glasses, giving her an excuse not to look at him, and reaches in her pocket for the wipe so she can clean the lenses properly. 

“Mel?” he prompts. 

“He wasn’t a fratboy,” she says. “He was in marine biology.”

“He?” 

“Leonard,” Mel answers. She takes a little longer to clean her glasses than normal. “We dated when I was in med school for around a year.” She hadn’t seen or spoken to Leonard in years. She hadn’t seen the point beyond engaging in pleasantries when they bumped into each other. 

Langdon repeats the name as though he’s disgusted. 

“He was a nice guy,” Mel protests. “Really, we just weren’t best suited for each other, is all.” And that was mostly true. Leonard had an older brother who lived in a care home from when he was very young, so he understood Mel’s responsibilities to some degree. He always brought her flowers and never yelled at her or pressured her to do something she didn’t want to do. Perhaps that was the bare minimum, but Mel had appreciated it nonetheless. 

She relays this to Langdon, who makes a deep grumbling sound in his chest. 

“He sounds like a dick,” he says. “Who the fuck names their child Leonard?” 

“Many people,” Mel replies, puzzled. “There’s Leonard Cohen, Leonard Nimoy, Leonardo is the root name, of course which there are Dicaprio—” 

“I get it,” Langdon says. “What happened, then?” He nudges her again with his foot. “You know all about my shitty divorce.” 

That was true, except also not really. She knew that Langdon and Abby met in college in his last year of undergrad and fucked around – his words – for a few years on and off while occasionally seeing other people before they seemed to just click in his second year of med school. They married by the time he was an M4, and she was already four months pregnant. Then, according to Langdon, things began to implode when she found out about his addiction. “Final death bell of my marriage,” he’d sighed. He’d looked so upset while trying not to be that Mel waited until the end of their shift before she corrected him, “death knell.” 

Things had been falling apart before that though, according to him. He never spoke a lot about that though. Mel knew the timeline, but the intimate details she suspects he only tells his mandated therapist and maybe the group sessions in NA. Or maybe to his sponsor, McKay, who had stepped up to the challenge without missing a beat. 

“Nothing, really,” she says, flushing yet again. She feels oddly embarrassed thinking about Leonard. He had been sweet and kind and nice and yet—

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

Mel laughs a little. She feels dizzy suddenly, like she’s just bumped her head. Langdon reaches for his own water bottle – he always kept a plastic one in his lower leg left pocket for some reason, even squished it together so it would fit better – and takes a sip. 

It’s only when he looks away that she finds the strength to respond. 

“Well, he made me think I was asexual.” 

Langdon spits out his water. 

[leyavo]

Dad!141 x Dyslexic!kid

Summary: tf141 x their kids struggling with dyslexia at school. Requested by anon [Masterlist]

John’s pissed when he finds out your teachers been making you stand against the wall each time you’ve failed your weekly spelling test. It’s always when they add a new word that you struggle to remember it, mixing the order of letters. You’d just transferred to a new school due his work and being closer to the military base. The last one had more funding, better understanding of your dyslexia. Whereas this one looked like it was stuck in the eighties and didn’t have enough teachers to watch the kids.

“What do you mean they make you stand against the wall?” He asks, fork clanging to his plate at dinner one night.

“They make me stand in front of the wall and read the words so I don’t forget.” You say it like it’s the most logical thing, but John’s chest aches. He’s tried telling you that your brains wired different, that you’re not slow or dumb. Just learn different than others.

He loves the way your mind works. How you pick up on things he’s never thought of or how you’re good with fixing things. Reminds himself that your short term memory isn’t the best, so he’s patient with you and explains again no matter how many times he has before.

“I’ll talk to ya’ teacher,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair. “Eat that broccoli.” He points to your plate, trying to contain the boiling rage burning the back of his throat.

John schedules a meeting with the headmaster, all the little things you told him about the teacher, noted down the day it happened. How many times it happened. Ended up getting you moved to a different class and he was able to talk to your new teacher and make them aware of your dyslexia etc. Checked in a couple weeks later with new teacher and you to see you were okay.

Simon stares at your school report and glances to you. On paper you’re a completely different kid, described as too quiet, need to participate more in the classroom and work on your reading, you’re behind for your age. Given an extra five minutes now for your tests. The teacher had mentioned that your recent dyslexic diagnosis had discouraged to do work and engage with others.

The comic books in your room are the only ones you like to read, complain every time you look at a bigger body of text. You’d been spending most of your time in the library instead of the playground, organising the books on the shelves.

At home Simon can’t get you to shut up, there’s always something coming out of your mouth that he regularly tells you take a breath. So he sits you down before bed and asks you what’s going on.

“Everything’s harder now,” you say, picking at the broken nail in your lap. “I notice it more and it’s so annoying. Why can’t I just be like you.”

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders and tucks you into his side. “You’re just like me,” he says, squeezing you in his hold.

“I am?” You pull away staring up at him in awe.

“Yeah, you’re bloody stubborn…don’t give up most times. Keep at this and ask for help if you need it kid.”

And it’s like he’s lit something, fuelled something inside of you to combat anything in your way. There’s some frustrated tears and shouted tantrums, but he always reminds you to ask for help when you feel like that.

Kyle’s more upset than angry as he sits in the car on the driveway. He’s just picked you up from school for fighting, you haven’t said a word nor have you explained why you punched a kid bigger than you. No your face scrunched up, knuckles scraped and resting in your lap. The teachers didn’t see what happened on the playground, so it’s a case of he said, she said. You won’t talk though, which makes you the bad kid.

“Come on, poppet. Can’t stick up for you if you don’t tell me what happened. I’m on your side.” He says, shifting in the front seat and leaning into the back towards you. “They push you?”

You were a little smaller than some of them, an easy target if they didn’t know who your dad was.

“They called me dumb, said I was slow.” A little pout on your lips and brows furrowed.

And Kyle listens to you as you tell him about how the teacher made you read in front of the whole class - something that had been agreed they wouldn’t force you to do. How you stumbled over the words, the kids muffling their sniggers and making fun of you in the playground. How you warned the one kid to shut up.

“And I hit him, then asked him did I stutter?”

Kyle’s proud of you for sticking up for yourself, you’d warned them and they still stepped over your boundaries so he’s not going to punish you for it. Just going to remind you that violence isn’t always the solution as now you’re the one suspended from school. He’ll talk to your teachers and get it sorted out.

Johnny can’t understand why he’s being called into the headmasters office again for the second time this week. He walks into the reception area and you’re sitting in one of those awkward plastic chairs with your head hung low.

Something about disrupting the class, refusing to read aloud and not handing in your homework. It’s been a rough couple months since your dyslexia diagnosis and you’re too clever using it as an excuse to neglect your school work. The youngest of four it’s easy for you to go under radar, but now Johnny is on your case and checking anything school related.

The headmaster drones on about your three older siblings and how they were a great addition to the school. Eldest even setting a new school record for test results. Johnny can see the sag of your shoulders as it’s said, he knows you’ve got big shoes to fill and knows you’re different, all his kids are.

Johnny drives the long way home, glancing at you in the rearview mirror in the back. “I don’ expect ya’ to be like them,” he says, trying to catch your gaze in the reflection.

“Not smart enough anyways,” you mumbled, arms crossed tightly over your chest and head turned to the trees flitting past the window.

“Eh! Look at me,” Johnny snaps and you do. “You’re smart in other ways, just want you to try. Alright?” And it’s true you’re a whizz at connecting wires with Johnny whenever he’s trying to fix something, you even remember the name of every tool in the garage and its use. There’s just other things you have to work harder at.

“Yeah, Da’. I’ll try.”

🤌 there might be mistakes/errors due to dyslexia lol - Leya

[aldisobey]

HE IS RISEN

Here to share some of my favorites with you from the first two bits. It caught the moooood tonight. This morning. Its my friday. Below because obnoxiously long? You're warned

Well, as immediately as whatever was living on his gloved hands would allow. He often had to let it go through the voicemail the first time as he divested himself of gloves, but there was almost always an immediate second call.

Storytelling masterwork. Look at the character building. Look at all the information we get. A glimpse at the work he does, the urgency of the previous nannies. I love stuff like this.

The other was an incident involving Johanna the cat, which resulted in Emmrich talking her through the process of dismantling the basement drop ceiling.

Here it is again. That world and character building. We get Johanna the cat. We get Rook and Emmrich being pretty capable as as a team too, or maybe I just hate audio instructions. Also cat shenanigans.

Rook had offered insight into what such a partnership might be.

The way I can feel a tiny heartbeat in my throat. Dangerous thoughts sir.

But then, that thought veered too closely to something that Emmrich had spent a great deal of time trying to ignore over the last six month

Ah he knows. But circling round it. Has that peace to think. The insight to want such perhaps?

He couldn’t be blamed, therefore, for answering the phone with a hurried and abrupt prompt of, “What’s happened?”

And all that build up and charcter leads to such a heavy drop, and a deep knowing of his thoughts without having to spell them out in moment

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing immediately to gather his things.

Few words heavy emotin. This paints the deep worry and concern. I live for it.

there was an odd quality to her voice—stifled, as though with congestion. She’d been experiencing no such ailment this morning at breakfast, when she’d come in from her apartment..."Oh dear," tutted Emmrich

You pepper the world building so perfectly. Now we now their living situation, their schedule, how aware he is how attentive she is, how they both might. Oh dear is alright Rook's having a medical emergency but skirt aaaaaaa. And the mug!!!

Minanter River the previous afternoon and likely wouldn’t surface until she’d gleaned the name of the man’s tax adjuster from the color of his liver.

More workd building more character building shile moving scrne along you do see how fuckin well balanced this is don't you

He comforted himself with it as he sprinted towards the parking garage, open suit jacket flailing behind him.

I just like this mental image. Pause here and watch him run a bit.

“You’ll be alright, my dear,” Emmrich said. “Where’s Manfred?”

AAAAAA the pause was worth it. Made that my dear SLAP

“That’s quite fine, darling. Breathe—slow, deep. You’ll hear the door open in a few minutes. It will be a neighbor coming to take Manfred. I don’t want you to get up. I’ll come find you when I get home.”

A DARLING THE SLOW THE DEEP A HALL OF FAME and just lay down he'll come find here??! Its wild over here!?

Nonetheless, he kept the touch as perfunctory as possible—a brief, chaste touch to the very apple of her kneecap.

He might tooo direct the preciseness of it. Thinkin a bit much about it him.

He’d nearly tried to convince her to let him carry her to the car.

Such a simple sentence. Having me grinding my teeth.

He made himself veer away from those thoughts when he realized that it was his own bed he was imagining tucking her into.

ITS ALL SO DOMESTIC wait i get it enlightenment later

“So you must be Mrs. Volkarin,” said Reldevar immediately, holding out a hand for Rook to shake.

Bless you Dr

“Your husband’s got it in one, Rook.

St. Reldevar I'm lighting candles in your honor. How he stayed silent snd not beat red. That strained smile oh he is GOIN through it

sort of car-crash impulse. It happened very quickly, and he couldn’t quite make himself look away;

This entire paragraph is simply wild i am. Its just a butt. Its just a man looking at a butt. Why cant I turn away something is wrong here

Emmrich floundered for his own self-control.

And then the

Rook tossed her head in Emmrich’s direction, seemed to almost wink.

I love you Rook you know EXACTLY what youre up to. I love you for it.

"Yes,” Emmrich murmured. “I can certainly do that.”

Ooh no look at the time intermission for me. I love this story. I'll read it again.

Nanny AU? Nanny AU.

Emmrich was somewhat used to receiving panicked phone calls at work. The nanny situation with Manfred had been tumultuous for quite some time—there had been a year or so there where Manfred had burned through nannies like a fire through kindling. Four professionals had come and gone, and Emmrich had learned that very few things were sacred when one had an overly precocious genius-level three-year-old at home; especially one’s work hours. He’d taken to answering the phone immediately upon feeling it vibrate in his back pocket. Well, as immediately as whatever was living on his gloved hands would allow. He often had to let it go through the voicemail the first time as he divested himself of gloves, but there was almost always an immediate second call.

That was, until Rook.

In the six months since hiring her, Emmrich had only received two phone calls at work. Rook seemed to almost pathologically respect Emmrich’s working hours, and only called during utmost emergencies. The first, only a week into the current arrangement, had been to inform him that Manfred had vomited at school and she needed him to call the school and give them her information so that she could pick him up. The other was an incident involving Johanna the cat, which resulted in Emmrich talking her through the process of dismantling the basement drop ceiling.

Rook’s respect of his work hours was one of the many reasons why Emmrich had come to deeply appreciate her presence in his life—aside from her positive influence on Manfred, of course, and her skill in helping to nurture and educate him. Emmrich had known, of course, that single parenthood was an undertaking not to be taken lightly, and he would certainly never regret the decision to create his little family, but the lack of a partner in the endeavor had rankled at times. Rook had offered insight into what such a partnership might be.

But then, that thought veered too closely to something that Emmrich had spent a great deal of time trying to ignore over the last six months.

In any case, the dropoff in sudden calls had allowed Emmrich to reclaim a piece of his own sense of peace that he hadn’t even realized had gone missing. He’d at least stopped walking into work while wondering what unplanned issues would arise during the day.

On the other hand, he now knew that on the occasions that his phone did ring at work—with Rook’s particular ringtone to indicate to him that it was her calling—it was truly an emergency.

He couldn’t be blamed, therefore, for answering the phone with a hurried and abrupt prompt of, “What’s happened?” when Rook’s ringtone pierced the calm and quiet of his office on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Manfred’s fine,” she said immediately, prompting yet another rush of gratitude from him—she was intuitive that way. The relief flooded back out of his system, however, when Rook followed it up with, “I’m really sorry to bother you, Emmrich, but I think I need to go to the hospital, so you should probably come home.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing immediately to gather his things. On a handful of occasions, he’d been summoned home to take over care if a nanny had some unforeseen event—issues with their own childcare, sudden mid-day illness, and on one occasion an on-the-spot resignation. That had been a memorable and unfortunate day.

A medical emergency was a new and horrifying occurrence.

“Manfred crawled under the hedgerow and I had to chase him through the field behind the house,” Rook said, and there was an odd quality to her voice—stifled, as though with congestion. She’d been experiencing no such ailment this morning at breakfast, when she’d come in from her apartment in the guesthouse and helped him clean up the carnage of Manfred’s oatmeal. She, herself, had smelled of strawberries. Her skirt had fluttered just a little too high as she ran down the driveway to hand him his forgotten travel mug as he ducked into his car.

“Oh dear,” Emmrich tutted, locking his office behind him as he swept into the hallway. He made the split-second decision to simply text Johanna—the person, not the cat—that he’d had a family emergency and would follow up with her about the day’s cases at a later time. Johanna was unlikely to notice his absence, as it was; she was elbows-deep in some unfortunate soul pulled from the Minanter River the previous afternoon and likely wouldn’t surface until she’d gleaned the name of the man’s tax adjuster from the color of his liver.

“And he’s fine,” Rook reiterated, as though she genuinely thought that that was still his major concern after she’d told him that she was intending to seek emergency medical attention for something that Emmrich’s very own three-year-old had subjected her to. “But there was deathroot? Growing in the field? And I’m super allergic. Usually I just break out in hives, but there was so much of it, and I was wearing a sundress, and anyway I’m having trouble breathing—"

“Do you have an epi-pen?”

“No,” Rook said, “Like I said—it’s never been this bad before. I think I might have inhaled some of the pollen.”

“Calm down,” Emmrich said, sinking into his medical training and pushing the alarm to the back of his mind. It had been years since his practice had taken its turn towards the deceased, and he was unused to treating living patients, but the knowledge was still there. He comforted himself with it as he sprinted towards the parking garage, open suit jacket flailing behind him. “There should be Benadryl in the master bedroom ensuite. Chew two capsules, open a window and sit down. If you feel your throat closing or start feeling lightheaded, you need to call emergency. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Rook’s voice was faint—less assured than he’d ever heard her.

“You’ll be alright, my dear,” Emmrich said. “Where’s Manfred?”

“I put him in his room with some toys. He’s probably making a mess, but there’s nothing he can hurt himself with and I didn’t trust myself—”

“That’s quite fine, darling. Breathe—slow, deep. You’ll hear the door open in a few minutes. It will be a neighbor coming to take Manfred. I don’t want you to get up. I’ll come find you when I get home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Rook said, and the fact that this was her token argument showed her state.

“I’ll not let you drive yourself to the hospital in the state you’re in,” Emmrich said firmly. “I’ll be there shortly. Stay calm.”

Rook’s low, mumbled agreement and the tone of the call ending sounded as Emmrich started his car and the phone connected to the sound system. As he peeled backwards out of his assigned parking spot and executed a maneuver of suspect legality to merge summarily onto the roadway, he initiated a second call.

The line picked up immediately, as he suspected it would.

“Myrna,” he said, even before she’d finished her cool, perfunctory Hello? as she answered the phone. “Are you or Vorgoth working from the home office today?”

-0-

“I’m really sorry about all of this, Emmrich.”

For at least the third time since a nurse had led them into this awful little room, Emmrich offered Rook a strained smile and patted her knee. She’d put on leggings before his arrival at the house, probably to cover up the scrapes and bruises from her excursion through the hedgerow and deathroot patch, and his hand met nothing but soft, body-warm cotton. Nonetheless, he kept the touch as perfunctory as possible—a brief, chaste touch to the very apple of her kneecap.

“Don’t apologize, Rook,” he said, shifting restlessly in his plastic chair. Rook was perched in a large vinyl medical recliner, knees drawn up to her chest and face pressed to her own thighs. Her breathing had become slightly less labored in the last hour or so, after he’d arrived at the house to find her sitting on the chaise lounge in the master bedroom reading nook, face ashen and hands fisted into one of his mother’s quilts. He’d nearly tried to convince her to let him carry her to the car.

As her breathing eased, however, she began to itch and the rash worsened—large plaques of urticaria covering a vast swath of her skin. Emmrich kept a careful vigil on the patches, on the color of her lips, looking for any sign of a worsening reaction.

They had her on a pulse oximeter, which was beeping steadily at 74 beats per minute and 99% oxygen saturation—both good signs. A nurse had taken her blood pressure upon their arrival, frowned slightly, and left. Emmrich suspected this to mean that it had been slightly elevated, which was to be expected with the stress of the situation and the antihistamine he’d directed her to take earlier.

They’d been waiting for over an hour for the attending physician.

“I don’t know what’s taking so long,” Rook sighed into her knees, as she itched frantically at a plaque of hives on her shoulder.

“Unfortunately, with your vitals, you’re likely not considered top priority at the moment,” Emmrich murmured.

“I want to go home,” Rook muttered, a tone of abject misery to her voice, and Emmrich wanted nothing more than to fulfill her desire. Take her home, put her to bed and offer her something warm and comforting to drink.

He made himself veer away from those thoughts when he realized that it was his own bed he was imagining tucking her into.

A wholly inappropriate thought to have about one’s live-in nanny, said a voice in the back of his head, which unfortunately sounded too much like Johanna for comfort. You decrepit old popinjay, it added as though to confirm.

Emmrich indulged in a sigh of his own, buried his face in the heel of his hand, and said, “A little longer, darling.” When he realized what he’d said—and he’d used that word earlier as well, hadn’t he?—he looked back up in time to catch an odd, soft expression cross Rook’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wearily. “Habit.”

“I like it,” she whispered. She looked very small, sad and…young sitting there, wrapped around herself in a tense bundle.

Before Emmrich could say or do anything, the curtain of the triage room slid aside. This, of course, was for the best.

“Sigrid?” said the man who’d just arrived—the attending physician, by all indications, given he was wearing the darker blue scrubs that this hospital used to indicate such a role, and Emmrich in fact recognized him as one of the ER physicians he’d had encounters with in his role as medical examiner.

“Yes,” said Rook, though it took Emmrich a moment to remember that yes, that actually was her legal name. The one she never used and seemed averse to anyone else using, either. To evidence this, she added, “Though, I go by Rook—it should be in my paperwork as my preferred—”

“Oh, it does say that,” said the physician, tugging a rolling chair several unnecessary feet across the cramped room. He mounted it backwards and tapped his clipboard. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this whole preferred name thing. Us old dogs have to learn a few new tricks, I suppose. So you’re Rook, she/her pronouns, and who’ve you brought with you today?” He looked to Emmrich, furrowed his brows, and said, “Oh, Doctor Volkarin. I almost didn’t recognize you out of the morgue.”

Emmrich offered a brief, wane smile. “Doctor Reldevar.”

“So you must be Mrs. Volkarin,” said Reldevar immediately, holding out a hand for Rook to shake.

Oddly, Rook didn’t deny it—she shook Reldevar’s hand, though unsmiling, and offered Emmrich a brief shrug when the good doctor looked back down at his clipboard.

“Oh, sorry, stuck my foot in my mouth again,” Reldevar said, still examining the clipboard, “You kept your maiden name, huh? Lots of women doing that these days. Anyway, Rook, it looks like you’re in today about some breathing trouble?”

“An allergic reaction to deathweed, it would seem,” Emmrich said, taking the burden of speaking away from her—which she offered him a small, grateful smile for behind her knees. “Poor Rook is very allergic, and crawled through a patch this afternoon after Manfred—that is, my son—ran off into the field behind our house. I believe she inhaled some of the pollen and received quite considerable topical exposure. She was badly scraped by the thorns. I directed her to take an antihistamine to stop the worst of the initial reaction, but steroids will probably be necessary to prevent another, worse recurrence of the reaction due to the extent of exposure.”

Reldevar hummed, pursed his lips, flipped through the pages of Rook’s paperwork for a further moment, then snapped his fingers and pointed in Emmrich’s direction. “Your husband’s got it in one, Rook. We’ll fix you up with a steroid injection here in the hospital and we’ll watch you for a little bit to make sure the reaction is going down, and then we’ll send you home with…eh, probably a prednisone prescription and a topical ointment for those hives. How’s that sound?”

“Um, fine?” said Rook, still itching, and Reldevar presented her with his hand to shake again.

“Sounds good,” he said, and leaned over to shake Emmrich’s hand as well. “Take care, Doctor.” He winked. “Take the missus home and give her a day away from the kid, huh? Sounds like he’s a handful.”

Emmrich responded with nothing but a strained smile, and Reldevar took his leave back out the curtain of the triage room.

As the curtain was still swinging, Rook took in a deep breath and said, “I just felt like it was harder to explain the situation—”

“Of course,” Emmrich said, wiggling his hands equivocally in front of himself. “That’s entirely—”

“—and I thought, maybe he’d listen to me if he thought—”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They fell into an odd, awkward silence of the sort that they’d never really had to suffer through. Rook was almost universally easy to talk to, at least so far as Emmrich was concerned, and conversation had always flowed easily between them—whether it had to do with Manfred, various professional conversations that had to take place due to Emmrich’s position as Rook’s employer and de facto landlord, or conversations of a more personal nature.

Rook settled back into the recliner, looking small and tired, and Emmrich could do nothing but reach over to pat her knee again.

It took another half an hour for a nurse to arrive with the promised steroid injection.

“So this needs to go into a large muscle,” said the nurse. “We usually do the muscle in one of your glutes—meaning this area here—” the nurse gestured to her own rear, somewhere in the area where thigh became butt. “If that’s alright with you, I just need you to lift your dress and pull your leggings to the side.”

Rook sighed, but showed no significant reluctance to the idea—even despite Emmrich’s continued presence. He knew, obviously, that this was his cue to excuse himself or at least look away, but he was trapped by some sort of car-crash impulse. It happened very quickly, and he couldn’t quite make himself look away; Rook rose from her chair, pulled her sundress up around her waist and lowered her leggings just far enough to reveal the buttery expanse of one smooth thigh and asscheek. She was clearly wearing very scant undergarments. The only real indication that she was wearing panties at all was the barest peek of a dark purple thong cresting the apple of her hip.

“This might sting a little more than your average flu shot,” the nurse cautioned as she swiped an alcohol wipe onto Rook’s flank. “It’ll ache a bit tomorrow. But once we’re done, you can go home, so that’s good…”

Emmrich became aware of just how hard he’d been clenching his jaw when Rook gasped at the prick of the syringe and his mouth, quite involuntarily, fell open just slightly. He could feel his pulse in his teeth. His legs, crossed over each other in a habitual mannerism, ached from how tensely he was holding himself. Between them, his traitorous prick stirred, intrigued by a breathless sound from a beautiful woman and the sight of her nearly bare ass.

“Oh, shit, you weren’t kidding,” Rook said, fingers visibly whitening on the armrest of the chair she’d bent herself over. “That hurts. Oh, Maker, that fucking burns—”

“Sorry,” the nurse said, genuine sympathy in her voice as she capped the syringe. She dropped it into a nearby sharps container and fastened a piece of gauze over the pinprick of blood now welling up on Rook’s otherwise pristine skin. Emmrich floundered for his own self-control. “Good news is, you’re done! The doctor already sent your prescription over to your pharmacy on file. Your discharge papers are on the table here. Any questions?”

“Oh, I live with a doctor.” Rook tossed her head in Emmrich’s direction, seemed to almost wink. “He’ll take care of me, and I just really want to go home.”

“Medical examiner,” Emmrich said, perhaps a little louder than he’d meant to. Rook had yet to pull her leggings back up all the way—the purple thong abided, teasing him from underneath the hiked-up hem of her dress. “I do have—technically, yes, I’m a medical doctor—"

“Fair enough,” said the nurse, in what was perhaps the politest way possible to say I do not have time for this. To Rook, she added, “Feel better!” and then took her leave to the tune of the curtain rings rattling on the rod and the swish of scrubs.

“Your leggings, my dear,” Emmrich said into the subsequent silence—or, at least, the lack of conversation; the rooms around them were still full of sound. Beeping heart monitors, coughing patients and the tapping of shoes on tile.

“Oh,” said Rook, who in that very moment seemed to remember that her entire hip and most of her right asscheek were uncovered. She pulled them up, wincing at the drag over her recently abused flesh, and sighed into her palm. “Take me home, please?”

“Yes,” Emmrich murmured. “I can certainly do that.”

-0-

Upon walking through the door, Johanna immediately made her discontent at the hour of their arrival known. It was indeed quite significantly past her typical dinnertime, and she was a creature of habit—but Emmrich still considered the unrepentant yowling a bit excessive.

“Oh, hush,” he admonished her, ushering Rook in the door with a hand at the small of her back. She’d deteriorated rapidly on the car ride home—visibly tiring and becoming distressed and impatient with the persistent itching of her skin. She was bright red in places, including her shoulders and arms, and her normally pinned hair had come down in large drapes against her face and the back of her neck. At some point, Emmrich had offered her a discarded cardigan from the backseat, and she now wore it draped around her shoulders. It was gray, a little lumpy, and inspired an incongruous urge of possessiveness to curl itself around Emmrich’s heart every time he glanced at her.

“Rook,” he began as he turned on the foyer light, “It would comfort me greatly if you stayed in the guest room tonight, instead of returning to your flat in the guest house. It’s entirely up to you, of course, but it would ease my mind if—”

“Believe me, Emmrich, the last thing I want to do right now is walk all the way to the guest house,” Rook sighed. Hearteningly, she pulled his cardigan tighter around herself. “I’ll make up the bedroom for myself.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Emmrich said, in almost the tone he used to admonish Manfred when he indulged his more mischievous impulses. “I’ll make up the bedroom and run you a bath. It would be a good idea to remove any remaining material from your skin before you sleep.”

“Emmrich, I can’t let you—” Rook sighed, grunted, and attempted to reach her hand down the back of her shirt to, presumably, scratch at a patch of urticaria on an inaccessible portion of her back. “You’re my—I can’t put you out like that—”

“Nonsense,” Emmrich replied, determined to make that the end of the conversation. He mounted the stairs rapidly, using his superior height to his advantage for once, and he’d already begun filling the guest bathroom tub with nearly-scalding water by the time he saw Rook make her way into the bedroom through the cracked door.

Of the bedrooms in his house, one of them was the master—which featured a full ensuite bathroom with whirlpool tub and generously-sized rainfall shower stall. Manfred’s bedroom was attached Jack-and-Jill style to Emmrich's office via a childproofed bath that featured a toilet with a potty seat installed, child-height vanity and a shower bath strewn with all manner of toys. The fourth bedroom was smallest and therefore had the smallest bathroom—a simple three-quarters bath with only a tub, though it was claw-footed and generous in size. Emmrich knelt on the plush rug and ran the bath, peering through the cracked door and attempting to convince himself not to.

It was unlikely Rook wasn’t aware of his presence in the bathroom—she could hear the water running, and would almost certainly know that he hadn’t left it to run unattended, if only through habit given the current absence of three-year-olds on the premises. Even so, as she was meandering through the room and passing in and out of view, she was shedding clothes.

First the cardigan, which bared the angry rash on her arms and shoulders. Then the shoes and the leggings—when she next wandered by, Emmrich realized that she had scraped her knees up quite badly, likely while pursuing Manfred under the hedgerow. She stood center in the room for a moment (Emmrich drew a hand through the pooling water in the tub and, upon realizing it was scalding hot, switched the faucet to cool for a moment) and pulled the pins out of her hair. Disappeared. When she next came back into view—

Well, the dress had gone, and he discovered that the thong and bra set had a pattern of skulls.

Emmrich finally convinced his eyes downwards. He was unsurprised but nonetheless mortified to find the telltale swell of an erection evident against his inner thigh. He sighed and rubbed some of the cool water across his forehead.

If this woman was a test from the Maker—or something even more esoteric; a challenge to his vows as a physician perhaps? A sudden hurdle for his self-control and dedication to gentlemanliness to overcome?—she was certainly serving her purpose masterfully.

“Emmrich?”

She’d found a robe—fluffy and white, something he’d put in the closet long ago that might have been left behind when a lover made an unceremonious exit from his life. He’d laundered it regularly for years on the off chance that it would find use again, by a paramour or a guest. Emmrich was utterly unsure which of those labels Rook fell under, especially in the moment.

She seemed to almost know what she’d done—he would certainly not go so far as to say the parade in front of the bathroom door had been intentional, but she at least seemed not to care if he’d been watching. She at least seemed content with the idea that he knew the color of her underwear and the shape of the tattoo on her hip.

It was, interestingly, a black bird. A rook, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Yes?” Emmrich responded, with an only slightly-too-long pause as she stood in the bathroom doorway and he attempted to make his tongue form sounds.

“Do you have any of that oatmeal bath left from when Manfred had HFMD?”

“Oh! I very well may.” Grateful for a reason to flee and collect himself, Emmrich did so. The colloidal oatmeal was in the back of the cabinet in Manfred’s bathroom—half a box left over from Manfred’s recent bout of Hand, Food and Mouth Disease. A disgusting five days of Emmrich’s life which he was not eager to relive.

Manfred’s fingernails were still regrowing.

Luckily, the thought of weeping blisters did wonders for the exorcism of blood from certain areas of the body. When Emmrich returned to the bathroom, his erection had flagged, and he was able to finish running the bath with all of the professional courtesy demanded of his Hippocratic oath and the employee-employer relationship he held with the attractive and berobed woman sitting on the toilet lid.

“Test the water temperature before you get in,” Emmrich cautioned as he turned off the spigot. “I’m afraid I may have run it too hot to start.”

He’d expected Rook to simply agree, or wait until he’d exited the bathroom, or at least simply use her hand to test it. To his incredulity, she immediately slunk over, pulled the hem of the robe above her knee and dipped a toe in.

The color of her nail polish matched her underwear. He did not know why—or perhaps he was just lying to himself—but it was this particular detail that brought his cock instantly, painfully back to full hardness.

He could not stop himself from imagining those toes in his mouth.

“I think I will also start my nighttime ablutions,” he said, perhaps hoarsely—he could not bring himself to care in the moment.

“Sure,” Rook said vaguely, watching the oatmeal swirl in the tub. “Thanks, Emmrich. Oh—would you help me put the ointment on after this? There are places on my back that I can’t reach.”

“Of course,” Emmrich said, feeling like his head would pop off his shoulders.

He put as many doors between himself and Rook as he possibly could. The guest bathroom, the guest room, his own bedroom door and then the door to his own ensuite. He spent a moment against the back of the bathroom door, eyes squeezed shut, talking himself off the edge.

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, and tore into his trousers with the furiousness of a man possessed. He stumbled to the shower, removing clothes as he went, and almost stumbled into the shower stall with his socks still on. The cold water did absolutely nothing to soothe his hot skin or boiling blood—as he slid down onto his knees and tilted his head back under the rainfall of the showerhead, he was already stroking himself with a franticness more typically seen in those half his age.

Maker, she made him feel half his age. When she pranced through his kitchen wearing a sundress and a smile. When she poked her head into his study at night to tell him that she’d read his son to sleep, asked him how his day had gone, sat on the settee and talked to him for an hour. When she let him call her darling and pretended to be his wife.

Oh, it was almost too easy to imagine it. To pretend.

He stripped his cock, pictured her hand. Her mouth. Her small breasts in their purple skull-and-lace vesture. The way he would worship her with his hands and mouth. How did she taste, how did she sound, what was the color of her—

He gasped, fingers curled into the tile of the shower floor, and came into the lukewarm water swirling around his knees.

The shame kicked in almost immediately, even as he watched the evidence of his depravity vanish down the drain. He was a man in his fifties, a father, a doctor. This sort of behavior was so completely below him, so completely inappropriate—

But damn, had it felt good. The last three years, since the blessing of Manfred came into his life, he’d allowed himself to become almost completely divorced from his own sexuality. It had been over a year since he’d had sex, and even masturbation had seemed like too much effort most nights. When he did work up the energy to reach a hand down, he did so while conditioning his hair and making lists in his head.

The relief of a true release was almost as stark as the accompanying self-loathing.

 Later, as he carefully rubbed the ointment onto Rook’s back and pointedly did not let himself look beyond the patches of rash he was focusing on, he mumbled, “I want you to know, Rook, that I…value you.”

Rook turned, hair pooled over her shoulder. She was not embarrassed of the fact that her shirt was hanging loosely off her neck, and he could not avoid seeing the peak of one brown nipple.

“I know,” she said, and Emmrich could almost convince himself that she was simply tired, or trusted him as a medical professional, or did not even consider that he might look based simply on his age.

Almost—were it not for the small, satisfied smirk he saw in the vanity mirror as she turned back around.

[monocytogenes]

Illario Dellamorte and the role of First Talon

I've read a lot of speculation on the tags as to why Caterina favors Lucanis over Illario as her successor. While I know Veilguard offers its own implications, given that @nirikeehan and I have been writing a worldstate based solely off of pre-VG sources--such as The Wigmaker Job and Eight Little Talons--I got curious as to what those sources specifically tell us about Illario's talents and Caterina's likely perspective on the role.

Illario's Virtues

What qualities does Illario have going for him?

Illario is incredibly charismatic, in a striking and deliberate way. We learn from Lucanis’ perspective that Illario actively weaponizes his appearance and manner to great effect.

His “pretty-boy mask” seems to be more of a tool than a genuine facet of his personality, a costume he puts on to gain admiration from others and accomplish ends. He does seem to have a real interest in fashion (and, well, cleanliness, given the number of times he’s clearly put out by gore, and the scene where Lucanis expects to find him at the cleanest tavern at the docks), but he’s able to easily paint over the feelings of annoyance, frustration, and brotherly mischief he readily shows his cousin when he’s out to engineer a situation. Lucanis is grudgingly impressed by his skill.

I also love this little scene where Illario takes the lead on bluffing an approaching assassin, giving less socially adept Lucanis an effective opener and adding realistic sound effects. He has enough imagination to craft a convincing scenario on the spot and kick off some naturalistic banter.

We also learn that, though he can improvise, Illario is someone who values plans and active communication. He is clearly annoyed that Lucanis is playing things by ear after they discover Ambrose knows they’re coming, and working tactics out in his own head without informing him of what’s next.

A lot of Illario’s complaints, snarkiness towards Lucanis, and desire to find some joy in the job seems to be a response to this active exclusion (despite Lucanis viewing it as Illario’s unwillingness to work.)

Illario wants to actively discuss things—perhaps to swap ideas and collaborate better—and really prods at Lucanis when he’s unwilling to do that.

Frankly, I think the most interesting narrative dynamic in TWJ is how, given that we’re in Lucanis’ perspective, Illario at first does appear somewhat flippant and unserious, but as the story goes on and Lucanis starts taking extra risks and eventually goes fully off the rails (like, so off the rails that he’s effectively multi-track drifting), it becomes increasingly apparent that Illario is the more professional of the pair.

He gets annoyed that Lucanis is shirking an order, despite his own resentment for Caterina.

He gets upset at Lucanis’ willingness to identify himself to an enslaved person and leave her alive because it’s an operational security issue. He and Lucanis are foreign agents hired to kill a powerful, well-connected Tevinter nobleman. If she can provide a description of Lucanis, that puts Lucanis’ life at risk!

Later, Illario reaches Peak Pissed Off when Lucanis denies him a quick kill, makes the situation substantially more dangerous, and isn’t able to differentiate between his own vengeful thoughts and what Illario’s actually telling him. To Illario, the job is a job, a task to complete; emotions and greater political concerns are beside the point, and only threaten their own survival.

(There is no place for emotion in killing, as Caterina taught them—as Lucanis remembers and immediately ignores.)

Finally, I’ll note that though Lucanis’ physical talents surpass his, we see that apart from a master social engineer and a professional with an appreciation for plans, effective risk management and a sensibly limited scope of work, Illario’s a deadly combatant in his own right, too.

Caterina and the Role of First Talon

The question becomes: how do those assets match up to the job of First Talon?

Lucanis clearly believes Illario’s social skills fit the demands of the role:

In TWJ, we’re not given a solid reason, really, as to why Lucanis is the evident favorite. We are shown that Lucanis is an almost legendarily lethal assassin, kind of a Batman-esque terror hero (maybe more of just a 'protagonist' than a ‘hero’, if I'm honest.) Lucanis is larger than life in the eyes of his peers. In ELT mention of him makes Teia and Viago literally shudder:

And what’s interesting there is that the description of him as terrifying is presented alongside a description of First Talon Caterina as terrifying. She is not fair, she is ruthless. She previously subjected a House to such complete devastation that Teia, a younger colleague, has never heard of it.

Like Illario, Caterina is intentional about her appearance. She deliberately demonstrates her wealth and authority. She actively masks emotions that are at odds with what she’s trying to accomplish socially.

But she’s scary. She is fierce and unyielding and commands respect through not just through the resources of her House, or her capacity for planning, or her overall experience and intelligence, but fear.

In this way, Lucanis seems more like Caterina. If the role of First Talon, preeminent killer of killers, carries a heavy expectation of brutality for the sake of the Crows as an institution, then charming, fashionable, affable Illario may not look like an appropriate choice.

Illario is a capable, pragmatic assassin; his ability to endear himself to strangers is bar none; he appreciates the value of a thought-out plan and would likely take naturally to administrative work if he doesn’t have a hand in it already (perhaps there’s a reason why, per Lucanis, he doesn’t leave Treviso or have much in the way of foreign contacts.) But superficially: he’s pleasant. He’s pretty. He doesn’t like blood. He doesn’t fit the image.

He’s not even mentioned by Viago as someone of interest after Teia alludes to him indirectly (and amusingly implies that neither he nor Lucanis are sufficiently affectionate towards Caterina.) Illario's likely not perceived as a contender of importance.

It’s apparent, too, that Lucanis’ absolute freakout in TWJ is not Lucanis’ standard operating procedure, given how shocked and furious Illario is with him—normally Lucanis is committed to his contracts, if kind of flying by the seat of his pants. His potentially compromising expressions of empathy towards servants and lower-class folks are evidently not usual for him since they surprise Illario, who otherwise seems to know him well. And while Lucanis is avoidant of Caterina, he respects her, and seems to have previously only nudged at his boundaries while still getting his work done, rather than actively making a mess of things in a way that might invite her scorn.

Illario, for what it's worth, doesn’t seem to be obnoxious towards her either—he expresses some bitterness to Lucanis, but rather than bothering Caterina about the matter himself, he wants Lucanis to open the conversation on his behalf. He’s tense about the potential for conflict and acknowledges her fear-based influence over both of them.

In all, I don’t think, textually, that Caterina’s disfavor of Illario is due to him being unqualified for the job of First Talon in terms of his actual skills, or due to some sort of interpersonal conflict between them. Maybe she even has a decent sense of his ability and track record, given that she had a hand in training him and is actively overseeing her House's affairs. Rather, I suggest she’d prefer someone who would match her leadership style, someone who would rule more through fear than love, who could adopt the persona other Crows expect in service of their collective survival. And certainly even up to the time that she’s set to summon Lucanis, Lucanis seems like the more suitable choice.

Caterina doesn't know that Lucanis has been growing a conscience, that he’s behaving erratically, that he said “fuck the job” amid Illario’s protestations. War looms on the horizon, the Crow leadership is gutted, and it's logical enough for her to figure that her legacy will need to be one of cold-blooded shows of force, not the persuasions of a silver tongue.

[crab-people-overlord]

Stan & Kyle. Kyle & Stan.

I’ve written a lot on their differences, but that’s mainly because I often write them paired up, so… I think about these differences a lot. About their dynamic. And when you write them together long enough, you start to notice just how different these two boys are. Not just in behavior, but in how they see the world.

There are plenty of episodes where they clash and argue, even some where they completely drift apart. And yet...  there are even more moments where they come back together. Always.

Because despite everything, they choose each other to be super best friends. Again and again. 

I’ve written about their differences between their neuroticism and how those are completely different (Kyle more internally chill yet externally anxious, yet Stan much more externally chill but internally more depressive and sensitive). And I keep meaning to make a post on here about their differences in Agreeableness when it comes to the Big 5 (something very interesting when comparing the two, which I’ll probably share later on). 

But something I often ask myself is… why are they best friends despite seeing the world so differently? They are SO different in how they process the world, yet canonically they’re ride-or-die best friends, so… why?

When it comes down to it:

Stan is more internal, emotional, disillusioned, cynical. Not good at consistently tying general societal moral issues together, yet great at one-on-one empathizing. His emotions often overwhelm him to the point of inaction, though when he does act, it's from an impulsive and often deeply emotional standpoint.

Kyle is external, he brings the fire- he's morally intense and CONSISTENT about his morals - but he can be terrible at one on one empathizing. He tries to stay ultimately positive about future implications. He’s idealistic. He's organized and consistent about his actions. You can count on him to stand up for what he feels is wrong.

Despite this, it’s clear they both care deeply, just in wildly (and at times flawed) different ways. This causes their core friendship at its best to run heavily on mutual respect, honesty, and loyalty. And at its worst cause massive misunderstandings and dramatic breakdowns.

Kyle brings the fire. Stan brings the calm. Kyle can get Stan to finally fucking act. Stan can help Kyle to take a deep breath and pause. 

When they clash the most: 

Kyle fights the world. He wants justice and group harmony. And he can be selfish from a standpoint of getting preachy and self-righteous, turning things quite black and white and disregarding some perhaps more nuanced views. He’s positive there’s always a moral way forward. And he desperately wants to be seen as an believes he is correct, not just morally, but also logically. When Stan checks out emotionally or becomes nihilistic/selfish? This drives him fucking insane. 

Stan withdraws from the world. He just wants authenticity and inner peace. And he can be selfish from a standpoint of just being… internally selfish lmao. Like he knows what he wants personally, and can zero in on just that, without thinking about, say, why Kyle may be so hurt about Cartman being anti semitic because Stan at times doesn’t care unless it impacts him personally. He doesn’t always show up for the moral crusade, and Kyle notices this. 

Kyle externalizes stress. Stan internalizes it. That contrast causes rifts, but also shows how different kinds of emotional pain can look. Kyle can get pissed off at Stan because Stan doesn’t as consistently demonstrate the same group moral standpoint moral crusading he expects Stan to, and sometimes Stan is so inwardly focused that he doesn’t even consider the impact on the greater group. And Stan can get pissed at Kyle because sometimes Kyle completely misses individualistic points and can be a bit self-righteous while perhaps not being great at 1:1 empathy (at times even getting pissed at Stan’s depression, such as in Raisions and You’re Getting Old/Assburgers). 

But here’s the thing… 

When they respect each other and just let each other be who they are, they both are at their very best. Kyle reminds Stan that the world is worth caring about and that he can get out of his microcosm of himself and focus on the greater group. And Stan reminds Kyle that he doesn’t have to carry it alone, and that sometimes there are some more individualistic factors at play. He shows Kyle what deep emotional empathy can feel like, both on the receiving and giving end.  

They both are emotionally intense, just in different ways. They both are disgusted by injustice - Kyle from a more idealistic standpoint, Stan from a more individualistic/realistic standpoint. They both are quite pragmatic and feel disillusioned at times (often bonding over this feeling of disillusionment). They both can be fucking stupid and basically just be 10 year old kids. Yet they’re both wildly smart beyond their ages and often act as the adults in the wild situations they find themselves in. They both can be selfish, though in different ways.

And yet… they both get each other in ways most people dont; and they are at their best when they don’t ask each other to change themselves while still calling each other out when they need to. They have the same sense of humor; they can banter back and forth in both their immature ways and their more understanding ways; they share a similar wide array of hobbies and will both shred current media to pieces together.

They clash often and yet… they believe in each other. Not in a naive way. Not blindly. But in a ‘I’ve seen you at your worst and still want you around’ kind of way.

They’re equals. Even when they argue. Even when they don’t understand each other. They challenge each other constantly, and still trust each other to come back. That’s not just friendship. That’s earned, forged through fire and still water alike.

They fucking respect the hell out of each other. Kyle may yell at Stan for being too detached, and Stan may side-eye Kyle for moralizing too hard - but when push comes to shove, they instinctively turn to each other first. You can see it, this desperate need for validation from the other, like when Kyle practically begs Stan for moral absolution in crack baby athletic association, or when Stan goes to Kyle as his final lifeline in You’re getting old.

They care deeply about what the other thinks of them above anyone else. And not in a performative way. They want each others approval not because of ego- but because they respect and know the others standards actually means something to them. They want each others judgement not because it’s kind, but because it’s true.

When everything falls apart- when the town loses its mind, when things don’t make sense, when the adults become parodies of themselves- Stan and Kyle keep showing up for each other. they don’t always know how to help, but they try. They’re consistent in their inconsistency, in the way only flawed childhood best friends who’ve grown through chaos can be.

Kyle is the fire. Stan is the still water. Kyle will fight the system. Stan will wonder if the system is even fucking worth fighting for. They both argue, and they sometimes clash, and they are both STUBBORN AS FUCKING HELL. 

And yet… they believe in each other. Not blindly. Not perfectly. But completely.

They challenge each other. Call each other out. Clash hard.

But they also trust each other more than anyone else. Because…

They're equals. They highly depend on each other. They call bullshit on each other without hesitation. They fucking respect the hell out of each other, and they care highly what the other thinks of them. At the end of the day, they depend on each other, and when at their best, they balance each other out.

And that’s why, after everything… 

They’re still super best friends. And they continually choose to be super best friends. 

[andielle]

prologue|chpt. 1|chpt. 2|chpt. 3|masterlist

You and Bucky have shared this relationship for almost a year now. He sleeps with you to relieve stress, you sleep with him to free you from your slight crush on him.But what happens when Bucky breaks the rules of your relationship, and yearns for more?

MODERN! Office AU! Bucky x Reader

chapter 3: amends | 1.5k words | warnings: none!

YOU threw your work bag onto the couch, before throwing yourself onto it. You sunk into the cushions, letting out a satisfied sigh as you finally let your muscles relax.

Your relaxation was interrupted when you heard your phone vibrate in your pocket. You checked, and it was Nat. “Hey Nat,” you greeted her through the call.

“He was staring at you like a piece of meat!—I mean, he does have a staring problem, but this takes the cake,” Nat exclaimed, and you could imagine her pace around her room whilst she talked.

“Really? I didn’t notice,” you lied through your teeth. Of course you noticed, how could you not notice when his blue-gray orbs stared at you? It was unnerving sometimes, especially when he does that thing with his eyes narrowed—yeesh! It gave you the heebie-jeebies, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit warm in your core.

“Yeah okay, I just really needed to leave you both alone together, the tension was so thick you could-”

“Cut it with a knife, yes I know,” you continued her sentence for her. “Exactly,” she replied, “Do you need to talk about it? I swear, today was the first time I’ve ever seen you so… Pent up,” she asked, with worry apparent in her voice.

Pent up? I guess you could say that. Bucky was up to no good, what exactly was he trying to do? “I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me but I’ll handle it,” you reassured her.

You weren’t going to handle it, you already knew. You would just let this go by, but why? You knew that you didn’t have a crush on him anymore, you think. Yet, you still held onto this relationship like a vice, refusing to seek other people. Maybe Bucky was right, that there were a lot of people willing to be with you, you didn’t have to stay.

You have thought about this before, but the more you think about it, you realize that you really can’t imagine yourself being with anybody else. Being with Bucky, as much as it hurt the next morning, it felt right.

“I swear, if you try to keep it to yourself, I will personally come by-” her voice was interrupted by a knock on your door. You straightened up out of surprise, eyeing it.

“Somebody is at my door, I’ll call you later Nat.”

“Alright, bye,” she said right before you hung up. You stood up from your spot and you walked towards your door, your footsteps feeling heavy. Nobody ever visited you this late at night, unless…

—

“Man, I have no idea what’s going on with you and her, but she looked pretty upset back there,” Steve says worryingly as he takes the seat next to Bucky. “Is there anything I need to know?” he continued, looking at his friend, who currently had a troubled look on his face.

When Bucky didn’t answer immediately, Steve didn’t press on further, “Hey, if you need a pal to talk to, I’ll be here, alright?” Steve pats him on the back.

Bucky pursed his lips. He trusted Steve, but a part of him is guilty of what he’s done to you. He was afraid of telling Steve what had been going on. He was basically using you for months. One of the only people that liked him—he used and he hurt.

I keep my part of the agreement, no matter how hard and painful it is, and I only expect you to do the same. Painful? Was this painful for you?

“Steve, if you were ever to make amends to a woman after hurting her, how would you go about it?” Bucky finally spoke.

Steve was taken aback by the question, but tried his best to answer with full sincerity, “Well, it would be best to talk to her, one on one…”

—

Bucky paced back and forth in front of your apartment door, trying to rehearse what he wanted to say. Acknowledge that you’ve hurt her, that’s the first step to making amends. He raised a fist to knock, but he was hesitant. He took a deep breath.

Knock, knock. After a few seconds, he heard the thuds of your feet approaching the door. He held his breath.

With a click, he was met with your eyes. Your hair looked slightly dishevelled, like you were just lying down a moment before. You certainly weren’t expecting him, because your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. He has never showed up uninvited at your door, you both always came to your apartment together, but he has never personally seeked you out.

“Fancy seeing you here.” you broke the silence, your hand leaving the doorknob, so you could cross your arms. “If you’re here to sleep with me then-”

“No, no.. I’m not here for that,” he quickly said. His throat felt dry as he stared at you. He cleared his throat, “Look, I just wanted to apologize for today, I don’t know what came over me.”

You raised a brow, slightly losing your tense posture. You untangled your arms and they rested at your sides. You half-expected it to be Bucky at the door, but you didn’t expect this. You weren’t displeased though, because it felt nice to finally have him visit out of pure decision. You stayed quiet for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape.

“Do you wanna come in?”

“Please.”

You moved to the side so Bucky could step in. He was nervous, but not because he was in your apartment, no, he’s very familiar with it, especially your bedroom. He took his shoes off and headed to sit on your couch. You walked into your kitchen, with his eyes watching your every move. You eventually returned with two steaming mugs, the smell of green tea gently wafting in the air. You placed it onto the table in front of him before you took the place next to him.

He grabbed the mug, examining its whimsical design, “This looks similar to the one you gave me on my birthday,” Bucky chuckles before taking a sip of the hot tea.

“That’s because I made it, very poorly as you can tell,” you stated while sinking into your couch once again. Bucky wasn’t surprised, it seemed like you’ve done every type of art before. Yet, he was a little sad that he didn’t know this sooner.

“It looks good.” Bucky reminisced when you gave him the mug on his birthday, it was colorful and oddly shaped, and it had his name on it. He still uses that mug to this day, and it was the only thing he didn’t put in his dishwasher, he would always hand wash it, afraid of it breaking or cracking it in the machine.

He looked over at your spot on the couch, and the mug you were currently holding had your name on it too, with a similar design, it was matching.

“You know,” you blew on your tea, “It’s been so long since we’ve genuinely hung out like this,” you said before taking a small sip. You were right, it has been a long time. Ever since you both started sleeping together, the friendship before almost dissipated, leaving behind an empty cast.

“I miss it—our friendship,” you looked at him. Were your eyes teary or was it the steam?

Bucky gulped as he gaped at you. His hand twitched against the mug he was holding. He stayed silent as you continued. “I don’t mind this-” you waved your free hand around, “relationship we have, it would just really be nice to be able to talk and laugh with you again,”

He’s afraid to admit it, but he thought the same too. But he was scared to say it, why? He has opened up to you, so many times. But this relationship with you made him realize so many things about himself.

Including the fact that he wouldn’t mind being more than friends with you. In fact- no, no no no. He can’t do that to you. He’s a damaged man. He’s scared that once he has you he won’t let go. He has already been doing this to you for the past ten months, using you so he can keep you to himself without commitment. Because, he knows if you and him were anything more than that, he will be so hurt once you leave—even worse, you'll be hurt.

He is so scared.

“Are you okay?” he didn’t even notice how silent he was until he heard your concerned voice.

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine,” he blinked hard and licked his lips, he looked at you again with your worried eyes. Your eyebrows were slightly scrunched up.

“Do you-” he stuttered, “Do you mind if I…” he looked into your eyes, “Come over sometimes? At night? Just to talk and hang out, just like this,” he braced himself.

Your lips curled into a smile, and he saw that exact same spark in your eyes.

“Sure.”

[witchygagirlwrites]

Phoenix- Part 3

Kelly Severide x reader (nicknamed Phoenix)

You and Kelly agree to pretend to be a couple for one night to benefit the firehouse, this isn’t gonna bite you in the ass later

Warnings: These idiots flirting their asses off

You parked your car across from fifty one and grabbed everything you needed for shift before climbing out. A quick look to make sure the road was clear then you jogged across, it wasn’t as cold as the day of the plunge but it wasn’t exactly a scorcher either. When you made it into the side door of the bays you let out a breath and heard Kelly “Aww, is our little phoenix bird scared of some cold?”

You turned to glare at him where he was sitting in that damned recliner “Bite me severide” he winked at you “Climbing me last week and offering for me to bite you this week? I think if we keep on we may end up making people talk” you rolled your eyes as you headed inside, stopping to pat his shoulder as you leaned down to whisper in his ear “We both know you wish”  which made a couple of the guys whistle. 

You looked over your shoulder and he was watching you with a grin. God it was fun to push his buttons at any turn you could find. 

____________________

When you got to the locker room you noticed Gabby and Sylvie were watching you. “What’s up?” you asked and they shared a look before Sylvie grimaced “Kelly may have paid Cruz fifty bucks to break into your locker for him” “WHAT? WHY?” you opened up your locker, eyes scanning the contents and cursed when they fell on the photo of you and him from the paper, now tapped on the inside of the door “What the hell?”

You spun around and pushed the doors of the locker room open. Joe was in the common area, talking to Mouch and Otis. “JOE!” his eyes widened and he slid behind Otis “She likes you more, she won’t hurt you” Otis looked from you to him “What did he do?” “Broke into my locker for Severide!” Otis took two steps to the side with his hands up.

“BRIAN!” Cruz scolded and he grinned “I’m not in this! I would’ve told him no!” about that time the man of the hour walked in and that got your attention off of Cruz. You spun to face him “You!” he pointed to his chest “Me?” you nodded and grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him behind you into the locker room despite the talking you could hear from the rest of the house.

_________________________

Kelly was laughing the entire way, even when you came to a stop and slapped your locker where the photo was “What is this?” he grinned “Oh, it’s us sweetheart. I thought we looked good. I put one in my locker too” you shook your head “You’re an unbearable asshole” he leaned closer “But you flirt with me at every chance” “I said you were an asshole, not ugly” you practically growled, shoving his chest to get him to back up out of your face.

“I’ve got an offer for you” he said, leaning back in. You raised an eyebrow “And what is that?” he motioned to the photo “We got more money for our charity because people loved seeing firefighters flirting, thinking we were in a healthy and loving relationship” you nodded “Ok, and?”

“We have a fundraising gala for CFD coming up, Nix we need those thermal masks. Think of the lives we could save” you found yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek at the prospects of those masks because they could indeed save so many lives but how the hell did that have anything to do with you and…”Oh hell no” 

You spun to walk out and he grabbed your arm “Come on! You’re telling me, the damn firefighter that walked out of a fire bad enough to earn the nickname Phoenix isn’t willing to act like she likes me for a night to be able to get life saving equipment for our house?” you turned to look up at him “How the hell would we even sell that Sev?” he grinned “Well, gotta say Sev is an improvement over just Severide. You get all pretty, I’ll clean up nice. We’ll be ourselves and the only thing difference is I’ll only flirt with you that night” “Fake dating, that is such a hallmark trope” you groaned.

He laughed “What? Afraid you’ll fall for me?” you rolled your eyes “Not in a million years. Are you sure this will work? Do you know who we’d have to sweet talk to get the damned masks?” he nodded “Between me, you, Matt and Gabby? They’ll be secured by the end of the night” you groaned “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this but ok” he held out his hand so you put yours in his and shook it “Let me know what color dress you get so my tie can match” he teased and you rolled your eyes again “I’m going to regret this so damn much”

“This is insane!” you were shopping with Gabby and Sylvie. You’d told them Kelly’s insane idea to get the funding for the masks. “It did work for the plunge?” Sylvie offered and you spun around to glare at her “You’re supposed to be on MY side?” 

“Well, why did you agree to it?” Gabby asked, pulling a dress off of the shelf to look it over. You sighed “Because it did work for the plunge and if some rich idiots want to come out of their pockets because they think me and Sev are a couple, let them!” she nodded “And this whole fake dating thing has no chance of going south?” you shook your head “I know where we stand and I know he’s actually a manwhore. How could it go south?” 

She nodded then pulled a dress off the shelf and held it out to you “Try this one, it would look good on you” . It was a navy blue and gorgeous. You nodded “Ok” and took it then headed for the dressing room. Sylvie had a black dress and Gabby had a silver one. You would have to tell Kelly the color of it. Ugh that made you want to vomit but those masks were expensive and the house didn’t have the budget for them on its own.

Since you started at fifty one Kelly had been intrigued by you. Maybe it was because you always gave as good as you got. You never backed down from anything. You always teased him that you were the only person who could keep his ego in check.

This gala plan was just to get the masks, that’s what he told himself. Hell the fundraising goal had gotten tripled the day of the plunge because people liked you two “flirting” if they liked that? You two could put on one hell of an act and walk away with those masks.

The night of the gala he pulled up to your place and parked. He was five minutes early, a smile slipping onto his face when he realized that as he walked to the door. The moment he knocked he heard your voice “I’m coming!” the door opened and you were standing there, smiling actually. “Hey Sev” he froze on the spot. You’d told him you’d gotten a navy blue dress. You didn’t tell him that it hugged your curves in a way that would make his mouth water. Your hair was styled and good lord, this may be harder than he thought.

“Hey um Nix” you laughed “Ya forget my name?” and he shook his head “Had to make sure it was you. You looked too damn good to be my little chaos demon” he grinned when you rolled your eyes “Oh, now I’m your demon?” he winked at you “Well for tonight anyways?” you shook your head and grabbed your clutch bag then held out your arm “Well come on then, we got work to do”

When you and Kelly got to the entrance of the gala you pulled him to the side “Hey, ground rules?” he raised an eyebrow “Ok, what are they?” “Don’t kiss me on the lips, don’t touch my ass or tits” he laughed “That’s it?” you shrugged “We need those masks” and he nodded “Fair enough” and held out his arm “Let’s do this”

The two of you walked through the double doors together and you had to fight the urge to flinch when the flash of a photographer went off. Yeah more photos for him to sneak into your locker. You shook your head and looked around before you spotted Matt and Gabby. You tapped his shoulder and he followed your line of sight and pointed you both that way.

“You look amazing Phoenix!” Gabby greeted and you smiled “Same to you” the two of you hugged while Matt and Kelly looked at each other “You look good man” Kelly teased and Matt laughed “Same to you”

You shook your head “Ok, who has the deep pockets and how bad do we gotta play it up?” Gabby slipped her arm around your shoulders and started to point out donors. “The best play? Talk about saves, fires you’ve been in. Talk up Kelly’s saves and he needs to talk up yours” you looked back at Kelly “You hear her?” he nodded “Yes ma’am”

You rolled your eyes “Ok, divide and conquer? Meet when the food is being served?” Gabby nodded “Sounds good to me”

______________________

You and Kelly stood together, talking to the Fergusons. Apparently they’d seen the two of you together in the paper.Kelly slipped both arms around you and pulled you back against his chest “My little phoenix here is one of the best firefighters I’ve ever worked alongside and I would’ve said that even before I fell for her” “Phoenix?” Mrs Ferguson asked and Kelly smiled, almost proudly before explaining the origins of the nickname.

By the time he was done, you could tell they were hooked. “How much are those masks?” Mr Ferguson asked and Kelly ran down pricing. He nodded “Our enterprises will donate two to your station house” “Thank you so much sir” you told him and he smiled “Oh course sweetie”

_____________________

You were starving by the time you and Kelly sat down at the table with Gabby and Matt to eat. “Did we do it?” you asked, looking from Gabby to Kelly and they both nodded “We did it” you grinned “Good then it was worth dealing with Sev for the night”

“Night isn’t over sweetheart, and will you just call me Kelly?” he asked. You shook your head “Nope, still don’t like ya enough” he laughed “You will” right as the food was brought out and started to be distributed out.

______________________

You were silent in Kelly’s passenger seat. “I don’t think I pissed you off” he laughed. You shook your head “Nope, not this time. Just thinking how even if I wanted to date I’m gonna be off limits for a while until the photos fade from the CFD gala off the paper circuit”

He grinned broadly “Off limits?” you rolled your head to look at him “You’re known for a bad temper there Sev, if people think I’m yours? Doesn’t bode well for me having a love life” he shrugged “I could take care of any needs you have” you felt your face warm but rolled your eyes nonetheless “Go to hell Sev”

He shook his head “Not until I hear you call me Kelly at least one time” you laughed “Nope happening anytime soon” he shrugged “Then I have something to look forward to”

@elvenpirate51

@bonnyclydecat

[skimmingmilk]

Hi! I was wondering if you maybe had a wip of an upcoming chapter/story you plan on sharing in the future? :0 I love all your work and am excited to see what you have coming up!

Thank you so much! I absolutely have a lot of wips I'd be happy to share, I know it's been a minute since I've been able to upload something to AO3. I've been plugging away at "When the World Breaks" for the past several weeks and it's been pretty slow going :') I've had a lot more going on in the beginning of the year than I expected, so that's derailed writing quite a bit, but progress is still being made! So I'll share a little of Shamar's chapter as a sneak peek since it's been so long in the making <3

“Hey, guys! Long time no see.” Sonic flashed them a grin as two of his friends rushed over to him. “I see ya got a head start without me!”

“We wanted to let you sleep in a bit!” Chip chirped, flying in excited, dizzying circles around Sonic’s head.

“So we thought we’d take Tails’s medal tracker out for a spin and see if we could speed the process along for you,” Amy added.

Sonic’s eyes dropped to the abaya draped over her arm. “Oh, yeah. I can see that,” he snickered.

Rolling her eyes with a “tch,” Amy placed one hand on her hip. “There was a medal in the market, you know. And Tails can confirm it, too. Right, Tails?” She looked to the two-tailed fox as he finally made his way over to them, eyes still glued to his tablet.

“Yeah. But the shopping was definitely a detour.”

“Besides, we’re already ahead of schedule!” Amy waved off, ignoring Tails entirely and prompting him to finally glance up at her with a bland look. “Professor Pickle and I already figured out the next temple is in Adabat before we left. After that, there’s just one more to go!”

“Adabat, huh?” Tails hummed, punching in generic coordinates in the Miles Electric. “Not exactly next door…”

“But not on the other side of the world, either!” Sonic held up a finger. “All things considered, Adabat’s not a bad stop.”

“So, since we wanted to let you get some more rest, Professor Pickle encouraged us to do some sightseeing.”

“He said we could take in some of the sights while searching for the medals. With the emphasis being on the medals and not, you know…” Tails gestured wordlessly to the market around them.

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your point,” Amy sighed. “I still think we should get some kind of refreshment before we keep looking. It’s easy to get dehydrated in heat like this!”

“Refreshments! Yeah!” Chip did a flip in the air, then flopped atop Sonic’s head. “Please, Sonic, I’m so thirsty. It’s so dry.”

Sonic laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s get you something to drink—”

“And eat!”

“And eat,” Sonic tacked on, shaking his head fondly. 

“Perfect!” Amy clapped her hands together. “Let’s all get something to eat at a cute little cafe, then you three can go searching for more sun and moon medals while I finish up shopping! I want to pick up a little something for Cream and Vanilla while we’re here. I missed out on souvenirs while we were in Spagonia.”

Tails tucked his tablet under his arm. “I’ll meet up with you guys later. I only got to test my tracker for a little bit in Holoska, so I need more data to make sure its readings are accurate. And I want to see how much we can shave off the time we spend looking for them. The faster, the better, right?”

Sonic leaned his elbow against the top of Tails’s head. “Can’t argue that!”

Amy sighed. “You really are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?”

“The coolest cloth around.” Sonic winked, then nudged Tails. “But how ‘bout we grab something to take with us on the go? Then we can get right back to our medal mission and that big brain of yours won’t get too dehydrated before the day’s out.”

The look Tails cast him was none too impressed, but he simply released a heavy sigh and pushed Sonic’s elbow out of his personal space. “Fine. As long as it’s a quick stop. We’ve only got so much daylight before we’re slowed down by the Dark Gaia creatures.”

“‘As long as it’s quick.’ Do you know who I am?” Sonic teased.

[pit-confirm]

Date Night

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr/male reader Word count: 3k Warnings: sexual content

***

You’re so focused on the screen in front of you that you barely hear the doors opening. You lift your head just in time to see Carlos walk in.

‘Hello,’ you greet him quietly as you look him up and down. He looks a bit tired and his dark stubble makes his features more pronounced.

‘Hi, honey, I’m home,’ he replies jokingly and kicks off his shoes. You clear your throat and shoot him a pointed glance. ‘Fine, fine,’ he rolls his eyes and makes sure that his shoes are neatly arranged by the entrance. He takes off his jacket as well before he walks over to you.

‘How was the rest of your day?’ you ask him as you tilt your head up. Your eyes meet for a moment.

‘Eh, it was okay. Nothing special,’ Carlos shrugs and steps in close, leaning over your shoulder. ‘Are you working still?’

‘Just some emails I wanted to catch up on,’ you explain, feeling your attention snap back to the glowing screen again. The number 45 next to your inbox is taunting you. You furrow your brow and sigh tiredly.

‘That’s boring,’ Carlos pronounces and straightens up. He stands behind you for a while, his hands resting on the back of your chair, before he also sighs deeply. ‘That was a hint,’ he says grouchily and walks towards the bed.

Before you have the chance to open your mouth and remind him about the “no outside clothes on the bed” rule, Carlos spreads out the bed cover before sprawling out comfortably on it.

‘See?’ he asks proudly and wiggles excitedly. ‘I listen to you sometimes.’

‘I see that,’ you smile against your will. ‘Good boy,’ you add before you can help yourself. It’s true, anyway. He is good to you.

Carlos hums, content. ‘Are almost done or…?’ he starts to ask after a while.

‘I…’ you hesitate for a moment. The truth is, you’re nowhere near done and will probably take you at least an hour, if not more, to finish what you’re doing. ‘Yes, almost,’ you say eventually and decide that you will simply wake up early tomorrow morning. ‘I do need to finish this one thing first, though. So, how about you take a shower first and I’ll start on the dinner,’ you offer.

‘Shower first?’ Carlos asks and scrunches his nose. ‘Are you saying I stink?’

‘Well, you don’t smell of roses, that’s for sure,’ you joke quickly and laugh at his offended face. ‘Come on. You can do that while I wrap up my things and-’

‘You don’t want to join me?’ he interrupts you with a glint in his eye and a teasing rise of his eyebrow.

It’s tempting to say yes. Carlos is a sight to behold when naked and wet. Still, it’s better not to give in. ‘What, so I can slip and die?’ you ask right back and shake your head. You know yourself too well to even think that a joint shower would end up in anything else but a disaster. ‘No, thank you.’

Carlos narrows his eyes. He sees right through you. ‘Old man,’ he laughs eventually and gets up.

You shrug delicately - it’s one of those things you can’t argue against. Still, you try. ‘Let’s see if you’ll be calling me that later,’ you say and offer him a smile.

‘Do you promise?’ Carlos asks and bats his eyelashes comically.

‘Of course,’ you say easily and watch him pause for a moment, blushing. ‘Now, off you go,’ you motion with your head toward the bathroom and turn your attention back to your laptop.

Soon, you hear the shower turn on and your look that way. Carlos left the bathroom door ajar, an open invitation for you to join if you changed your mind. You sigh wistfully and close your laptop - you cannot pretend to be working any longer.

You get up and head to the kitchen - the set up is basic but you’ve made sure to stock up the fridge with fresh produce, so you can easily make a nice dinner for two this evening. You bring out all the ingredients, the chopping board and a salad bowl, and get to work. You quickly find your rhythm and start making a simple pasta salad.

‘This looks nice,’ comes a voice from behind your back making you jump.

‘Christ!’ you yelp, almost dropping the knife. You get ahold of yourself and shoot him a pinted glare but you soften up immediately when you see how Carlos looks. His hair is wet and messy, sticking at odd angles from where he dried it haphazardly with a towel. His skin is glowing and his t-shirt crosses the line between well-fitting and too tight. Judging by how his neck and arms stretch it out, it must be one of yours.

‘No, just Carlos,’ he grins at you and then peers over your shoulder curiously. ‘Can I help?’

‘Um,’ you hesitate for a moment. Carlos likes to talk big game but the truth is, he’s only good at preparing a very narrow selection of dishes. ‘You can chop the tomatoes,’ you say eventually and pass him the knife.

You work together side by side for a while in silence, your arms brushing against one another every now and then. It sends sparks down your spine every time it happens.

‘You can sit down,’ you say eventually and gently steer Carlos away. ‘I will finish it up and we’ll eat in a minute.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he says with an eyeroll but sits down at the small table you set up earlier. He waits patiently with his hands folded in his lap. You look at him for a moment before you go back to making the salad.

‘There you go,’ you say slowly as you place the plate in front of Carlos. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Thank you,’ he smiles and waits for you to sit with your portion before he starts to eat. ‘This is very nice,’ he says after a while and you try not to feel offended that he sounds so surprised.

‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘It was my chopping skills that made it so good, I think,’ Carlos laughs and sends you a quick wink.

‘Yes, that’s what made all the difference,’ you say flatly but you drop the act quickly. You're glad he liked it and in the end, seeing him happy is all that matters. 

You continue the meal in relative silence, eventually starting an inconsequential conversation about your respective days at work. Slowly, you empty your plates and push them aside, feeling more and more relaxed with each passing minute. Your legs touch under the table. You feel Carlos' foot press against your calf and wiggle its way under the leg of your trousers. What a tease.

‘This was nice,’ Carlos says.

‘So you've said,’ you say and realise that he wasn't done talking yet. You encourage him to continue.

‘But I think we were missing a candle here,’ he gestures towards the table that's between the two of you, devoid of any decorations.

You lift your head up and look at the fire alarm that's on the ceiling. Knowing your luck, lighting a candle would probably set it off and that's something you'd like to avoid during a romantic dinner for two. Still…

‘Next time,’ you promise.

‘Okay,’ Carlos says softly as he nods. ‘I was also promised something else, I think,’ he adds and wiggles his eyebrows.

‘You’re so impatient tonight,’ you remark, mainly for show. It's not like you're doing any better. ‘What happened to foreplay?’

‘This is foreplay, no?’ he asks and waves his hand between the two of you. ‘Come on, you can tell me I look good, so I can tell you I’d look even better naked and then we can… You know,’ he makes another one of his ridiculous faces, complete with an over the top wink.

You can no longer hold yourself back and burst out laughing.

‘Oh, you're something else,’ you say fondly and look Carlos up and down slowly, lingering on his arms which are now crossed over his chest. ‘You do look nice today,’ you say and watch the reaction even the simplest compliment has on him.

‘Ah, but you know-’ Carlos starts to say with a wide smile but you weren't done yet.

‘Must be the shirt you're wearing,’ you cut in. ‘It’s one of mine, I think.’

‘Really? I didn't notice,’ Carlos says innocently, as if is range of motions hasn't been limited by the shirt which is so tight around his broad shoulders, you wonder if he could lift his arms up without ripping it up.

‘I'm sure,’ you hum, letting him know what you really think about it. He grins back. ‘Well, I agree that it would be better if you took it off, if only to stop you from stretching it out completely.’

Now, it's Carlos' turn to laugh. ‘If you care so much about it, sure,’ he shrugs when he calms down. 

You watch him get up from the table and feel your breath catch when he unceremoniously tugs the shirt off. You reach out for him silently and he steps in close, so close that you can smell the body wash he used earlier. Also yours. You put a hand on his naked waist and grip it tightly before you can help yourself.

‘Let’s go to bed?’ you ask, hating the slight tremble that crept into your voice so quickly. You can’t even bear to tear your eyes away from Carlos for a second and look towards the bed that’s behind you.

Carlos lifts his arms and loops them around your neck. He tilts his head to the side, his heair flopping with the movement.

‘What if I like it here?’ he asks and steps between your legs. ‘Maybe I want it like this, eh?’

‘We can do it like this on the bed,’ you say gently. ‘Come on, let’s go. We’ll be more comfortable,’ you plead and rub your thumb back and forth over his hipbone.

‘We?’ Carlos snorts as he takes a small step back and helps you stand up. ‘I think you mean yourself, old man. I would be perfectly okay here,’ he says snottily and guides you towards the bed.

‘Oh, I’m- I’m sure,’ you gasp as you fall back on the bed with a quiet oof, feeling graceless. But before you have the chance to overthink that, Carlos climbs onto the bed and settles on your lap.

Your hands immediately fly to his hips, gripping them tightly. You tilt your head and your eyes meet. Your breath catches. You decide to focus on giving Carlos what he wants before you say something you cannot take back. You slowly move one of your hands up his sides and then down until it rests on his ass. You pull him closer and he groans loudly when your groins touch.

‘Is this…?’ you try to ask and pause to swallow down a moan.

‘Yes, yes,’ Carlos nods eagerly and grinds down again. ‘Exactly like that, please,’ he adds so sweetly and leans down.

You meet him halfway in a kiss that feels too gentle for how desperately Carlos is moving against you. He cups your face for a moment before his hands begin roaming over your body. You can’t tell how much time has passed before you separate to catch your breath.

‘Oh, my boy,’ you sigh softly when you see how flushed Carlos is. His cheeks are red and his lips are shiny and open. Suddenly, you get an idea. ‘Wouldn’t this be better?’ you ask as you reposition him in your lap. Now, he’s properly straddling your right thigh.

‘Is better, yes,’ he mutters and throws his head back as he rolls his hips forward. He gasps loudly.

You move to kiss his bared neck, careful not to leave any marks and wanting nothing else but do just that. Your lips scrape against his stubble and you press them where Carlos is most sensitive. In response, he quietly moans your name.

‘You’re doing good,’ you say in encouragement as you grip his hip and help him find his rhythm. He continues to grind agains your thigh, now fully hard. You reach out to undo his jeans and he breathes out in relief. You can feel the wet spot at the front of his boxers. ‘Fuck,’ you whisper quietly and kiss him properly.

This time, it’s wet and messy, with teeth biting on your lower lip. At some point, you end up loudly panting in each other’s mouths before you reconnect again. Carlos presses himself even closer and ends up toppling you over. You land on your back and the breath is knocked out of your lungs. This man… You shake your head in breathless disbelief and keep kissing him again and again until your lips feel numb. 

As he lies on top of you, Carlos finds a new angle to hump your leg. His hips are moving in small and urgent circles, his dick straining against his boxers. They must be ruined by now. You want him to soak them.

‘Keep going,’ you tell him and you tangle your hand in his hair. It’s soft to the touch. You tug on it until he arches his back and bares his neck. ‘Beautiful.’

Carlos simply whines in response. For a while, you continue just like that, alternating gentle kisses with sharp tugs to his hair, delighting in the noises he makes. You feel him getting desperate. But as soon as you think that, he changes things up. Carlos sneaks one hand between your bodies and palms you through your trousers. In all this, your erection felt like an afterthought - but now, it’s impossible to ignore. You roll your hips up.

‘Yeah?’ Carlos asks, his hot breath hitting you on the cheek. You nod quickly.

He doesn’t bother unzipping your trousers properly, he simply opens them just enough so that he can put his hand down your boxers and grab your cock. He wraps his hand around it and begins to jerk you off in time with how he humps your leg.

‘You’re so good to me,’ you say in awe as you cup his face. Carlos looks at you with his brown eyes which seem to glisten with tears. 

He must be close - you know this, because he doesn’t reply to you anymore. He just nods and groans, his mouth falling wide open. Before you can think about it, you push your fingers in. He sucks on them eagerly. You feel his hips stutter against you, his hand comes to a stop. You have to guide him for him to resume his previous rhythym. It feels more frantic now.

‘Good boy,’ you praise him and that’s when it happens. He rolls his hips forward once, twice, and comes agains your leg. You can feel the wet spot grow where your bodies are touching. He slumps in your arms, his head resting in the crook of your neck, and whines quietly.

You try to focus on running your hands through his hair in a calming motion, on rubbing comforting circles on his back. But you feel so close to the edge yourself that you end up rolling your hips against his hand where it’s still loosely wrapped around your cock. Carlos knows how you like it best, so he immediately tightens his grip and starts to jerk you off properly. It doesn’t take you long before you begin to groan. Your feel yourself tense before everything becomes so overwhelming, that you squeeze your eyes shut. You come in his hand with a low-pitched moan.

Now, you both fall into each other, boneless and breathless. You hum quietly, content. Carlos echoes the sound. Eventually, he rolls to the side and rests his head on your chest. You look down on him and see his eyes dropping shut. He’s trying to fight it.

‘That was nice,’ Carlos says eventually, his voice rough. It sends a shiver down your spine because from his tone, you know he’s not talking just about the sex.

‘Yes, it was,’ you say quietly and run your hand down his spine. You’re already thinking about when you can plan for such a Sunday evening again.

‘I like this, you know,’ Carlos continues and gestures vaguely. He lifts his head and looks straight at you. ‘This date night idea was a good one.’

‘Thank you,’ you smile at him softly. ‘Will you-?’

‘But just one thing,’ he cuts you off and reaches out to grab your hand. ‘Next time, you should maybe remember to take off your ring,’ he says archly.

Something in your chest clenches painfully at that. Still, you know very well that Carlos pays extra attention to the ring you wear on your left hand, either playing with it or licking around it teasingly when you put your fingers in his mouth.

‘I will do that next time,’ you promise him, knowing very well that you won’t do it. ‘I’m guessing that you won’t be staying tonight?’

‘No,’ Carlos shakes his head and settles back on your chest. ‘I fly out tomorrow morning and I still need to pack. But I will see you soon, no? You will be there on Wednesday?’

‘Yes, I will,’ you confirm. ‘I’m flying with the rest of the team.’

‘Okay,’ he says softly and sighs. ‘I still have a some time,’ he adds and looks at you with his wide eyes.

‘Let’s just do this, then,’ you say, matching his tone. You hold him close and play with his hair idly, focusing on the movement so intensely that any and all thoughts of the next week’s race are pushed out of your head. Right now, it’s still Sunday and your date night with Carlos is still happening - and you will keep on prolonging it until one of you really needs to get up and shatters this beautiful illusion. Carlos seems to think the same as he lies in your arms. You’re both happy like this.

This smau is a part of the Online Disinhibition Effect fic.

[hrtfelt4u]

heartstrings. | wonbin park.

034. learning curve. (written portion)

“Oh my gosh, this cheesecake smells so good,” You groan while getting in the passenger seat. 

Your boyfriend chuckles at your pained expression as you gingerly sit with the dessert for this gathering in your lap. He kisses you quickly, finding you cute before clicking in your seatbelt and closing the car door. 

Wonbin rounds the car to get in the driver seat, giving you an amused side eye. 

“You know I won’t snitch if we eat a little bit of the cheesecake before we go in.” 

You laugh, knowing he was saying this, only because he was dying to eat this cake you’d gotten on a whim two days ago. 

You had called him on the way back from work, craving something sweet. Of course, Binnie had encouraged you to buy the cheesecake from the bakery you walked by to the subway station home, promising you’d dig into it together after he was free from his long shifts in the studio.

“Oh trust, it’ll be the first thing I bite into. Besides,” You pat your belly, “I’ve prepared myself all day for the good food we’re about to eat tonight.”

Wonbin shifts to pull out of your apartment’s parking complex, now heading to Jurin’s place. “You know, Tonie says he’s getting sushi from that restaurant we tried… what? Our second date?”

You gasp. “Stop it, I’m so excited. Me and Juria literally order from there all the time when working our shifts at the Fix.” 

Wonbin raises his eyebrows at that, biting his lower lip and you immediately connect the dots at his expression. 

“Worried about those two tonight?”

Bin hums. “A little. But, they’ve been doing just fine being civil. I’m surprised you said Juria was coming tonight.” 

“Because she just broke up with Leehan? Yeah, honestly, she’s handling it better than I thought. Jurin gave her a big speech about not prioritizing a relationship recently and I think she’s turning a new leaf.” 

Your boyfriend takes a sneak peek of your face, trying to read whether this talk he knew Anton was going to initiate with Juria tonight would go well. 

“Why do you think that?”

You let out a sigh as you think of Juria in the past two weeks, reflecting on your close friend. “She seems way better than now that she’s let us in more after everything. As bad as partying is as a coping mechanism, it has definitely helped her move on.” 

Wonbin snorts, giving you a knowing look. “The collateral of you helping Juria move on is you arriving at my doorstep tipsy.” 

You give a playful slap to his arm. “As if you and Sion aren’t amused at my antics.”

Bin’s jaw drops at your words, slowing to a stop at a red light, “You and Sion are menaces at 3 AM. It was already a handful with him climbing the kitchen counters while drunk. Now you join him up there while he’s completely sober.” 

Giggling into Wonbin’s shoulder, you give a sweet kiss to his cheek in apology. “Sorry baby. I can’t help that our great minds think alike!” 

“Whatever,” He rolls his eyes, “I’m glad to hear Juria’s doing better. Even if your liver is suffering from it.” 

You run a hand through the back of Wonbin’s dark hair, your heart squeezing in affection. “Hey, you’ve been super stressed since you’ve started working on the album. You should let loose tonight.”

“Maybe,” Wonbin sighs, pressing his lips to your wrist quickly before accelerating on the green light, “I have to get up early tomorrow so we’ll see.” 

“I’ll drive us home later. You could smoke if you wanted to.” You earnestly offer, making Wonbin grin. 

“Hmm, I don’t want to be too sluggish for work tomorrow, baby. And we’ll be going on our date after too.” 

You nod in understanding. “Well regardless, I’m happy to be going out with you tomorrow. We haven’t gone out in the city for a date in a while… since we got together actually. As much as I love hanging out watching TV in my apartment, I want to go to that pumpkin patch with you so bad. Especially now that it’s getting colder in the fall! We have to carve pumpkins together, for sure.” 

Wonbin is happy to see you so ecstatic about the idea as he reverses into a parking lot in Juria’s apartment complex. 

“Me too, pretty. Can’t wait,” He pecks your lips before lifting the cheesecake from your lap and pulling the champagne from the backseat of the car, “Let’s go, shall we?” 

Jurin is excited to see you both, your mutual friend hugging you tight in greeting before easing the things you both brought onto the kitchen counter. She searches a drawer for a bottle opener as you and Wonbin greet everyone cheerfully and settle down in the living room with champagne.

The spinach dip is getting devoured quickly, and a blunt is getting passed around. The only people missing were Hannie, Juria, Sohee, and Anton. Hannie said he would be coming late from work, obviously since Sion and Wonbin were both here now and not slaving on said album that they were working on. 

Sohee and Juria were arriving together, your coworker having kindly offered to keep her company to pick up her salad tonight. Anton seemed backed up with his takeout order since the restaurant he was ordering from was crazy busy. 

Eunseok is currently being grilled about his girlfriend, which was extremely fun to watch. Your friend of three years has never been one to talk too much about his personal life, even as you’ve known him for so long. It was fascinating to see him open up to new people, especially in contrast Sion and Jurin who were currently investigating him like he’s under arrest.

“Alright, enough about my love life,” Seok groans, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to Channie beside him.

“You know who’s relationship status is more interesting than mine? This hooligan.”

Sungchan looks up from his phone, a puppy-like lost expression pasted on his face. “What?”

Jurin grins like she’s gotten treasure, scooching closer as she digs into the dip on the coffee table. Wonbin laughs into your shoulder, subtly pointing to Chi and Taro getting close on the opposite couch while nursing a soju bottle. 

Sometimes the two lovebirds often got caught up in their own world; everyone seemed to be used to it by now, which was funny given the jokes in the groupchat earlier today about them being cozy on Jurin’s couch. 

“—No one ever said anything about a girlfriend, alright?” Sungchan’s shoulders are high in the air, defending himself from some accusations.

Eunseok rolls his eyes. “Exactly! The dictionary of non-commital has you on its front page.”

Sion takes a sip of his beer, humming and pointing to Channie accusingly. “Don’t tell me you’re stringing along the poor girls on Main Ave, man.”

You happily butt in, causing your best friend to narrow his eyes on you. 

“Quite the contrary actually. The men and women of Main Ave. happily fall to this man’s feet, even with said warning!” 

Jurin hums, clinking bottles with Channie. “My boy just has game like that. What can he say?”

“Don’t encourage the guy, he’s run into many issues with this already. Like, what if he’s slept with one of our exes before, huh? The probability is higher than you think.” Eunseok mutters, Sion bursting out into laughter. 

“Oh, for sure, there’s got to be some overlap in here… And I’m not just speaking on the whole atrocity of Sohee and Hannie dating She-Devil Corporate a while back.” 

As if on cue, Sohee opens the door with Juria trailing behind him.

Jurin almost spits out her gulp of beer at the coincidence of Sion’s joke, gathering everyone’s attention as Chi quickly brings a napkin to her friend’s lips. 

“Girl, you’re always yelling at us about getting your rug dirty with shoes and here you are, messing up your own furniture!” Chi shakes in amusement.

Taro gets up to greet the two in the kitchen and while at it, gets paper towels for Jurin. The two arrivals happily dap everyone up and you pat a spot beside you for Juria. She gingerly sits, starting to tease at the grasp Wonbin has on you.

“No one here’s taking her from you, bud! Relax.” Juria giggles, pouring herself champagne and sipping it. 

“Not if I could help it,” Sohee playfully leans down to threaten Binnie, squeezing by you three to plop onto the couch, “Before you, there was me.” 

“Funny story actually,” Sion butts in with glee, making your boyfriend nervous, “Remember when I first met you and Sohee? I had texted Bin, thinking you both were together, and man, this guy was whipped from the start.” 

“Oh, don’t make fun of me, you asshat…” Wonbin throws his head back against the couch, causing you to laugh. 

“Everyone knows you’re a total loser for YN already, Bin. Just take the loss.” Taro teases, slapping a hand to his friend’s shoulder as he makes his way back to his seat. 

“You were jealous of little old me? I’m flattered.” Sohee lands a palm of his heart.

“Mind you, this was before I knew he was your coworker.” Wonbin states, eyes sharp.

“You mean my work husband.” You correct with a sly smile, Bin shaking his head in mirth before tugging you closer. 

Channie pretends to gag across the room, making Seok slap the guy’s neck at his dramatics.

“Work wife, YN. Get it right.” Sohee corrects matter-of-factly. 

“Speaking of wife…” Taro brings everyone’s attention back over to him, making multiple people gasp. You and Juria immediately jolt up from your seats, gagged. Even Seok’s jaw is dropped, Channie slapping a hand to his head. 

“No fucking way, you didn’t!” Jurin screams, Sion quickly corrects the woman’s grip of her beer bottle in urgency.

“Holy shit, are you two serious?!” Wonbin tugs you back down to peek past your form, Chi slyly grinning with her left hand behind her back. 

Juria squeals in excitement as your best friend slowly brings her hand forward, only to have everyone groaning in disappointment. Taro and Chi are bursting out into laughter as everyone gives them dirty looks, Chi’s ring finger encased with a badly twisted soju loose cap.

“You fuckers…”

“You two are evil, seriously!”

“What is wrong with you two…”

Taro is doubled over in laughter, pointing straight at Wonbin’s face. He’s so breathless, Chi explains with a fat grin on her face. 

“Guys, it was a joke! C’mon, it was funny!”

“They love torturing us…” Channie slams back a sip of his beer, exhausted. 

“Didn’t know you all were so invested in our future.” Taro says in teasing. He’s obviously very happy everyone seemed so excited at the thought of him proposing. 

“Of course we are, you imbeciles! Out of all of us, you’ll be getting hitched first obviously.” Juria pouts, upset about the prank.

“Truly. As much as I hate on your lovey-dovey asses, one of you would have to perish before you broke up. You have no choice but to get married by the way.” Jurin jokes.

Chi waves her ring-less hand in the air. “You’re all sooo dramatic.” 

“Not really!” You point out, “If you two get engaged, it’ll be proof that the curse of Main Ave. relationships aren’t real. You’ll probably make the city news.” 

“Wow…” Wonbin drags out behind you settled back in the cushions, making you twist around to his kidding smile, “No faith in us, huh?”

“Ugh, I have much faith in you two.” Channie groans. 

You laugh, squeezing your boyfriend’s flush cheeks before looking over to Sungchan. “Don’t kid yourself, Channie. You’re the one that’s been so up in our business from the start.”

Channie pulls a face like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You deliver a dead-straight face to Wonbin, “He’s lying straight to our faces by the way.”

Your best friend decides now is the time to mention the food, Channie standing up with a clap. “Alright, who’s hungry? I’m starving!”

Everyone agrees and starts heading to the kitchen. Plates and utensils are being pulled out just as the door opens again, this time Anton poking his head in. He smiles easily, greeting everyone and adding a huge tray of sushi to the mix. 

You slyly look over to Juria across the kitchen to gauge everything. You used to be pretty confident about the two’s stalemate since Juria had gotten together with Leehan, but obviously, that’s over now. 

Having a slight clue on how strongly Anton still felt for Juria, you wonder whether your friend would stand strong in her resolution to be single for a while. Not that you doubted her decisions but, the two had always been a reckon to bet with. 

Those thoughts solidify as Anton subtly glides his eyes’ over everyone loading up their plates. He lingers on Juria for a split second before moving on, scratching at his neck like he’s nervous. 

“What’s that?” You bump Wonbin, bringing his attention to your curiosity. He shrugs but you know better, smiling at his attempt to lie to you. 

“You’re such a bad liar to me. It’s cute.” 

You’re charmed by Bin’s growing smirk. 

“We shouldn’t be in our friends’ business, pretty. You’re the one that told me that recently.” 

“You just have this sneaky look on your face.” Your eyebrows pull together, Bin placing sushi on your plate.

You both settle back on the couch, everyone slowly following suite and fighting on what to put on the TV. 

“Well, let’s just put it this way,” Bin whispers in your ear, making you turn in his proximity, “Would you let anything get in between you and me YN?”

Confused, you pull back a little. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, “I think the two are kind of similar to us— in a good way. Sure, it’s been months, Anton let his jealousy get a hold of him at one point and Juria’s been with someone else but… They always manage to gravitate towards each other in the end, whether they like it or not.”

You softly smile. “I get what you mean. But do you not have faith in Tonie moving on?”

“Do you have faith Juria can?”

Pondering, you observe Juria again, watching as she giddily settles into her seat. She’s happily munching on the sushi Tonie had gotten, maybe or maybe not acknowledging that she knows so clearly the man had gotten it on her behalf.

“Alright, you’re not wrong.” You laugh a little, meeting Binnie’s gaze again, “Regardless, let’s skip the learning curve our two idiot friends’ are currently experiencing and not let people get into between us. Sound good?”

Wonbin only nods resolutely, pecking your lips before forking a piece of cheesecake on his plate and bringing it to your big smile.

___

(ignore timestamps unless stated otherwise)

author's note: i love writing their friend dynamics </3 also i adjusted the past chapter to match the timeline sorry!! hehe

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[dekusleftsock]

I think that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding of what exactly is…happening with Izuku’s character. Specifically in regards to chapter 425.

I’m glad that a lot more people generally recognize that Izuku is not a character that can be read at a surface level, given that he’s both a repressed person with built up emotion of basically everything and also a very glaringly HUGELY unreliable narrator, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with the ways I’ve seen this most recent chapter spoken about.

I see posts, comments, etc with ideas like “Izuku don’t suppress your emotions! Open up with people! It’ll be okay I promise!” When that’s fundamentally not what is happening here.

There’s always always ALWAYS been a distinct difference in character throughout horikoshi’s writing when he is showing that a character is:

A—Avoiding emotions, thoughts, ideas less than ideal for them. Not opening up when they probably should about their problems given that they’ve been handed the space to do so. Just genuinely not acknowledging, feeling, or expressing emotions that they don’t want.

B—Reflecting on the ways they feel about the world, themselves, or other people given their new perspective on a situation. Not outright reaching out to others to talk about these problems/feelings, but instead waiting until the moment they feel they have the most confidence to do so with their new outlook on their own life.

And genuinely, guys, to grab your BkDk attention rn, this is the exact reason why Ochako’s reflection on her feelings for Izuku and thereafter decision to pull away from them WAS NEVER GOING TO END IN OCHAKO EXPLODING WITH HER LOVE FOR HIM.

This was another common interpretation I saw of Ochako and Izuocha for a long time. That because she pushed these feelings away, they were somehow going to explode in this unbelievable way and she would “get the boy” because of it. That her arc would surround accepting her romantic feelings and that she can’t just push away how she feels for a career.

But yk. That didn’t happen. At all. Nowhere close even.

The same kind of goes for Katsuki, allmight, etc. They all had moments in their arc where it was spent genuinely reflecting, and the only reason we as the audience never connected it in the same ways we do ochako or Izuku was ALWAYS BECAUSE the narrative showed their inner thoughts while doing so (mostly because Allmight’s arc after losing OFA and Katsuki’s arc on what it means to be a hero were so intrinsically tied, both starting at the same time and ending at the same time during the final war. And because they were so tied this caused their own reflections, development, and thought process to be broadcasted to us frequently throughout their arcs… to each other. They also somewhat shared aspects with Izuku, but these were cherry picked more often than not, like dvk2 for example).

To us Katsuki never seemed to be.. idk, suppressing his anger in any way because we were always told what he was doing and why (side note: this is why I’ve always thought arguments against Katsuki were so weird, bc unlike characters like endeavor or Ochako he wasn’t like… hiding who he was and how he was changing. Ever. Like the audience knows at all times past basically season 3 what Katsuki is thinking and doing. Like how do you watch this happen, stare me dead in the eye, and tell me how much of a terrible and awful teenage boy he is. Like damn I didn’t think we were this dumb. This is also my theory as to why he’s most popular, his arc is very… in your face if that makes sense). Katsuki’s entire mini arc on reflecting his mistakes and his childhood and his future is spent TELLING YOU that it’s what he’s doing. (I’m referring mostly to the endeavor internship arc, the provisional license exam makeup, and basically everything in the war arc related to him leading up to bakugou Katsuki rising here)

And see, Horikoshi will stare you dead in the eye, tell you “this girl has taken into consideration that she doesn’t want to waste her time training her career focusing on a boy because he kinda caught her fancy”, and y’all will still say that this will explode in her face.

Y’all this is a series about learning how to manage emotions, maturity in relationship to one’s emotions, how to feel an emotion, but in a way that is helpful. Horikoshi isn’t telling you “go buck wild, feel everything all the time and always express it”, in fact he explores why you DONT do that! Through Toga or Shigaraki, they show how grief and anger can genuinely consume you. But he also shows why you shouldn’t just put everything in a box to never look at or acknowledge, or why you shouldn’t just let your grief destroy the world around you, or pretending that some emotions simply don’t exist.

I can’t say this enough, so let me say it now, mha is about the extremes of your psyche. That you should control something, but not too much. Everything can be harmful. Everything can be good.

Izuku is not controlling too much, he’s expressing just enough.

I LOVE shaming this dickhead at all times in all my posts. I love saying he’s an ignorant dipshit with a weird amount of distaste for a girl who just confessed to him. I’ve joked that chapter 348 is basically an entire chapter spent on Izuku calling Himiko a mean dyke. And yet I also believe he’s doing nothing WRONG here.

In fact, I’ll even say that this moment right here?

ISNT EVEN IZUKU DOING THE SOCIALLY APPROPRIATE THING ABOUT IT! But he’s still TRYING to reach out to someone he thinks MIGHT be able to understand. (And frankly, this moment is far deeper than what it’s being made out to be, to me it reads more like an unrequited friendship that Izuku both desires and has thought of them to have, while simultaneously showing the distance Ochako has successfully wedged between them for her own sake. Maybe it was always there though, maybe in weird, miscommunicated Horikoshi fashion, this is a representation of how Ochako always read all those “fun friend hangouts” as a little more than that, and without those feelings the friendship never really held any substance to her in the first place. Where Izuku saw his first real friend at UA, she saw little more than acquaintance)

Simultaneously, Izuku is genuinely reflecting on what it means for the world to change, to be a hero, to live after loss—and trying and failing to gain the connection he desires from individuals who can not and will not afford him that.

Izuku is ready for the world to change, a few select characters are also ready for the world to change (mirio, for example), but not nearly enough are. So maybe I’ll have to take this back if I’m proven wrong and I accidentally looked into this far past what everyone else did for no reason, but I genuinely believe with moments like this

And this

Aand this

That Izuku has come forward with that aspect of his character development. He’s reflecting on his new beliefs, not repressing his emotions for them.

[sejarcus-archive]

Modern Sejarcus au based on the lyrics of Good Luck, Babe!, in which they’re childhood friends who grew up in a homophobic small town, and though it came with a lot of pain, Sejanus was able to accept that he’s gay, but Marcus can’t bring himself to do the same and keeps living in denial, so when they eventually develop feelings for each other, all of this leads to a pretty toxic homoerotic situationship