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theonottsbxtch · 12 hours ago

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I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

taglist: @sp1rl @yennasaurusrex @ellen3101 @firefirevampire @directioner5life @littlegrapejuice @obxstiles @scopeiguess @newlifeforus @justsisse @zestytimbit @taygrls @charlosvibesonly @sparkleofpizza

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leandra-kinard · 1 day ago

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I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

#work culture #labor laws #workers rights #adhd

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dollishbabess · 3 days ago

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batboys hcs with a architect s/o and how she’s so talented into architecture and critics places they go too for fun?? 😭😭 your writing is so fucking amazing omg (please write more)

‘THIS PLACE COULD USE A EXTRA… SHINE’ ── .✦ DOLLISH

a/n: this made me laugh so hard because I’M MAJORING IN ARCHITECTURE RN in college and it’s so funny receiving this but yeah literally tysmm and I will be like refreshing my ‘page’ if it makes sense so I’ll writing more often from now on so get ready.

Tags: batboys x architect!fem!reader

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick is amazed by your architectural skills and loves to hear you talk about your designs and the inspiration behind them. He’s always asking you for design tips for his own living space in Blüdhaven asking if you can spice his furniture in his apartment and etc.

When the two of you go on dates or to art exhibits, Dick is the type to listen to your critiques and try to pick up on architectural details, though he’s more likely to focus on the overall vibe of the place than technical elements. He loves hearing how you appreciate places that balance form and function.

One of his favorite things is visiting old, historic buildings or new constructions with you and asking your opinion on how they’ve been designed. He’ll even take notes when you go on architectural tours. (You once joked that the ceiling of a museum looked like it was gonna topple on someone and you swear you saw him tense up so fast moving a few inches from you)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason is the most curious about your work, wanting to know every detail about how buildings are designed and what makes them stand out. He’ll often ask about the story behind a particular structure or the challenges faced in a project (he’s just a curious boy🥺🥺)

When you’re out and about, Jason can be pretty critical too, especially about how places are put together. If a building seems impractical or poorly designed (like small stalls for bathrooms and just that shitty nonsense), he’ll express his frustration, and you’ll be right there with him offering insightful critiques. You both tend to agree on bad urban planning and laugh about it.

He’ll enjoy taking you to abandoned warehouses or old buildings in Gotham to test your architectural knowledge. Sometimes, you both challenge each other to design something better or fix up a dilapidated structure together.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim is very impressed by your intellect and the level of detail you put into your architectural designs. He admires how you view the world through the lens of space, function, and beauty.

Tim loves to dive into deep architectural discussions, analyzing how places are structured. He might even pull out his phone to look up blueprints or information about buildings while you're at a location, appreciating the design choices. He enjoys debating the merits of modern architecture versus classic styles with you.

Tim would likely plan visits to art museums or landmarks that have a rich history of architectural design. He’d love to hear your thoughts on every building and structure, and he’ll probably surprise you by arranging a private tour with an expert in architecture.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce doesn’t show much outward enthusiasm about your work, but it’s clear that he values your opinion. He appreciates your attention to detail, especially when it comes to Gotham’s urban design. He’s likely to ask for your advice when dealing with the renovations or restoration of the Wayne estate or other properties.

Bruce is very into efficiency and functionality. When you critique a building, he’ll listen intently and agree with your assessments if they make sense, especially when it comes to practicality. He appreciates your ability to separate the aesthetic from the real-world needs of a space.

Bruce might take you to visit some of Gotham’s oldest buildings, showing you around his favorite spots. He values your perspective and loves seeing the city through your eyes, especially when you point out potential improvements. He’s also secretly proud of your talent and often encourages you to push boundaries with your designs.

@dollishbabess made by me, do not translate or copy or put on a different platform.

Second divider @cafekitsune

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tossawary · 2 days ago

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I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

#tossawary merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #long post #tossawary watching #spoilers #character death

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rin-solo · 3 days ago

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Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

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moony-balloons · 2 days ago

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Regarding it feeling like an ending, it sort of does, but also there's a "secret ending" which is really just a real short little scene that plays after everything else is done, which sets up for a new conflict. I don't think this is the end of the series.

I'm so with you though, the lack of variety in dialogue choices was rough and some parts really did not need the quips. But it wasn't far off of what I'd have wanted for this particular character anyway so it wasn't a HUGE issue lol. The different way they did the dialogue with the companions at the lighthouse was kind of a good and bad thing, on the one hand I liked seeing them talk to each other more, but on the other hand it felt like I got to talk to them less. And then both characters turn and look at you in unison after they finish their conversation lmao… so uncomfortable. I also romanced Lucanis and wish there had been more of it, like it's barely even acknowledged up until you get to that endgame point of no return. Romance a sweet assassin man and go almost the whole game without kissing him once… unconscionable. Cruel and unusual punishment.

You're super right that they could have leaned harder into giving Rook difficult choices to make, the Minrathous/Treviso one was good (I also saved Treviso on the grounds that Minrathous is probably better able to defend against a dragon, but it seems not) but that was kinda the only one? Except the Neve/Bellara one at the end but they got better, so. It was rough being a Shadow Dragon myself and walking around Dock Town seeing those gallows with other Shadow Dragons though. But like even at the very end, it seems like you don't even really have a choice to make, cause the only way to keep the veil up is to bind it to Solas, and for that he needs to be alive, so the only choice is whether he does it willingly? I was fully expecting to decide whether he lives or dies and was further expecting that it would be difficult to get him out of that alive. He must be too essential to further storylines for that though, idk. It was great getting his backstory too, and it was a lot of fun getting silly little peeks due to living in his house. Like Bellara noting that the only food in the pantry when they got there was salted meat, "seemingly untouched" raisins, and honey, while Varric going "I don't know why this place even has a kitchen, I never once saw him cook anything".

Overall I really enjoyed it and I'm glad you did too!

Alright, time to share my opinions about Veilguard!! I have both criticism and praise so bear with me as I jump from one extreme to the other 😆 spoilers ahead of course!

The game has a very rough start with the dialogue being formulaic and rushed and the characters overexposing. It feels like a heavy handed attempt at summarizing all of previous games' lore for newcomers or in case you forgot but it's so overdone it feels coddling and trivializes a lot of previous events. Luckily this gets better once all of the introductions are out of the way, though the excessive hints and clarifications continue until the end sadly.

The locations are absolutely incredible and very diverse!! This is a highlight of the game for me. There is so much detail and care in every map and there are so many of them. My pc is struggling to reach medium settings and yet everything looks stunning. The verticality of the maps is so imposing and the graphics have a very dreamy quality that I love. I also enjoy the maze-like structure to the maps, it's more linear but makes everything look a bit more intentional. The color and light direction was amazing, all the visual development really!! it has to be one of the prettiest games I've ever played.

When I started I have to admit it did not feel like I was in Thedas and it all felt a bit theme-parky, if that makes sense. A lot of previously important and established world elements that made Thedas what it is were overlooked or made irrelevant. But the more I played the more it started to feel a bit more similar to Inquisition, for better or worse depending on what you feel about Inquisition. But!! this also feels like a selectively sanitized version of Thedas compared to previous games. In it's attempt to stay safe and uncontroversial in some aspects it loses a lot of substance and it changes the tone. The surface level politics, ignoring previously established major societal issues and a tell-don't-show approach makes the world seem more simple and shallow with no grey areas to explore. ( the humor also falls flat and out of place often too, and WHY is everyone always smirking, enough!! godlike beings are destroying the planet please this is not the time for Marvel banter aaaa )

The pacing at the start is a bit of a mess. It is so fast it felt like jumping from one world shattering discovery to the next with no time to process. The characters also seem to underreact to important information and major developments. It felt like the game was rushing me through all this to get to the part of the story it wanted to tell me while I was still wrapped in my shock blanket trying to catch my breath lmao. I really like all the key story points they touched upon, I just wish they dwelled more on them to give them more narrative weight. ( though blaming every bad thing to ever happen on the Elves was certainly..a choice )

I think the writing could have used more subtlety in the first half and more boldness in the second 😆 but I loved the thematic parallels between Rook and Solas and how every quest informs the main storyline. I do wish Rook was given more impossible choices and put in more difficult situations that forced them to lie or betray their own to better drive the point home though ( listen I just love a Trolley problem!! we need more of those, I'm the Trolley problem's number one fan!! ) I feel like they missed the chance to put Rook in Solas' role and be as vilified and hated for it as Solas was despite their best intentions which would make Rook's regrets stronger and in turn make their escape from the fade all the more impressive and give them a better understanding of Solas to either use against him or earn his respect. The line 'they called me the Dread Wolf, what will they call you when this is over' from the trailers was so good I was waiting for this!! But everyone just loves Rook no matter what!!

But I feel like I stated too many negative aspects in a row so moving on to some things I enjoyed!

The characters were very lovable to me. The romances weren't as long or impactful as I would have liked but I enjoyed all the companion quests. Emmrich is a delight and his quest is so wild and fun. I loved learning about Nevarra and I was awestruck by the Grand Necropolis. The mourn watch was so interesting, it showed a whole new side of Thedas' lore I knew nothing about! and I loved Manfred! Davrin is so charming, he became a favorite. I loved his quest too and learning more bits and pieces about the Dalish was great, I wish we got more. Seeing the Wardens through his quest also made me enjoy them a lot. Assan was very cute too and I'm glad he was treated as an animal and not turned into a goofy Disney sidekick too much lmao 😭 Lucanis is hilarious. The fantasy Spain/Italy was a bit silly and off at times but he is very sweet! and I love the Spite possession, that was so fun I'm glad they kept him that way! Bellara is adorable, her first backstory quest made me cry and I just love a nerd! I wish the second part of her story was written better however, and she sort of devolves into 'it's hard, I wish it was easy but it's hard' dialogues too often sadly. Anaris and the Forgotten Ones' portrayal was underwhelming and anticlimactic which was disappointing. Harding is also very cute and her Titan plotline was the most interesting to me, I bawled my eyes out in her quest!! I love the dwarven lore of this universe I'm so happy we got more of it!! ( she also fucking died in my playthrough?! I was devastated what the hell 😭 'whatever it takes' WEUEUGHHHG I'M SO SORRY) Neve was a slow burn for me because of my choices in game slowing that relationship down ( saving Treviso I mean, perdón amor 🙏 ) but I love detective novels and she is such a badass I ended up loving her. Taash was unexpected, I didn't think they would be so young. The coming of age story was sweet, though I found myself cringing a lot too at the handling of it I have to admit ( and the Lords of Fortune in general, and the Antaam...and que Qun..listen- kajshfgf ) but I also enjoyed learning more about the first expedition and the Qunari in general despite the messy writing and choices. I also loved Antoine and Evka! and Strife! And I haven't even read any of the novels they are in 😆 also Mila!!!! and her dad oh my god and Felassan haunting the narrative!! speaking of haunting, I would have loved for Cole to be in the lighthouse too I think it would have worked well 🤔 especially with the whole 'reading Solas' secret diary' thing the game had going on lmao

Everyone seems to get along except for a bit of friction that is quickly resolved at the start, which is hmm missed potential? I would have preferred more tension personally. I enjoy the drama! gives me more to work with and gives you a better grasp on everyone's personality by contrasting values. I think they wanted to speed run a found family trope for the new hero to establish some emotional stakes early on but it ended up making everyone seem like a group therapy session instead. The group meetings also have everyone either state the obvious or repeat the same opinion or conclusion to each other, I would have loved these meetings to have more bickering, have people get mad and storm out and also get to listen to different takes on a situation. Make Rook struggle more to take the reins and keep the team functional, learning how to be a leader.

Speaking of Rook! ( who in my case has a northern British accent that I loved so much 🥺) They seem to have a very established personality. I was expecting more of a blank slate but I'm lucky that the personality they went for kind of matches what I would normally choose in a first playthrough. Though the lack of range in the choices is irritating and takes away some replayability and role playing potential. Rook is very supportive and selfless, I wasn't expecting this tbh! But it all made my Rook turn into the team's weird supportive necromancer mom so it worked out in the end I guess lmao. I can't wait to draw her!!

I was so overwhelmed by the amount of information we got about Solas and his past!! I was expecting answers but not these many and not for them to be such an integral part of the plot!! The game feels like it's about him more than anything else. His arc is the best written out of all. He is mentioned in every conversation, he's the main advisor and the narrative foil, you get to talk to him often, you work for him and with him and go into his memories it all feels so surreal to me lmao I love him so I'm delighted ngl! but also making the other Evanuris so cartoonishly evil makes Solas into such an obvious choice of an ally, god of trickery or not, that it sort of takes the decision out of your hands and makes some dialogue options and companions' opinions seem almost nonsensical. I have no idea how this game would feel to someone who absolutely hates Solas' guts honestly. I suppose I will find out soon enough 😆

About Solas' story, I loved it! I somehow also feel that I knew it already, all the speculation and theories that Solavellan fans were crafting for years were so accurate that it was all very validating. Even the wildest ones! Solas as the Maker, the elves spirit origin, Mythal giving him a body, the war with the Titans, the origin of the Blight, Solas being on your side as advisor, I can go on, we knew!! Also I have to mention this I'm sorry but they made him look so hot!! unbelievable. And the bloodied teary eyed pathetic look in the end ouurghhh I'm cheering and clapping!!

The romance conclusion was so lovely 😭 the Loki and Sigyn ending we deserved to such a mythological epic!! and open ended enough for all of us to cook!! and we got to see him fight and transform into the Dread Wolf!! and whimper and cry!! and bleed and love!! that's all I ever wanted, incredible we were really spoiled what the hell I still can't believe it 😭 GDL acting was brilliant as usual! the visuals were also incredible and exactly what I had in mind when I imagined where the story may go, the eclipse, the giant wolf, the glowing eyes, the Elvhenan ruins, the statues, even the hair lmao it all aligned exactly to what I've been painting all these years but better I was thrilled 😭

Solas backstory with Mythal also offers players that didn't romance him a chance to see him act out of love and show a side they wouldn't be able to reach otherwise and I think it was smart! also very tragic and sheds more light into all of his choices and words and his relationship with Lavellan too and the parallels and reversals and uughh thoroughly enjoying the emotional distress 👌

Pleasing both the Solas lovers and haters at the same time was always going to be hard with him being such a polarizing character by design and the world states being so different but I think they did a good job! at least from my side of things.

I think my favorite part besides the Solas related stuff was the Blight. I loved how horrific and gross and threatening it was! I've always loved the concept of the Blights and I'm glad it was such a huge part of the story in this game. I also loved Treviso!! has to be the most beautiful city in Thedas ahhh and the Necropolis!! the gardens!! Vorgoth!!! Kal-Sharok!!! I can't believe we got to see it!! and a Titan!!! the giant floating face of Ghilan'nain in the clouds??? and the huge archdemons and dragons!! oh and that warden dragon trap in the shape of a griffon?? and the giant blight tendrils!! the siege at Weisshaupt was outstanding!! and the floating panopticon castle situation in Minrathous uughh there is so much I loved.

OH I also enjoyed the Varric arc even though I saw it coming since the trailer it was still played well and it was touching 🥺

The ending felt a bit jarring to me in tone though, a bit too cheerful considering...the horrors. Over half the continent destroyed and most of the problems Thedas had before the game are still there. Veil in place and all 😆

But I had fun!! I'm nitpicking really, the conclusion to Solas' story feels very satisfying to me which was my main worry so I'm happy. It is a good game!! with a sort of soft reboot feel to it and aimed at a younger audience which is probably what they were going for? You can sort of feel the struggle the team went through during production in the way the target audience seems unclear sadly. I also can't help feeling like this is an ending, so much was revealed and resolved!! but maybe I feel that way because that is what I felt after Shadowbringers / Endwalker in FFXIV once my favorite part of the story was wrapped? They can always pivot to a new continent and expand on the world and cultures we know almost nothing about, but that is always harder to sell so I have no clue where they will go from here 😵‍💫

Anyway I'm still processing a lot of stuff that I will probably talk (and draw) about later, this is already long enough!! for now I'll look up how to get the artbook because the art direction of this game is fantastic!! I would love to hear your thoughts too really, I'm curious about the experiences of players who made different choices and with different tastes to mine!!

#dragon age spoilers #veilguard spoilers #had to reblog bc my thoughts were TOO LONG for a reply lol...

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01zfan · 11 hours ago

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that's my floor | j. sc

sungchan x reader | 5.8k words

another commission! inspired by that's my floor by magdalena bay.

contains: hooking up at a house party, yearning, hopeless pining, dry humping, fingering

You wanted Sungchan to catch you for the longest. The first year of classes you wanted him to look over his shoulder two rows behind him and catch you looking at him. You wanted him to catch you in the grassy quad with your group of friends, you wanted him to catch you at the million other functions you both happened to be at the same time.

So when you were hiding in the corner of the kitchen where a week prior all that want reared its ugly head, the last thing you expected was to hear his voice behind you.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all night.” He said.

Still facing away from Sungchan, you prayed he was talking to someone else. Even though the kitchen was empty, and you approached him first a week ago, you prayed that you were hearing things.

But when you still felt his presence behind you, and you felt his hand reach out to your shoulder, you knew it was real. You had no choice but to turn around slowly, fixing the look of horror on your face to show surprise.

“I didn’t know you were here.” You said.

You knew Sungchan was here. He was the first person you saw when you walked in. He was the first person you always looked for when you would come to Wonbin’s parties. He was standing in the same place he was last week, right past the doorframe where the living room turned into the hallway that led to the bathrooms and bedrooms. That was always the place he gravitated towards at Wonbin’s house parties. The spot was where Sungchan and his friends usually convened, in between their runs to the kitchen for more alcohol or into the living room for snacks and entertainment.

Usually, you stayed on the opposite side. Leaned up against the wall underneath the fairy light decorations. A drink in your hand and Wonbin at your side, subtly trying to corral you to the other side of the room by nudging your shoulder and flicking his head.

“I’m not doing it.” You said sternly.

You nursed your drink and avoided looking directly at Sungchan like your life depended on it. Your other hand was picking at the end of your skirt nervously at the mere thought of walking over to him. You kept your eyes absentmindedly forward, looking through the throngs of people not letting your gaze settle on one spot for too long.

“Just go talk to him.” Wonbin spoke directly in your ear over the loud music. “You always talk about talking to him.” He said.

Sungchan leaned against the white wall the same way you leaned against the counter in the corner of the kitchen, but he wasn’t cowering or hiding by any means. He talked to anyone that approached him, forcing those trying to navigate the space to squeeze against the wall to get by. Sungchan noticed each time, gently grabbing his friends arm to move them out of the way so people could pass by freely. He smiled at whoever was going each time they said thank you, and shook his head gently each time they tried to apologize.

For a moment you entertain talking to him. You could weave through the crowd of your mutual friends to act like you’re getting something from the snack table that sits next to the doorway. A white blanket resting over an outdoor table with chips and cookies, you could linger around, faking curiosity until you heard a break in Sungchan’s conversation. You could swoop in once one of his friends left, mentioning the class you had together or that you two always conveniently went to the corner store near campus at the same time.

But then you imagined getting so nervous you’d stumble over your words, or just linger at the table before psyching yourself out and going right back to your side of the living room. The thought of it makes you shake your head and turn your gaze back to the kitchen island that was filled with bottles of liquor.

“Absolutely not.” You say.

Wonbin is all but convinced. He shakes his head when you speak, looking towards you but pointing in the general direction of Sungchan.

“He’s actually a really sweet guy.” Wonbin says.

You focus on him again. He stands past the lights that hang from the walls in the living room, but when he leans forward or bends down to engage in conversation, the light illuminates the softest parts of his face. You have no doubt in your mind he’s sweet. You have known Sungchan for the better part of four years, starting from your first year in college all the way to your last. At orientation he was the sweet guy, mingling and forcing even the shyest ones to open up. You weren’t surprised that so many people gravitated towards him. Four years later you were still hung up on how kind he was to every person he met. The admiration you felt turned into something more around your second year, when you realized that he was smart too. It only got worse when he started coming into his own as a young adult. Now you were helplessly hung up on him, so much to the point that you would feel hot in the face just thinking about him.

“He probably already knows who you are.” Wonbin reasons.

Sungchan knowing who you were somehow felt worse than him not knowing you at all. He didn’t need to know that your schedules were almost synced up completely due to the fact that you both were pursuing the same degree, and that you two lived in the same area on campus. Sungchan didn’t need to know that you frequented the same spots at the same time for late night snacks or when you needed to get out. He didn’t need to know about your tendency to put your foot in your mouth or his habit of making you unreasonably nervous.

“Next time.” You murmur.

“You said that last time.” Wonbin comes between your line of sight and Sungchan. “I’ve been hearing about your little crush for too long now. I might end up taking matters into my own hands.”

At your friends threat you cock your head to the side. Wonbin mirrors your expression with a sinister grin. Then a moment later through the dancing crowd of people Wonbin opens his mouth. The beginning of Sungchan’s name falls from his lips and your feet move you forward deeper into the living room, desperately getting away from the situation. Wonbin’s eyes follow you as you go through the crowd, and you pray that Sungchan didn’t hear him.

You would’ve gladly spent the rest of the party in between the large group of people that danced in the living room. But at some point you wormed your way through the crowd and ended up on the other side of it, looking at the assortment of snacks on the table. As you continued to look down Sungchan was in the corner of your eye, nodding along to some conversation before he adding to it. The more you lingered the more you felt like he was looking at you. There was a break in the conversation and some of Sungchan’s friends dispersed to different parts of Wonbin’s house. It was just him alone, leaning against the wall in earshot of your voice. You held your breath and thought about what you were going to say three times. A deep breath in and you grabbed a snack, clearing your throat and turning your head towards Sungchan getting ready to speak.

“Sungchan!”

Both you and Sungchan turned your head at the same time. As you looked into the crowd to find the source of the voice Sungchan had already found it. A smile on his lips before he waved, preemptively bending down to hear her clearly.

“Minjeong. You never come to these things.” Sungchan said.

You’re not sure what Minjeong said next. You knew it couldn’t have been that funny to cause Sungchan to tilt his head back in laughter, and you know he wasn’t far enough for Minjeong to bring her hand up to his arm.

You stood next to the snack table and something akin to jealousy started boiling in your stomach. Almost immediately the jealousy turned to anger, and you were marching your heeled boots across the sticky wooden floors to the kitchen where Wonbin was already waiting for you.

From that point on, the party was a blur. Wonbin offered you something stronger to drown your sorrows despite the alcohol only making you more hellbent on remaining nonchalant. Even if you glared at the two of them from across the room you remained steadfast in answering Wonbin’s questions with a curt I’m fine before downing another drink. Before you knew it the party was thinning out and Minjeong left to catch up with her friends while Sungchan continued to talk to his.

Then the party really started winding down and you had alcohol buzzing in your system and a sense of jealousy you couldn’t quite shake.

So as Sungchan walked away from his designated spot and past where you reached out your hand and suddenly cleared your throat.

“Sungchan.” You said.

In that moment both of you seemed equally caught off guard. Sungchan stared at you and stopped completely in his tracks. Your hand was extended towards his body for a prolonged period of time before you hesitantly brought it back to your side. You realized in that moment that you had never actually spoken to him, all those years you spent staring at the back of his head and thinking about him gave you a false sense of knowing him. So when it sunk in that you were essentially a stranger to Sungchan despite knowing everything about him, you cleared your throat again.

“Have a nice night.” You said.

Sungchan cocked his head to the side at your abrupt well wishes. You felt a creeping sense of blush pink embarrassment wash over you, and in your haste you focused on finding Wonbin. Something to bridge the terrible gap between you and Sungchan that became a chasm in a matter of seconds. But before you could locate your mutual friend Sungchan nodded and raised his hand towards you briefly.

“Thanks.” He continued to walk, heading towards his friends that were already out the door. “You too.” He replied.

You held onto your short interaction with Sungchan entirely too much. His confused face flashed through your mind anytime there was a moment of silence, causing you to cringe inwardly. You thought about his awkward hand gesture towards you as he was leaving the party, and his reply that he seemed confused by. He was probably confused by the whole interaction. You caught him off guard, you caught yourself off guard. You no longer trusted yourself to be in his presence.

To never be caught in the same situation again, you avoided Sungchan at all costs. You came to class long before Sungchan did instead of arriving at the same time. You walked up rows of stairs now to avoid being in his line of sight, sitting behind a cluster of your classmates so he couldn’t see you. When he turned in his seat you sunk into yours, hiding in the spine of your textbook or behind the screen of your laptop. When you saw Sungchan at the corner store near campus you avoided him completely, feigning focus on random labels of snacks instead of Sungchan curiously looking down the aisles. You ignored the awkward hand waves he did towards you, the sound of your shared snack choices moving around in his basket. Instead you were focused on the nutritional facts of garbanzo beans and the low sound of pop music playing from the speakers.

You spent a week avoiding Sungchan by any means you thought you had finally succeeded. You thought that he had gone back to ignoring your presence. Your voice conveyed so much shock that he recoiled, bringing his hand that was on your shoulder back to his side before he looked away. Sungchan’s hand that went to the back of his neck showed that he didn’t realize you were running around and leaving rooms anytime he showed an inkling of wanting to approach you. You were scared shitless, so much so that you thought it was obvious. But Sungchan looked at you from beside the kitchen island, almost looking hurt as you both tried thinking of what else to say.

“I just was seeing you all night.” Sungchan gripped the edge of the kitchen island. “Zipping around. Just wanted to talk to you for a little bit.” He says.

The way Sungchan avoids eye contact is undeniable. His eyes go to the assortment of bottles on the kitchen island and the tile walls above the kitchen. You wouldn’t that he fails to meet your gaze because you fail to do it too. Both of your eyes flitter around the kitchen and you both nervously teeter from one foot to the other. It isn’t until Sungchan brings his cup back up to his lips that he dares to look at your face.

“You caught me.” You say quietly.

Sungchan nods his head.

“I caught you.” He affirms.

The party continues on beyond the kitchen. More people Wonbin knows come through the front door, cheering loud enough that causes other people to cheer with them. The living room becomes so packed that the crowd bleeds past the threshold of the kitchen. The party continues to expand, before you know it you and Sungchan are pushed closer and closer together by the growing crowd.

“You know.” Sungchan has to bend down to talk directly into your ear. The more people that came into the party the louder the music became. “I’m more attentive than you give me credit for.” He says.

The way he speaks almost sounds like his feelings are hurt. You should really take the words he says to you at face value.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply.

You really should have taken the words he said at face value. Because now there’s no denying to heat that spreads across your face and the smile you can’t control. You can practically hear the smile in Sungchan’s voice as he gets closer to you.

“I know you didn’t ask but me and Minjeong are just friends.” Sungchan points to one of his friends, standing in their designated spot as he talks to another person. “She’s dating my roommate. She rarely comes out so I was just surprised to see her is all.”

You keep your eyes towards the same doorframe you saw Sungchan last week, the same place you attempted to enter his orbit. The situation then threw you off balance, but the way he now leans in closely and nods at you makes your hands almost shake. But there is something nagging at you more than anything. The question eats at you while you rub the edge of the red solo cup and when girls come to inspect their choice of alcohol you force yourself to look up at Sungchan. He takes in your pensive look immediately, he blinks away the amusement from your joke to a worried look.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask with a smile, and the girls in the radius of your conversation get a little quieter as they make their selection of alcohol.

You watch Sungchan get visibly nervous. His own gaze flits to the girls briefly before he brings his red solo cup to his lips. He pulls away and you can see him try his best to hide the bitter taste behind a head nod.

“Go ahead.” He answers.

You nod, suddenly aware that now you have to ask the question. You look away from Sungchan’s intense gaze, causing him to lean a little closer. He fully invades your space now, causing your hand to clench around your plastic cup and to bite on your lips.

You realize in that moment that you’ve never been this close to Sungchan before. You’ve never been able to see how long his eyelashes are, how they fan his face between each blink of his curious eyes. You’ve never had to look up to him before, from such a distance he’s always been eye level.

“Did you ever notice me?” You ask.

Sungchan nods his head immediately. He looks into his cup for a second and smiles wistfully to himself. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest.

“I noticed you.”

Sungchan speaks so suddenly it catches you by surprise. You lean your head back and Sungchan slightly leans forward. His hand grips the edge of the island as thinks carefully, his lips pull tight and he looks up to the ceiling of the kitchen. You move to your other foot and feel the urge to press your hand deep over your ribcage.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He looks at the tiled surface of the counter before looking to you. “But I noticed.” He says carefully.

Last week you talked for Sungchan for the first time, a brash decision caused by alcohol and jealousy. Now he was squeezing you past his friends as you ducked your way towards Wonbin’s room. You barely remember the progression from standing beside the island in the kitchen to walking behind him. His hand that was hesitant in touching you was confidently placed on the small of your back, inching further and further down as his body got closer to yours. You were operating on Sungchan’s guiding hand alone, each time the crowded party caused Sungchan’s front to press against your back caused your mind to blank. Your feet dragged across Wonbin’s living room floor, you two managed to squeeze through the entire party without a single person noticing you. Sungchan’s roommate only dapped him up as you continued down the hallway towards Wonbin’s room. You didn’t even have the chance to look behind you before Sungchan’s body was pressed against yours again, his hand reaching forward to open the bedroom door.

“You know this means you can’t avoid me around campus anymore, right?” Sungchan says as the door clicks closed behind you.

You can’t bring yourself to think about anything except Wonbin’s unoccupied and neatly made bed in front of you and Sungchan’s hands that grip your waist behind you. Your mind refuses to deviate from the task at hand. You have no brainpower left to try and convince Sungchan that you’ve blatantly ignored him the past week. You can only turn around and bring yourself to look at him for a second before you close the distance between your lips. With a simple tug at his collar Sungchan understands entirely too fast, a hand goes to your cheek the same time his other hand reaches behind him to turn the lock on the doorknob. Immediately his hand returns to your waist the same time you tilt your head to kiss him deeper. His hand on your cheek is soft, his lips that refuse to kiss you with the same fervor is even softer.

Sungchan walks you backwards towards Wonbin’s bed but lets you turn him. Within seconds it’s you impatiently walking on his feet, and you do a terrible job of guiding his body backwards. You truthfully don’t know where you are, you barely remember what you’re doing until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Sungchan takes his hands from your hips to break his landing on the mattress. You realize you’ve come in entirely too hot when Sungchan loses his balance, his palms planting into the bed is the only thing that stabilizes him.

With you looking down at Sungchan and him looking up at you, the situation you found yourself in began to slowly sink in. Sungchan was already making himself comfortable on the bed, looking up to you like you had all the power in the world. Your spit glistened on his lip and the music continued playing. The bass shook the floor you stood on and the more you realized Sungchan wanted you the more you believed you were going to ruin it all. The tension built between you two over the course of years felt like it was at risk of dissipating in seconds. You were practically waiting for Sungchan to blink the lust away from his eyes, you were waiting for a switch to flip that would make him forget you all over again. You had convinced yourself were at risk of being right at square one despite Sungchan pulling himself to the center of the bed and reaching out to your waist in a silent invitation.

All it takes is one gentle pull from Sungchan before your crawling on the bed after him. He lays on his back you get on the bed with your knees planted on either side of him. You start your way up his body the same time his hands start on your bare thigh, palming and rubbing your soft skin slowly. The mattress creaks underneath your knees, the sound drowns out your quiet exhales and your thighs brushing against Sungchan’s jeans. You look at the indent your weight is making in the dark comforter before you finally bring your gaze up to Sungchan.

Everything stops when you find he’s already looking at you. A half-lidded gaze that would’ve made you look away any other time, but for the first time ever you focus on him completely. You do not want to waste a single second not looking at him. You don’t want to miss the way his hand hesitantly works further up your body as he blinks away the arousal to show sincerity.

“I don’t want you to think I planned this.” He slowly drags his hands up, one gripping your waist and the other pressed into your lower stomach. He makes your hips come further down to press against his, and you feel his length against your clothed cunt. Sungchan’s eyes go down to where you two are so close to meeting, the lightest graze downwards to feel the cotton fabric and elastic trim of your panties. “I didn’t chat you up just to fuck.” He says truthfully.

Sungchan is admittedly already lost in you. His voice is far off as he speaks to you, almost falling underneath the baseline of the party that continues on downstairs. The low hum of lyrics leak through the walls, and the occasional yell of something happening upstairs fills the silence between the two of you. But Sungchan isn’t focused on the music or the people, he is focused on the soft skin of your lower stomach against his fingertips.

He was two seconds away from grabbing your stomach and watching the flesh spill between the gaps of his fingers when you dragged your hips against his. Suddenly it was the sound of fabric filling the room, his denim catching against cotton and the sound of mutual sharp inhales.

“Who says we’re fucking?” You ask.

Your heart is pounding in your chest at your bold words. The word fucking felt foreign rolling off your tongue in this context, but the way Sungchan’s gaze snapped up to you gave you confidence. His hand completely loosening its grip emboldened you enough to repeat the motion. Your hips were laid heavy against Sungchan’s body as you moved forward, feeling his constrained and twitching dick rub against you.

“You’ll have to take me out to dinner first.” When you grind your hips a third time you have to lean forward, your hands pressing into the mattress on either side of Sungchan’s head. The new positioning allows you to drag your hips with more fluidity. Warmth comes off of him in waves. His head warms your hands, the heat radiating from his body pressed against yours almost feels like a flame. When you swivel to again Sungchan’s hands go to your hips, experimentally pressing you down further. “I’m not that easy.” You chide.

Sungchan is nodding his head in an instant. He parts his lips to speak as you grind your hips against his again, instead of speaking he swallows. You swear you can feel every inch of him, even when layers of clothes separate your sexes.

“I’ll take you out.” Sungchan breathes out, closing his eyes and pressing his head into the mattress as he slows your hips down. “I’m going to take you to that place Wonbin said you like.” He laments.

You only nod back to him. The sensation of grinding against him is intoxicating. Like the layer of clothes have been shed you can feel his warmth flood you like he’s inside, and the way he grips at your waist only increases the feeling. Your eyebrows knit together when you flick your hips a different way, the new sensation lighting up your spine.

“I swear I can feel you.” Sungchan whines it to the ceiling. His thumbs press deep into your stomach, and you clutch the sheets beside his head. “Can you feel me?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You whine.

Your eyes are screwed shut for a moment, focusing on repeating that same motion that made you feel like you were on fire. Sungchan’s hand reaches further up, grabbing a handful of your chest and you move into his touch.

“Where can you feel me?” He asks.

When you open your eyes again Sungchan is already looking up at you. His pupils are blown out and you’re sure you looked the same, complete with the bitten lips and death grips behind your hands. Your shaky hand lets go of the sheets and drifts to your stomach, a heavy hand tracing over Sungchan’s torso. He freezes up underneath your touch, but you watch the muscles of his stomach tense when your hand lays flat on your lower stomach. You press deep into your stomach and it causes your hips to twitch erratically. As if the tension is a real tangible thing in the pit of your gut you stimulate it, looking down at Sungchan when you start moving your hips in a circle.

“I can feel you here.” You answer.

Both of you know that technically Sungchan is nowhere close to being inside of you. There’s two pairs of underwear, jeans, and about four years of pining that separate you. You both know that even if you’re grinding on Sungchan’s dick and he’s keeping your cunt flush to him, there’s still so much left to the imagination. He doesn’t know what you look like laying bare for him and you don’t know what his dick looks like free of its confines. But you’ve yearned for this so long your mind has been prepared to fill the gaps. You have been walking in the desert for years, so of course having a drop of water feels like you’re drowning. You can feel his dick throbbing like a rock forming in the pit of your stomach. Each drag of your hips is like swimming deeper and deeper to the end, Sungchan’s breathy groans that you’ve dreamed about pulls you under.

“I can feel it too.” Sungchan brings his gaze back up to you, eyes glazed over. “I swear I can.” He says.

Sungchan pulls himself further onto the bed, his hand goes to your lower back to keep you stable. Before you know it he’s sitting up on the bed entirely, chest pressed to yours as he puts his face in the crook of your neck.

The new angle and Sungchan’s iron grip on your body has you whining. That coil in your stomach continues to tighten, even if it’s stubborn from the lack of you being touched the way you truly need. Even if you are not getting fucked you still feel the excitement, and despite Sungchan not being inside of you he still ruts his hips upwards in a haste.

“It feels so good.” He feels your skin that’s hot to the touch, he feels your hair tickling the side of his face and he feels your heart beating against his chest. He can feel the atmosphere surrounding you two, the undeniable tension that you were unknowingly avoiding. Even if he can’t technically feel the way your walls close around nothing sporadically, he can feel something. “You feel so good.” He sighs.

You nod your head against his. You can feel it too.

“Sungchan, I’m so close.” You whine.

The bass from the music downstairs gets louder, shaking the floor the bed resides on and the walls that are closing you and Sungchan in. You can feel the energy of the party increase tenfold, and the electricity between you and Sungchan threatens to fry your brain to a crisp. Everything is too much, entirely too much.

When Sungchan pulls his body away from yours and props his hand behind his back, you feel overwhelmed. Your hips control you now, moving almost in a frenzy chasing after something that already feels like it’s fleeting.

His eyes go down to your panties, he watches the cotton fabric move against his jeans intensely before his gaze goes back up to you. Without a word Sungchan takes his hand from behind him and holds onto you tighter. With you as his new anchor he pushes his hand past the elastic band of your panties, and pushes them lower and lower. When his quick hand bumps your clit your full body twitches, and when his two fingers push past your slit you go forward entirely.

You collapse into him pathetically, grasping at anything you can to steady yourself. You can feel Sungchan’s body sway from your weight, his core strength is the only thing that keeps your bodies upright. If it’s a strenuous task he doesn’t let it be known, he only rests his head on top of yours and continues pumping his fingers in and out of your heat.

“Oh my God.” Your words are muffled in his white tee, they slide out like the spit seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“I got you.” He says.

Him holding on just for you was the last thing you needed. Your hands that found their way to Sungchan’s bicep grips them so tightly you can feel your nails digging into his soft skin. You curse into his chest, and when you feel that coil snap Sungchan brings you in closer. His large hand splays against your back as your hips flick with no rhythm. You can feel Sungchan hold on for a moment longer before his body shudders underneath yours, causing his fingers to fuck you at a faster pace.

You are completely lost. You’re lost in the pressure and the feeling of Sungchan’s hard body against yours. You can barely force yourself to look upwards at through the bliss to see him, and the view is devastating. The way Sungchan looks down at you pulls you deeper to the point that you’re helplessly whimpering in his face. Sungchan starts letting out sounds of his own, whispered cursed and beginnings of grunts. When the music stops downstairs you two choose to muffle your sounds by kissing.

Instantly Sungchan slips his tongue into your mouth. You can taste him run it over your top row of teeth, then to the inside of your cheek. You moan into Sungchan’s mouth and he moans into yours. You can’t stop yourself from bringing your hands to his face and tilting it to the side. You feel another pull when Sungchan submits immediately to you, and you can feel his moans turn to whimpers inside of your mouth. For a split second you open your eyes to see his closed as he tilts his head to the other side. His cheeks are so smooth underneath your fingertips and he looks so pure, even when your spit glazes the perimeter of his lips and he moans into your mouth. For a moment you can handle it, but just like when the music picks up again there is too much going on. Your hand grabs at his that’s in your underwear and you reluctantly break apart from his lips.

“Too much.” You whimper.

Sungchan opens his eyes in a daze, for a moment his fingers still move inside of you like they have a mind of their own. When he subconsciously presses his fingers against your walls you seize again, and a cry escapes your lips.

Sungchan pulls his fingers out of you and the two of you watch as he pulls his hand from your underwear to hold your waist. The view is too much, entirely too much but you can’t bring yourself to look away. The two of you are still caught up in the sight, and when the dust settles and Wonbin starts yelling at people to leave everything starts sinking in.

You pull away completely first. Both you and Sungchan’s breathing is still labored as you look the other up and down. Your hands still shake when you ball them into first, and your first mouthful of spit you swallow still tastes like Sungchan. He was kissing you and fingering you on Wonbin’s bed, he was kissing you like his life depended on it. Everything moved so fast that it replayed like a movie in your head. Flashes of your moans and Sungchan gripping you so tight permeates the forefront of your mind. Your first instinct is to get away from him, as if there was anyway for you to expose yourself to him further.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

When you try to crawl off of Sungchan he grips your waist even tighter. Sungchan’s bewildered expression drops when the apology stumbles from your lips.

“Please don’t say sorry while my hand is still in your pants.” He says painfully.

You don’t think you’ve ever been in a worse situation. The tips of Sungchan’s fingers are still hidden underneath your jeans, you can still feel the bottom of his palm press into your stomach. You unintentionally squirm on his lap again, and like his foot has been stepped on Sungchan sucks in another deep breath.

“Sor—” Sungchan begging you not to say sorry makes you stop in the middle of your sentence. “My bad.” You say.

Wonbin still is yelling at people to clear out of his apartment. His voice sounds closer than it did before, like he was in that part of the hallway that either too him to the bathrooms or to his bedroom that you and Sungchan were currently occupying.

Both of you know you should get up. The more time you waste staring at eachother trying to find the words to say Wonbin gets closer and closer to discovering that his door is locked and he hasn’t seen his two bestfriends in a prolonged period of time. But you can’t stop looking at Sungchan’s lips in awe that you were kissing them minutes ago and he can’t take his hands away from your bare skin.

The door handle is turned one way then the other, causing the metal knob to twist back and forth. You can’t be bothered to turn your head. Sungchan’s hands start lightly kneading your waist.

“Who the fuck is in here?” Wonbin yells on the other side.

#commissionz #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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trulyy-yourzz · 10 hours ago

Note

Hii mami

how you doing today ? I have an idea

can you make one where r is Billie’s teacher and has a husband (shes secretly a lesbian)but Billie doesn’t gaf and wants her but r keeps saying no so one day Billie pulls up at r house pretending having tutoring lessons with her and ends up fucking r at her house while her husband is here (they don’t get caught btw)

im in no rush honey

take ur time

ilyyy

♡smut. - B.E x fem!reader

Hi babyy! I was wondering where you had disappeared too. But back again with the wonderful ideas I see 🤭 ilyy! Enjoy love

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You loved your husband. You really did. But the journey through marriage was the one thing that made you realize sudden... changes.

For a few years now, you have taught physiology for the longest. It was one of your favorites back when you were in university. Even though you often got clowned for it.

But you especially loved teaching that class because of one particular girl..

Billie.

She was everyone's favorite. They loved her for who she was and how she was with others. There was not one negative thing about her... she was perfect from her dark silky hair to her diamond like eyes to her odd but very attractive choice of clothing.

You tried to push her away. You really did. But the more she interacted with you, the more attraction you felt towards her. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn't intercept. A strong knot you couldn't untie.

You were at your desk, lost in thought while everyone was too focused on an assignment or having their own conversations.

You stared at your laptop, biting on your nail as you scrolled through your emails mindlessly. You had applied to teach at a more professional position at your school and hadn't gotten an email back yet when you should've around this time.

You rested your face in the palm of your hands, sighing deeply.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, a soft voice calling your name. So you looked up and she smiled when you saw her. Her smile was a grin that challenged the boundaries of her face. And bright eyes that practically hypnotized you without the entiention to.

"Hi babe, feeling okay?" You loved the way she talked to you... loved the way she called you those cute little nicknames in that arousing tone that turned you on more than it should've. You had a husband.

You had everything any other woman could want.. a big house, a stable job that paid good money, and a loving man who cherished and spoiled you every single day. Then why wasn't it enough? Why weren't you satisfied.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you, Billie." She tilted her head and the grin on her face more prominent as she leaned in closer, her hands planted on the desk for support.

"You seem stressed babe... I know a thing or two to help with that."

You swallowed. Hard. You felt your body weaken at the intense eye contact between you two. The tension in the air felt more and more dominant as the time passed by. It was like she could see right through you. Undressing you with her eyes, slowly. painfully.

"Uhm..." And before you could finish your sentence, the bell rang. dismissing all students from their classes. Thank god.

After hours of reviewing papers and driving through the flooded streets from the pouring rain, you'd finally made it home. Your husband was still in his office around this time, nost likely fallen asleep. He was pretty strict about not being bothered, so you did your best to leave him alone.

He would stay in his office for hours and come out early in the morning. This was an everyday thing, so you often slept in the room alone. It was sad, but you were understanding.

You finally took a hot shower, feeling in need of one all day. It was around 6 p.m., so you still had time before you'd head to bed. You threw on a black silk nightgown and walked out into the living room, plopping onto the couch and sighing deeply.

You were lost in thought once again, and your mind ran back to the interaction with Billie earlier that day.

The way she looked at you had been replaying in your had all day. You could feel the intimacy through her gaze. It was hot. It was seductive.

You took a deep breath and snaked your hand to the lace of the bottom of your nightgown, tugging at it slightly as you bit down on your lip. This was wrong. But you couldn't help it. She made you like this. You were fine without sex in your marriage, or so you thought, for all your husband did was work. You did try to at least have a little action with him. But his excuse was always 'I'm busy'.

All that built-up sexual frustration multiplied as each day went by. You felt unwanted. Like you weren't enough for him.

You slid the fabric covering your pussy to the side, revealing all the wetness that had built up on your underwear.

Your head fell back against the cushion of the couch as you slid a finger inside your dripping cunt. You squirmed and let out an unsatisfied whine. It wasn't enough. You tried adding another finger, but before you could, you were interrupted by the doorbell that echoed throughout the house.

Your body shot up, and you fixed yourself before walking over to the front of the house. You opened the door, and your eyes widened at the sight of Billie right in front of you.

"Hi beautiful." She smiled. "Billie? How did you...?" She chuckled as her eyes ran down your figure, noticing the thin fabric that covered absolutely nothing. It was short and very inviting. And the fact that you hadn't been wearing a bra had her questioning what she even came here for. It took every bone in her body not to just pounce on you right then and there.

You noticed her checking you out, and you gasped, realizing you had been showing quite a lot of skin. "Oh, uh... one second." She smirked, and you closed the door behind you. Running to your room to grab a sweater and throwing it over your head.

Billie smiled at you once you'd open the door again, inviting her in. "Sorry about that..." you said nervously. "No worries. The night dress was cute, though. What a shame you changed"

You felt your body heat up. You were embarrassed... just a minute ago, your hands were in places they shouldn't have been. touching yourself to the thoughts of her.

And now she was on your couch, sitting in the same spot you were just fucking yourself on. Or at least attempting to.

You eyed the door to your husband's office, clearing your throat before you spoke. "So.. to what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to look at you, standing in the kitchen. Billie bit down on her lip before she stood up. "Well... I just needed some help."

Your heart began to race, every heart beat louder than the next as she got closer with every step towards you. "The assignment from earlier today. I don't quite understand it?"

You swallowed. Hard. She looked so hot. Sweatpants hanging low on her waist, just enough for her tattoo and colored boxers to peak through, a black hoodie that was slightly cropped. Oh, and you can't forget about her messy dark hair flipped to the side. 'Fuck. me.' You thought to yourself. Figuratively but mostly literally of course.

"What was there not to understand? I'm pretty sure I explained it pretty well." Billie leaned over the counter across from you, biting down on her lip as she smiled.

"Really? I guess I was just distracted." For a second, you got lost in her iris. Distracted by the slight glimmer in her eyes from the light, making them pop. You took a deep breath. "Best pay attention then, love."

She had to physically hold back from pretty much dicking you down on your own counter. The sudden nickname making her body shiver as she groaned. "Or you could help me now?"

You raised your brows, nodding your head slowly. "And what do I get in return?" You smugged, licking your lips as you looked at her own. Dammit. This was your student you were flirting with. But it was so hard to resist her when she talked to you like this.

"Why ruin the surprise pretty? You'll find out soon enough. " You exhaled, mind wondering to all the types of 'surprises' she could be talking about. "Why not tell me now.. I'm impatient." No. You wanted her to show you.

Your bottom lip stuck out, pouting before you walked around the kitchen island and stood next to her, softening your voice. "Think of this as... extra credit?"

Fuck it. She wanted you now. Show you exactly what she'd been wanting to do to you for so long. Forget the fact that you had a husband. You didn't love him anyway. Romantically, at least.

She grabbed your hips, pinning you in front of her, the counter digging into your back before she lifted you up, sitting your body down carefully onto the cold marble. "For all the hard work I'm about to do? Extra credit would be very much appreciated."

She tugged on your sweatshirt, urging you to take it off before sliding her hand up your thigh. Dangerously close to your heat... exactly where you'd wanted her. "Take this off for me baby." She whispered. And without another thought, you did as you were told, yanking the hoodie off of your body and now exposing the black satin gown you were wearing earlier. It was getting too hot anyway. Especially with her here in front of you.

Billie hummed, pleased with how fast you'd responded to her. So precious. She slid her hand farther up your thigh, pulling at the elastic of the fabric that covered your cunt and sliding it off of your legs. You whimpered, feeling the cool breeze between your legs.

"Shh. Wouldn't want your husband to hear. Would we now?" You shook your head. She shoved your underwear in the pocket of her sweatpants before picking you up and bringing you to whatever room she could find. Preferably yours. The thought of fucking you in the master bedroom you shared with your husband was fucking hot.

She carefully tossed you onto the cushion of the bed, lying on your back as she crawled up to you, hovering over your body. "You have no clue how long I've wanted to do this."

You brought your hands up, wrapping them around her neck as you pulled her closer, tangling your fingers in her hair. "Better get to it then." She smirked devishly. Impressed by your sudden boldness.

"Yes ma'am." She maneuvered her way down to your heat, grabbing onto the bottom of your nightgown before lifting it up to your mouth. "Here. Try not to be too loud mama." You nodded your head, biting down onto the fabric.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath her. Like you were a woman stripped of your own pleasure. You hadn't felt the warmth of someone else's touch in so long. But now here you were... so needy and desperate for her to touch you. Even her breath on your skin made you shiver.

"Brace yourself." She said. And that made you think about every little thing she was about to do to you. Mind racing on what she would and wouldn't do. And she could tell, but she didn't want you thinking about it. Just wanted you to feel it. Feel her. And before you knew it, she licked a stripe up your folds. Slowly. soaking in the taste of you.

Your body jumped, surprised by the sudden contact. You grabbed onto the sheets and tried your hardest to hold back the guttiest moan ever.

Billie kissed your thigh and soothed your skin with her soft hands. She wanted to make sure you were okay. You whimpered and ran your hands through her hair, taking a deep breath.

"Please.."

"Patience, baby. Don't worry, I'll make sure you feel reaaal good."

You felt something press against your cunt, something small but hard. Before you could look down to see what it was, you felt it vibrate, making you ball up her hair in your fist. "Oh my god."

You heard her chuckle before pushing it between your folds. "Found it just lying on the floor by your desk. Convenient, dont you think?" You couldn't even respond. The feeling of her breath against your pussy as she pushed the vibrator deeper into you with her fingers sending you into a bliss. All you could see were stars, your vision blurring as you fluttered your eyes closed.

You bit down harder onto the gown, your body quivering. Chest heaving. "Feels good?" You nodded your head, processing her words as best as you could.

"God, you look so beautiful. I always thought you would, but this.. fuck." She sat up, leaving the vibrator to do the work as she slid down her sweatpants, throwing them to the side to retrieve later. You looked down, noticing the bulge in her boxers.

No fucking way.

She took off the boxers, revealing the fake dick she had strapped to her waist. You couldn't help but stare. She had that on the whole time. From the moment she was at your front door.

"Bille, i dont.." – "You tell me you don't want it. Then I won't give it to you. But once I start, there's no stopping."

She gulped. Would something that big even fit inside? It'd been too long, you weren't very confident. "Okay.." You nodded your head, reassuring her that you wanted to continue, and she tilted her head, humming.

She spit where her cock lined up with your enterance, groaning before she pushed inside slowly. Now that.. that was the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen.

"Wait! Billie the vibra–" and before you could finish your sentence, she was fully inside you, down to the brim. Pushing the vibrator farther into your pussy.

"Woops." She watched as your eyes rolled back, your hand gripping onto her wrist as she held onto your waist, pulling you closer as if she wasn't deep enough. She wanted to be close to you. Closer than ever before... She wanted to become one.

The nightgown fell from your mouth as you moaned out for her. "Quiet, my love." She said breathlessly.

It was so sensual. She treated you better than he ever could. Loved you better than he ever could. It ignited a fire inside you that you never thought existed. It felt so good. Burned so good.

"More– please.. please." She shifted her body, moving herself somehow closer than she already was. She threw your leg over her shoulder, and pushed her fingers inside your pussy, reaching for the vibrator before sliding it out carefully. Trying not to hurt you.

Once she did, she re-entered her cock inside your cunt, which was practically drowning it in your juices. She was hitting your walls at a new angle, causing you to squeeze around her and let out a soft moan.

"As you wish." She groaned, pulling out slowly and thrusting herself deeper. Harder. The new angle only adding to the pleasure. Who would've thought this woman could fuck you ten times better than your husband ever could.

She thrusted her cock inside you at an unbelievable pace, as if she was some kind of sex god. You reached up for her, wanting her to hold you. Wanting to feel her warmth radiate onto you. So she pulled you up, sitting you on her lap as you rode her, causing her to hit you at, once again, an entirely different angle.

Your head fell onto her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck as you masked in her scent. Only the wet sounds of your body connecting in the most lustful ways ever bouncing off the walls of the room.

You could feel your climax approaching. And so could Billie. Your walls clenched around her cock, making it more difficult for her to fuck you properly.

"You got it. Come for me, baby. I know you can." Your body convulsed as you gripped onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin, causing her to hiss. She figured it would leave a mark, but who cares. She just wanted to make you feel good.

"Fuuuck..!" You choked on a moan, bringing your head up as you pushed your lips onto hers, tongues fighting for dominance. Eventually getting you to surrender, she bit down on your lip and brought her hand down to your clit, pressing down as she traced figure eights, luring your climax closer.

Your mouth hung open, resting your forehead on hers as you came on her cock, it felt like you were a virgine coming for the first time. You surely weren't. But that's just how good she made you feel.

She soothed your back and continued her repeating motion on your clit, helping you ride out your climax as you grinded ontop of her. Your body tensed and shuddered, eyes tearing up as she lifted your head and wiped them with her thumb.

"You okay?" You just nodded your head, still trying to catch your breath, your body still stuck between the realm of pleasure and reality.

She kissed your forehead before lying you back down onto the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?" You raised your brows, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched her walk away into your bathroom.

A few minutes later, she came out with a warm cloth and sat down next to you, smiling before she began wiping you down. "Thank you." She just laughed softly, making you feel a little embarrassed even though you were a grown ass woman. She just had that power over you. "You're welcome, my love."

You felt your eye lids slowly flutter closed. You tried to fight it, but the feeling of her hand soothing over your body with a cloth made you feel warm... and quite tired. She placed the palm of her hand on your cheek, caressing softly with her thumb before she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your lips. And a few minutes later, you were fast asleep.

"Rest well, my love."

Notes: i actually kinda hate this... but i wasn't gonna rewrite the whole thing. AGAIN.. Hopefully, you like it more than i do😅 enjoy my loves💝

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jillsandwhichs · 3 days ago

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Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 6 , Beer and Sex

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy are at an event in Austin that includes being outdoors, drinking & games! Well, long story short, you and Joel end up heading back to his place for some indoor fun

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends

WC: 3.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: No outbreak (AU), Usage of alcohol, Buzzed sex, Dirty talk, Making out, Breast play, Living room sex, You ride Joel, Unprotected sex, Choking kink, Clit rubbing, Denial of orgasm, doggy style & you ride him

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You sat back down whilst laughing. Picking your beer back up, you sipped it and put it back down. You haven't drinken in a while, it's nice to finally do it again. You're usually so busy with work that you never have the time or energy to get some alcohol in your system. Your friends Joel and Tommy convinced you to go with them to this event in town though and when you saw there were drinks, you couldn't refuse.

The only reason Joel and Tommy are here is because Maria is hosting this event. She's very big with the city council and hosts events like this from time to time. You don't mind coming. You're actually enjoying yourself. Just a bit ago you were playing darts with Joel and then tether ball with Tommy. You're slightly buzzed too. You can't get full blown drunk though, you need to still drive home.

As you watched some of the younglings run around and play, you felt the weight of the table increase as Joel sat down. It's a muscular man. He weighs a good bit. "Hey." You said in a friendly tone. "Hello." He replied, sipping his tall boy. "You got another one? Shit, don't make me go get another one too, I still have to drive home." You joked, resting your head in your hand. Joel chuckled. "My house is just a few blocks away and I walked here so I ain't even bothered." Joel stated.

That's right, he lives in the suburbs. That's not something you'd expect from a country boy like him. Then again, being country is defined by where you live. "Where did Tommy and Maria go?" "No fuckin' clue," Joel snickered, "Probably fuckin' in the bathroom or something." He teased. You laughed and nodded. "They are newly weds, what can you expect?" You said whilst giggling. Joel nodded. "True that."

Joel was once married, he even had a daughter with the woman. Joel has been single for years now though. Everyone jokes he's out of commission but he just says he's waiting for the right lady. Sarah, his daughter, is almost twelve. She's getting older and cuter by the second. You've met her quite a bit, even babysat her, she's a dear. Joel told you she's with her mother right now, so he's free.

"At least Maria is getting some. It's been a good few months for me." "Months? Try years darlin' and it ain't by choice." You cackled at his words. He isn't wrong. He's celibate from what you've heard. "Sorry Joel, that has to suck." "It sure fuckin' does." He took a shot of his beer. You nodded and sipped off of yours too. The beer was getting warm. Gross. You sighed deeply. "I'm going to go get a new beer, I'll be right back."

You stood up and headed towards the cooler. This cooler was brought by Tommy himself. He decided to provide it for everyone. It's the good stuff too. You bent over and picked up a new one. It was ice cold to the touch. "Hell yeah." You murmured, cracking it open. You're currently wearing a black tank top and short jean shorts. It's hot during the summer, you have to stay cool somehow.

When you turned around, you saw that Joel's eyes were on you. He looked like he was trying to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he totally was. You can't lie, you've checked him out too. Those big muscles and that handsome face are a sight for sore eyes. He's a hottie, admittedly. You giggled and sat back down beside him.

"You were totally just checking me out, weren't you?" You said with a laugh, tipping your beer into your mouth and drinking it all while looking into his brown eyes. He snorted and nodded. "You caught me." Oh, so he was? You don't mind. You knew Joel would be there and that did somewhat take part in what you're currently wearing.

You've always thought he was sexy. The day Tommy introduced you to him you though that. That was only two years ago. Your guy's friendship has been great but you're awfully surprised the two of you haven't hooked up yet. You've definitely flirted and hit on one another. You've even went as far as to having him lick salt off of your stomach before taking a shot of tequila and that had you soaked.

It is very surprising.

"But you can't deny you were checkin' me out earlier." Joel whispered to you with a husky voice. You giggled. "Guilty as charged. You've also caught me red handed." This isn't just the beer talking. You totally were. When he was putting the cooler down earlier, you were indeed gawking at his veiny, buff arms. You giggled and bit your lip while looking up at him. "How drunk are you?" You asked him. "Not drunk enough." You rolled your eyes at his words.

You looked around the area. You still have no clue where Tommy and Maria are. "I'll shoot him a text. Let's get out of here." He whispered to you. You scoffed and breathed in deeply. "Alright." You giggled. He got off of the picnic table and took your hand in his, helping you out of the table as well. You smiled at him. Your guy's hands stayed interlocked. Is this actually going to happen? Are you going to fuck Joel Miller? After all this time?

"My house ain't too far from here." Joel said to you in a deep voice. "I know." You smiled, walking alongside him. You don't feel drunk. You do feel buzzed. It isn't anything you can't handle. You're a heavy weight. It takes you time to really hit the drunk point. The trees around you and Joel brought you two shade, but you're already too hot, in more ways than one. He looked down at you and chuckled. "I can't wait to fuck you." He admitted. You huffed out. "Good." You bit your lip to hold back a big grin.

You glanced over your shoulder. You hope no one will wonder where you two are. You'd rather keep this between you and Joel for now. "Will we come back once we're done?" "We'll have to, I left my goddamn brother back there." You laughed loudly. "That is true... He'll be fine, right?" "He's a grown man, he's fine. Like I said darlin', I'll text him." You nodded. You just don't want them to come looking for the two of you.

You'd rather not be in the middle of getting fucked when Tommy and Maria show up.

As Joel opened his front door and locked it behind him, he chuckled and grabbed you, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back. His messy beard scraped against your face. "Mmph." You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He picked you up into his arms like you were a feather. You giggled and continued to kiss him. His hands were on your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he took you two to the living room area.

"Baby?" "Hmm?" "Bedroom or living room?" You snorted at his question. At least you get a say in this. You thought for a moment. "Let's keep it fun-living room." "Glady." Joel smirked, kissing you again but this time, his tongue found it's way into your mouth. You didn't mind. It made you even more horny. Your guy's tongues fought for dominance. You wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth. You moaned loudly as he sat you down on him. You could feel his erection through his stained work jeans.

You giggled and kissed him before reaching your hands down to the end of your tank top and pulling it off. Joel just stared in admiration. He thinks you're gorgeous. "Look at you," He purred, "You're beautiful." He whispered. You grinned. "You're handsome, and so sexy." You spoke seductively before licking his lower lip and kissing him again. His hands went to your tits, he squeezed them gently. Joel is more of an ass guy though.

After making out for a little bit, Joel finally pulled away to take deep breaths. "I'm fuckin' twitchin'." He sighed deeply, looking down at his bulge. You think that's the sexist thing ever. You love when a man is vocal about how he feels or what you're doing to him. "I'm so wet for you, wanna feel?" You whispered against his ear. Joel's breath shuttered. "Badly." And his hands went to your shorts, undoing them and helping you out of them as well.

Stepping out of your shorts, you climbed back into Joel's lap and sighed. "Feel." You whispered, kissing his neck and jawline. Joel brought his finger down to your core and pulled your panties to the side. As he dipped his fingers through your folds, he let out a low groan. "So fuckin' wet, just for me, hm?" He whispered, nibbling on your jawline. You giggled. "Just for you." This surely isn't the first time you've gotten wet thinking about Mr. Joel Miller.

Joel swiped his fingers through your folds, picking up all of your juicy wetness. You continued to kiss him. He seemed desperate, like a wild animal. He's hungry for you. You bit his lower lip and once again swiped your tongue along his. You moaned so quietly, it was more of a whimper.

He pulled his finger away and grunted. "Need to feel you from the inside." He murmured as he pulled his cock out of his jeans. Oh yeah, he's big. You're excited. It's been so long, especially for him. You hope you're as good as he'll be to you. Grabbing his member, you yourself pulled your white panties to the side before you then sat down on his dick. Both of you made sensual noises as your folds and cunt enveloped him. He was already so deep inside of you. It feels so good.

"How's that?" You chuckled, your arms around his neck. He snickered and gripped your ass tightly, landing a smack onto it which caused you to jolt slightly. "You feel so good. Now fuckin' ride me." He began to squeeze and slap your ass and you started to ride him. You went slow at first. Your movements were just simple grinds back and forth but you'd occasionally lift your ass up and back down, literally bouncing on his cock.

You wanted to savour this. You haven't felt this good in awhile. Having sex with Joel tonight was not on your agenda of plans but seriously, it is a welcomed surprise. He feels amazing. He knows what he's doing too. Each time he pinches your ass cheeks or spanks you playfully, it either makes you moan or kiss him even harder and more passionately.

Now, Joel is holding your hips. You began to ride him faster too. His dick is so deep inside of you, you can hardly believe it. "I've wanted this for a long time." You moaned out, looking him in the eyes. His eyes got darker and even more full of lust. "Me too babygirl, me too." He then swatted your ass again before going back to squeezing your hips. You're sure you'll have red marks all over your cheeks by later in the evening.

Bouncing on him, each thrust was just a mark bringing you closer to your climax. His member is deep inside of you and is shoving itself against your tight walls with each movement. "Yes baby." He groaned, kissing and licking your neck. He thinks you smell amazing. You did put on your perfume before going to the event. You're glad it's doing it's job.

"Babygirl, turn around, cowgirl, y'know?" You giggled at his words. "Yes sir." You teased and lifted yourself off of him slightly to turn around. You were surprised he asked you to switch positions, but you aren't complaining. You pushed yourself down onto his dick again and you both made whimpering noises. He seems to be feeling good. That's all you want. It's been years for him, you better make it good.

Once you got comfortable, you moaned loudly as he started to thrust up into you. "Joel!" You practically screamed, tossing your head back against his broad shoulder. He cackled and kissed your neck, leaving numerous bites and hickies onto it too. How are you supposed to go into work on Monday? You're sure these'll last a few days, hopefully not. "Need to make sure I still got it." Joel grunted, now he is the one fucking you and man, it's heaven.

Joel noticed your head was still tilted back against his shoulder. He smirked. He brought his left hand up to your neck and held it, choking you now. You moaned and turned your head slightly, kissing his messy hair and giggling. "You're so deep inside of me." You panted. "Yea? You're takin' it so fuckin' well too baby." Joel replied, kissing your cheeks numerous times, making you smile and chuckle.

His free hand, his right one, was one your lower stomach, holding you in place. You wanted to look down to see him moving inside of you, but you couldn't. With his hand on your neck, there's not much you can do with your head. You aren't complaining. You think it's hot to be choked. He does it so well too. "Been thinkin' about fuckin' you for awhile now," He whispered against your ear. His breath was warm. "You feel better than I ever could've imagined." That made you whimper in pleasure.

You felt his right hand slither down from your waist and to your clit. You whimpered. "Oh God!" You whined out as he began to rub your clit fast and with pressure. It felt so good. He works well with his fingers. He continued to thrust up into you, which made the experience a million times better. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered to him. "No baby, not yet, hold it in." What!? How are you supposed to just hold it in? "What?" "You heard me babydoll." He licked behind your ear and bit on your lobe. "Do not cum yet." He sternly stated.

"How?" "Just do it."

How are you supposed to hold back your orgasm? No hookup has ever asked you to hold it back. Actually, they need you to cum quickly or else they'll finish before you. You whimpered and bit your lip. No, you're going to cum. "I can't," You panted, "I just can't." Joel didn't respond. "Joel!" You moaned out, reaching your hand behind his head and tugging on his hair. He grunted and bit down on your neck.

"Cum for me."

That was it. You moaned softly as you coated his cock in your fluids. You let go of his hair. Shaking in his lap, Joel continued to rub your clit until you came down from your high. It overstimed you even. "Holy Christ." You moaned. You went to turn your head to kiss him but he lifted you up and chuckled. "I still haven't finished." He then pushed you down onto the couch, doggy style, and began to pound into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the couch beneath you. Your knuckles even went white. He moved so skillfully inside of you. Each pump was one of excellence. "Wish I could cum inside of you." He whispered, running his hands up and down your back before he ultimately rested them on your rear. Joel gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly before leaving multiple slaps onto it, all of which made your moan or squeal.

With just a couple more thrusts, Joel finished. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself. He finished all over your ass and lower back. "Fuck sakes." Joel groaned, caressing your ass as he came. You pushed your ass against his manhood and giggled. He spanked you again and snickered. "One sec." He leaned over and grabbed a random wipe, cleaning your ass and back off. He tossed the rag to the other side of the living room and you chuckled.

Joel heaved deeply and lifted you up by your waist and pulled you back into his lap. You were basically completely naked, only in panties whereas he was fully dressed. So unfair. "Was it good?" You asked him, resting your head against the arm of the couch. He glanced down at you, still breathing heavily. "You're a funny girl." He leaned down and kissed you softly. "It was fuckin' glorious." He then nibbed on your jawline, making you giggle cutely.

You hummed and looked up at him. "You're the only man whose ever denied me of finishing, by the way." You snorted. "That's because you've only done slept with boys who finish too quickly. I think it's sexy to see a woman be restricted of her pleasure." You giggled at his words. "It felt better." "That's the point babydoll." He caressed your cheek and you brought yourself closer to his face, kissing him gently.

He breathed in deeply and cupped your face firmly, holding you in place. "Don't convince me to fuck you again." He said with a smile against your lips. "If you can't handle it..." You bit your lip. You acted like you were about to get off of his lap and you suddenly squealed as he tossed you back onto the couch and put you in missionary. Your legs went over his shoulders and you smiled.

"Oh I think I can handle it."

That was where the next of many rounds began.

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #tlou2 #smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #tumblr fyp

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seitmai · 13 hours ago

Text

She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

I 100% believe this, I feel like Pepper would be a great friend (even though she's always busy)

"We're putting together an incredible team," she begins, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've been reaching out to some of the brightest minds in politics, economics, and social justice. We have former White House staffers, grassroots organizers, and even a few unexpected faces from the private sector who are eager to contribute their expertise."

Whatever Pepper does, she does it right and all in

"There's Maria Hill," Pepper continues, "who's handling security and intelligence briefings. She's got connections that'll be invaluable. Then there's Peter Parker - you might know him as Spider-Man - he's officially our youth outreach coordinator, but he's also got a brilliant scientific mind that we're tapping into for policy development."

Already an iconic team

“Put me to work wherever you need me!” “I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.” “Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!” Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs. “Future First Lady.”

Well that's certainly a special role 😅

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?" Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

She's like: I already thought this all through, no worries

“We have an opportunity to show what a healthy partnership in marriage could look like to new generations. You’re my first and only choice because of your skills, experience, and the vision I know you would bring to the table. But you’re also my first and only choice because I think you two are well-suited for each other.”

But she certainly does have great arguments 🤷🏻‍♀️ if someone would get me, a person that doesn't believe to much into marriage, to marry a person for strategic purposes it would certainly be Pepper 😅

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?” Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

Hahahah😂

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.” “I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.” His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

Meeting Sam first is probably even better, he is a great wingman 😉

In return, your smile becomes a little warmer and easier. “I can’t help being a little disappointed - since I was hoping to finally meet my future husband - but he’s unemployed and you’re technically Captain America, so I guess it’s really an upgrade.” Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

This is good sign

"It's part of the package," Sam agrees. "But so is having a team of people who have your back, no matter what." He leans forward, his eyes meeting yours intently. "I want you to know that includes me. We're not just colleagues in this; we're family."

🥹🥹🥹

Sam leans back in his chair, considering your question carefully. "Crazy? Maybe," he admits with a small smile. "But then again, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my time with the Avengers. This? This actually feels like one of the more normal things I've been part of."

Well, fair 😅

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?" "Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.” You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

🤭🤭🤭

As Sam talks, you find yourself leaning in, captivated by these glimpses of reality, getting to know more about the man behind the myth. And even if the next twenty-four hours will be a whirlwind of you choosing and getting fitted for your wedding dress; interviewing candidates that have been vetted for your personal staff - assistant, pr strategist, stylist, initiative director; and a bachelorette party; you feel like you’ll be able to face it all with the bit of reassurance you’ve gained by spending this time with Sam.

Getting a pep talk by Sam Wilson, the Captain America does just that 👏🏻

Red, White & True: Manhattan & Brooklyn (1/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts, Sam Wilson Word Count: 4k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Pepper Potts has persuaded Steve Rogers to step up and help again - but this time in a battle to The White House. She invites you to consider a key position.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Prologue | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[MAY 15 - Manhattan, New York]

You try not to hold still while you wait in the lobby, but you’re nervous and the longer you sit, the more difficult it is to resist drumming your fingers, tapping your foot, jiggling your right leg as it’s crossed over your left, or even just chewing on your bottom lip.

You’re not anxious at all over meeting with Pepper, but what has you on alert is the possibility that you could theoretically meet Steve Rogers, former Captain America, today.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. The lobby of Stark Industries is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern design. The large windows let in plenty of natural light, making the space feel open and inviting despite its corporate purpose.

Your mind wanders back to your college days when you’d walked into a different Stark Industries lobby for the first time, a hopeful intern wanting to make a difference at the then-new Stark Foundation office. Pepper had been very involved in building the Foundation at the time, and had become a key mentor and - as the years passed and you left Stark Industries - a dear friend. She had helped fuel some of your late-night study sessions through grad school. Living in a new state, she had shown up and seen you through breakups, family drama, and the stress of putting together your thesis. Even when your paths diverged, you'd managed to stay in touch.

Back then, she’d become like the older sister you never had, seeing you through some of the difficult years figuring out how to be a real adult. Now, here you are, waiting to potentially join a presidential campaign she’s orchestrating for none other than Steve Rogers.

The receptionist's voice startles you out of your reverie. "Ms. Potts will see you now."

You stand, smoothing down your carefully chosen outfit - professional, but not stuffy. As you follow the receptionist down the hallway, your mind races with possibilities. What position could Pepper have in mind for you? Your background in political science and your years working in non-profit management seem like they could be useful, but you can't help feeling a little out of your depth.

As you approach Pepper's office, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. The door opens, and there she is - Pepper Potts, looking as poised and confident as ever in a crisp white blouse and tailored navy suit. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her smile is warm and welcoming.

"It's so good to see you," she says, embracing you in a quick hug. "Come in, please."

You step into her spacious office, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Pepper gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from her desk, and you sit, trying to keep your nerves in check.

"I appreciate you coming on such short notice," Pepper begins. "I know it's been a few years since we’ve been able to catch up - even before the Blip.”

You were among the half who disappeared - still such a strange concept to grasp though you were supposedly settled back in. “I was happy to come! And of course I don’t mind a trip on the Stark Industries dime,” you say with a grin.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

You shake your head. "I'm fine, thanks."

Pepper settles into her chair, folding her hands on the desk. "So, I know I told you we’re putting together the campaign team for Rogers for America, but I'm sure you're wondering more specifically why I called you here."

You nod, leaning forward in your chair, eager to hear Pepper’s vision.

You are instantly intrigued, trying to imagine the caliber of people she's describing. Your mind races with possibilities - perhaps that brilliant campaign manager who orchestrated the upset victory in the last Senate race, or the economist whose revolutionary ideas about sustainable development have been making waves in academic circles.

"We've got strategists who are anticipating every move our opponents might make," Pepper continues, "and communications experts who can craft messages that will resonate with voters across the political spectrum.”

You listen intently, trying to pinpoint where you might fit into this powerhouse group.

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Spider-Man.

Pepper leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. "But here's the thing - we're not just assembling a team of political operatives and policy experts. We need people who understand the heart of what we're trying to do, who can see the bigger picture and help keep us grounded in our core values."

Your heart begins to race as you start to realize where this might be going.

"That's where you come in," Pepper says, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I've watched your career over the years, how you've navigated the non-profit world, building coalitions and making real change happen. You have a gift for bringing people together, for seeing connections that others miss. Your experience gives you a unique perspective that we desperately need."

Your heart races as you process her words. You had assumed you might be offered some kind of advisory role, perhaps in fundraising or event planning. Maybe even appearance management or offering occasional input on strategy. But from Pepper's tone, it sounds like she has something more substantial in mind.

"Where do you see me on this team?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've been putting a lot of thought into this," Pepper continues, her voice filled with conviction. “You know we’re doing something unconventional. Did you read the presidential plan?”

You nod. Steve’s bid for President of the United States was still technically not public knowledge. You had signed an NDA - being told only that you were receiving a proposal Pepper wanted your input and consultation on, with potential to join the team if you supported the initiative, and just silence if you didn’t.

“It’s bold, idealistic, aspirational; but it’s also unapologetic, has clear plans of action, and could be transformational in ways we haven’t seen in living memory,” you give your assessment.

“And it’s something you could see yourself being a part of?”

You take a deep breath, but smile genuinely. “I couldn’t sleep the first night after you sent it over. I couldn’t stop reading, hoping, re-reading, imagining possibilities!”

“Good,” Pepper responds. “Perfect.”

“Put me to work wherever you need me!”

“I was hoping you would say that because I have a very specific position I need to get filled, and you’re my first - and only - pick for the job.”

“Pepper, stop holding out!” A nervous and eager laugh escapes you. “Tell me!”

Her response slams into you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Future First Lady.”

You feel your jaw drop in shock, almost hitting the ground as your mind races with disbelief and anger. The room feels like it's spinning as you struggle to process the weight of her words.

"What?" you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Pepper, I... I don't understand. First Lady? But that would mean..."

Pepper holds up a hand, her expression serious. "We're not just running a campaign here. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country. Steve is an incredible man, and he needs a partner who understands the complexities of modern America, not just a trophy wife, someone who can connect with people from all walks of life."

You shake your head, still reeling. "But I'm not - I mean, Steve and I aren't even - we've never even met!"

"I know," Pepper says softly. "That's part of the plan. We want to show that leadership isn't about who you're married to or what your last name is. It's about vision, compassion, and the ability to bring people together."

Pepper leans back in her chair, her expression at least revealing some concern over your reaction. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"A lot to take in?" you interrupt, your voice rising. "Pepper, it's insane! It’s May, and the election is in November. How could I possibly be the First Lady?"

Pepper holds up a hand, trying to calm you. "I know, I know. Let me explain."

But you're on a roll now, your initial shock giving way to indignation. "Explain what? How you thought it was okay to offer me a position that requires me to be married to a stranger? Use me to score points?”

"I understand your reaction," Pepper says calmly, "but please, hear me out. This isn't about scoring political points or creating some sham marriage. We're trying to redefine what leadership looks like in this country."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Go on," you say, your voice tight, “because you’re still trotting out marriage.”

"We can’t outright ignore traditional expectations and polling numbers. If Steve were running as the nominee for either of the major parties, we could probably win without him being married, but since he’s running as an independent, he needs a wife. That being said, we want to move away from the traditional concept of the First Lady as just the President's wife," Pepper explains. "The vision is a First Partnership. Two people who work together. There’ve been a few First Ladies who have done more with their platform and position, and that’s what we would want for you, too.”

You chew on your lip, not persuaded yet, but a little less angry.

You open your mouth to protest, but Pepper raises her hand to stop you.

“You and Steve don’t have to put on a show and be madly in love - that’s not what I want, that’s not what he wants or expects either.”

You frown. “What does he expect?” you ask. And then you perk up even more. “Has he agreed to this? Shouldn’t he at least be here to make the offer himself?”

Pepper sighs. “It was easier for me to convince him to run in the first place than to agree that he needed a wife.”

“But you’re telling me he did agree?”

Pepper nods. “He did.”

You unconsciously rub the empty space on your left ring finger. “Couldn’t we just get engaged and leave the question of a marriage for whether or not he wins?”

A soft laugh falls from Pepper’s mouth. “He actually asked the same thing.”

“And…?” You raise your eyes expectantly.

“The public would rake us over the coals and accuse us of only doing it as a publicity stunt. The campaign would become a gossip column on your relationship status and nothing more.”

“But isn’t it a publicity stunt?”

“We can spin a marriage that seems to appear out of nowhere. Steve’s always been a private person when it comes to his personal life. We will tell people you met through me - which is true. I thought you were well-suited for each other - which I do. When people asked why the wedding just before announcing his bid for the presidency, we tell them you two didn’t want your relationship status to become the big question on everyone’s minds so they can focus on the platforms and policies instead and that every marriage takes work regardless of the length of the courtship.”

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process everything Pepper has said. The idea of marrying someone you've never met, let alone becoming the First Lady of the United States, seems utterly surreal. And yet, there's a part of you that's intrigued by the challenge, by the opportunity to make a real difference on such a grand scale.

"I need some time to think about this," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pepper nods understandingly. "Of course. It's a lot to take in. But I want you to know that I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you were perfect for this role. Not just as a political partner, but as someone who could genuinely connect with Steve."

You raise an eyebrow. "You really think we'd be well-suited?"

"I do," Pepper says with confidence and warmth.

You rub your ring finger again, but this time you see Pepper’s eyes drop to watch your unconscious action, and you quickly stop. Her eyes, when you meet them again, are full of sympathy. You both lost husbands, but you don’t want to talk about it, yet again, and you don’t want to bring up a painful subject for her either.

She can read that in your tight-lipped smile.

So instead she says, “I can give you three days to think it over.”

You sigh and rise from your seat to go. “I don’t know if that’s long enough, but if you give me three days or three weeks, I don’t think it will change my decision I’ll land on. Give me the night to sleep on it. I think I’ll know by tomorrow morning.”

[JUNE 4 - Brooklyn, New York]

Three weeks later, your life has been packed up and put in a truck on its way to the new brownstone in Brooklyn that’s been acquired for you and Steve to move into, and you’re sitting at a table in a café a few blocks away, waiting to meet your future husband for the first time over breakfast. Every time the bell rings over the door, you dart your head to see if it’s him, but he’s evidently running late.

As you wait, checking to see if you have any messages on your phone, the bell over the door chimes once more. This time, when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. A tall, athletic man with dark skin and an easy smile has entered the café. You recognize him immediately as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Your heart sinks a little as you realize Steve isn't with him.

Sam spots you and makes his way over, his stride confident but casual. As he approaches, you notice the way his eyes scan the room, a habit born from years of military training and superhero work. He's dressed in civilian clothes - a leather jacket over a simple t-shirt and jeans - but there's no mistaking the aura of strength and capability that surrounds him.

"You must be the future Mrs. Rogers," Sam says with a warm smile, extending his hand. "I'm Sam Wilson. Steve asked me to come apologize and explain - and to have breakfast with you, if you’ll have me.”

You nod, forcing a smile, and shake his hand. "Of course. I understand.” You motion toward the chair across the table from you, inviting him to sit. “I know campaign prep must keep him incredibly busy."

Ever since you’d accepted the proposition to marry Steve Rogers and join him on the campaign trail to the White House, your own life had turned upside down, giving you hardly any time to breathe, and you’d been told this was only a mild version of what your own schedule was going to look like once Steve formally announced.

“Former President Bartlet agreed to meet with him, and the schedules ended up aligning this morning for Steve to go up to New Hampshire for a sit down,” Sam explains.

“President Bartlet?” you can’t help the awe in your voice. “I’d skip out on breakfast with me, too.”

“I hope I’m not a disappointment of a substitute,” Sam teases. “Since we’ll be working together as part of the senior staff, I volunteered because I was eager to finally meet you.”

His smile is genuine, and you feel the absolute truth of his sentiment. It melts away some of your disappointment and worry.

Sam laughs. “Oh, I’m going to love you, I can tell.”

“Just promise me he’ll actually be at the ceremony tomorrow?” you ask. Your tone is light, but Sam calls your bluff.

His laughter fades, replaced by a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he'll be there. Wild horses couldn't keep him away. Or androids. Or aliens. Or wizards. Or..." He trails off, realizing he might be overdoing it. "You get the idea."

You nod, appreciating Sam's attempt at humor. "I hope so. It would be pretty awkward to explain to the press why the groom was a no-show at his own wedding."

"Trust me, Steve takes this very seriously," Sam says, his tone becoming more earnest. "He may not know you yet, but he respects you and the commitment you're making. He's not the type to back out or let you down."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I suppose I should get used to schedule changes and last-minute adjustments," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

His words touch you deeply, and you feel a bloom of warmth in your chest, the firs time you’ve felt grounded since you agreed to do this. "Thank you, Sam," you manage to say. "That means a lot."

The waitress approaches, he orders coffee, and you both order breakfast.

As she walks away, you take a sip of the drink you’d ordered while you were waiting before, mulling over Sam's words. "Can I ask you something, Sam? You know Steve better than almost anyone. Do you think...?”

You hesitate, uncertain if you should voice your doubts to Sam. But his open, friendly demeanor encourages you to continue, and you’re going to need to learn to trust this new circle of people you’ll be surrounded with.

"Do you think this is crazy?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Marrying someone I've never even met, maybe becoming First Lady... it all feels so surreal."

You can't help but chuckle at that, some of the tension easing from your shoulders.

"Look," Sam continues, his tone becoming more serious. "I won't lie to you. It's not going to be easy. The scrutiny, the pressure, the constant demands on your time and energy - it's going to be a lot. But if anyone can handle it, it's Steve. And from what I've heard about you, I think you're up for the challenge, too."

Sam pauses as the waitress returns with your breakfasts and his coffee. Once she's gone, he continues, "Steve doesn't do anything halfway. When he commits to something, he's all in. And he's committed to this - to you, to this campaign, to trying to make a real difference."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. "And what about... us? Steve and me, I mean. Do you think we can make this work? Not just for the campaign, but as a real partnership?"

Sam's eyes soften. "Steve's one of the best men I know. He's loyal, compassionate, and has a moral compass that doesn't quit. But he's also been through a lot, and he can be... guarded. It might take some time for him to open up fully."

You absorb this information, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity about your future husband. "I appreciate your honesty, Sam," you say softly. "I guess we'll both be navigating uncharted waters."

Sam nods, taking a sip of his coffee before responding. "True, but you won't be doing it alone. Not only do you have the support of the team, but I think you and Steve might surprise yourselves. You both have a strong sense of purpose, a desire to help others. That's a solid foundation to build on."

You pick at your breakfast, mulling over Sam's words. "I just hope we can find some common ground beyond the campaign," you admit.

Sam leans in, his expression earnest. "Like I said, when Steve commits to something, he gives it his all. That includes relationships. He may be reserved at first, but once he lets you in, you'll have his unwavering loyalty and support."

You nod, feeling a bit more reassured. "I appreciate that. I’m not some hopeless romantic, I’m not looking to be swept off my feet, but I just hope we can find some chemistry, some spark beyond just being political partners."

Sam chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Steve might be from the 1940s, but he's still a red-blooded man. And you," he gestures at you with his fork, "are definitely his type."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly. "His type?"

"Smart, independent, passionate about making a difference," Sam lists off. “

Your work in non-profits, your passion for social justice - that's right up Steve's alley. Plus, you've got that whole 'take no crap' vibe that he needs. I have a sense about these things, and you have it.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension dissipate. "Well, I'll take your word for it. Though I have to admit, the idea of being Steve Rogers' 'type' is a bit surreal."

Sam grins. "Trust me, once you two actually meet, you'll see what I mean. Just don't let that 'aw shucks' routine fool you. He might look like an all-American boy scout, but there's a lot more going on under the surface."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."

Sam shakes his head, still smiling. "Nah, I'll let you discover that for yourself. Where's the fun if I spoil all the surprises?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, keep your secrets. But seriously, Sam, thank you. For breakfast, for the pep talk, for everything. I'm really glad I got to meet you before tomorrow."

"Me too," Sam says, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. "To new beginnings and unexpected partnerships."

You clink your own mug against his, feeling a surge of warmth and camaraderie. As you finish your breakfast, the conversation flows easily between you and Sam. He regales you with stories of his adventures with Steve, carefully omitting any classified details but painting a vivid picture of the man you're about to marry.

You learn about Steve's dry sense of humor, his unwavering loyalty to his friends, and his surprising skill at sketching. Sam describes missions where Steve's quick thinking saved the day, but also quieter moments - movie nights with the team, intense debates over board games, and Steve's ongoing struggle to catch up on pop culture.

next part: LAS VEGAS & CLEVELAND

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week, usually posted on Fridays.

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sansaorgana · 19 hours ago

Text

— IN PERPETUITY (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — After murdering her husband, Sauron's wife disguises herself as a beautiful Elven maiden to live in Eregion and gain Lord Celebrimbor's trust as she hopes for him to forge her the Rings of Power. Her plans get interrupted when her husband comes back in a new form as well and he is thirsty for revenge.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕 I originally planned for Sauron to be the dom in this part but... oopsie, I got carried away and surprise, surprise... He is a sub again! 🤣

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT, choking, hair pulling, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 5,660

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (II)

You spent a few more decades in the North inside the very same fortress but its eerie aura was making you feel too uneasy. Adar could sense that too, as if Sauron’s death cursed this place furthermore.

He wanted to go with his children to The Southlands and to turn it into a home for the Orcs who could not bear the sunlight. You had slightly other plans but his schemes did not interfere with yours.

“I shall assist you and lead your army all the way South,” you told him one evening. “We should leave this place, it is not doing me any good and I cannot waste more time hiding here,” you informed him.

“What are your plans, my Lady?” Adar asked and you only smirked at him.

“What leader would I be if I shared all my schemes with you?” You asked and he clenched his jaw. You knew what was the thing he feared the most, so you quickly reassured him. “I want your children to have their home, too. In fact, such a land of darkness might be useful to me. I am not fond of sunlight either. Therefore, as I said, I shall lead you to The Southlands and assist you on the way. But after we arrive and you settle in, I will leave your side. We will remain in touch, of course,” you nodded. “But I trust you enough for us to split for a few centuries.”

In fact, you did not trust him enough. You would never trust anyone. But you had no other choice and you simply had to abandon your army for some time if your plan was supposed to turn out successful.

“Where will you go?” Adar asked and you gave him a mysterious smile.

“I have a business in Eregion.”

Indeed you had. Mairon was gone but not all of his ideas were. You were truly fascinated by his dream of crafting The Rings of Power but… you had killed your smith, therefore you needed a new one.

And who would be better for this task than Lord Celebrimbor himself? You just had to show up in Eregion as a fair Elven maiden and build his trust slowly, a century after century… And then, using some perfectly crafted and prepared beforehand opportunity, you would push him into the right direction.

You would have your Rings.

Your Ring.

And you did not need Mairon for any of that. It would just take slightly longer time but at least you did not have to bow to anyone or share your power.

Adar could see that you did not want to answer his questions any further, so he only nodded at you but he kept staring at you with squinted eyes.

Like you had planned, you did. Changed your appearance into one of the most beautiful Elven women in all Middle-earth and showed up in Eregion, claiming to come all this way from Mirkwood to learn Lord Celebrimbor’s craft.

The Mirkwood Elves were the most secluded kin, therefore no one was surprised to see you for the first time in their lives. But for that very reason you were also not trusted much in the beginning. That was no problem. You had time. All eternity.

Step by step, you began your journey. At first you were humble and compassionate without even seeing Lord Celebrimbor much. But as centuries passed, you were getting promotion after promotion until you found yourself being the very right hand of the Lord of Eregion.

Your backstory of coming from Mirkwood was useful in a different way, too – whenever you would go to The Southlands to check on Adar and your army, Elves of Eregion believed that you were visiting your family in Mirkwood.

Everything seemed to go well and according to your plan… Well, almost.

You could still sense him. Mairon. Even after leaving the cursed fortress where he had been slain, you could still feel his presence. You told no one about it, not even Adar. You had a feeling it was caused by the bond you shared with him through your blood but should you truly feel anything if he was dead?

You could sense which feelings were yours and which were unfamiliar to you and strange – those were undoubtedly his. And the main sensation you could feel in the back of your own, always creeping in the shadows of your soul like an unwanted guest was… hunger. Deep and primal starvation.

You tried to ignore that eerie sensation because you would go crazy if you tried to fight it or overthink it. However, late at night, when you were pretending to be asleep or studying the projects of the Rings that Mairon had left behind, you could feel it growing and growing inside of you. And your iron wedding ring that had been re-forged into a necklace seemed to burn your skin at those moments, too. But you never took it off for it was supposed to be a souvenir of a life you had once lived; of a previous Age.

You were quite sentimental despite your evil nature.

And when the light of the Elves began to fade in Middle-earth, you were frustrated and terrified that you were running out of time. If Celebrimbor was about to leave this realm, you would lose all those years of progress and preparations.

And who else would craft you such Rings? The dwarves? Would your next form be of a dwarf, trying to infiltrate Khazad-dûm?

You did not even want to think of such a possibility.

Thankfully, Celebrimbor was not eager to leave Middle-earth. He felt as if what he had done was not enough. He wanted to be remembered as the greatest Elf of this Age; the greatest smith for sure. The forge kept working throughout the crisis and at the very same time Adar finally managed to turn The Southlands into the new land.

Therefore, you left Eregion with an excuse to visit your family in Mirkwood. The times for the Elves were very challenging, so no one was angry at you for wanting to see your made up mother and siblings.

In fact, you hurried to The Southlands and you were truly in awe of what your Lieutenant had done to this place.

“How do you wish me to name it, my Lady?” Adar asked as you two were taking a walk amongst the ashes.

“Mordor,” you smirked at him.

“The Land of Shadow,” Adar nodded. “Why?”

“Mairon used to describe my heart this way,” you explained and Adar rolled his eyes slightly but he did not comment.

You continued your walk in silence. For a short while now, the eerie feeling from the back of your soul had been surprisingly gone and that sudden change was worrying to you. But perhaps after all those centuries of dying down slowly, Mairon’s spirit was truly gone now, leaving an oddly empty space within you…

“Do you miss him?” Adar asked suddenly and you shot him a scolding glance.

“Sometimes,” you answered truthfully. “I do not regret what I have done but we shared a long history and a powerful bond that went above our blood pact. He will remain a part of me in perpetuity.”

“My condolences,” Adar remarked and you snorted at his words.

In the evening of that day, you hopped onto your horse and went back to Eregion where surprisingly everything seemed to still be working and all the Elves were happier than ever.

“My dear (Y/N)!” Celebrimbor greeted you with open arms as you hugged him back, confused. “What you have missed, my friend, you will not believe it.”

“I can see that I must have missed something important indeed,” you mumbled.

“Come, let me show you,” Celebrimbor walked you to his forge and showed you the papers scattered all over his desk.

Those were projects of… the Rings.

Three Elven Rings for the Elven Kings. You froze at the sight of the drawings and the very familiar concepts.

“You… You came up with that idea to save our kin all by yourself, my friend?” You asked Celebrimbor. “They are the most exquisite,” you hummed to yourself.

“Oh, no, I…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously. “Well, Lady Galadriel came here and she brought a very special man with her. He was some sort of a human king, I do not know the details,” he shrugged his arms. “Either way, he was an enormous aid to me.”

“Are the drawings his?” Your heart skipped a beat at the revelation as your eyes studied the projects even more thoroughly.

“Yes. Some of them,” Celebrimbor nodded.

“I would like to meet him,” you clenched your jaw, trying your best to hide your nervousness.

“I am afraid that will be impossible, my dear. He is gone and Lady Galadriel claims he will never return. Even if he does, I have made my promise to her to never treat with him again,” Celebrimbor explained.

“I do wonder why,” you smirked to yourself but your hands turned cold when you realised it could have been him – your husband. Back in Middle-earth and so close to you.

He was the only one except for you who knew about the idea of the Rings. The idea was his, after all. And the lines of the drawings were like the ones you kept hidden inside your chambers that had been made by Mairon.

But what was even the meaning of all of this? You had spent centuries in Eregion, still too afraid to even mention the possibility of forging any Ring yet and he showed up and pushed Celebrimbor into making the Rings… just like that?!

“That man… Did he assist you in making those Rings?” You asked your friend and Celebrimbor shook his head with a sour expression.

“No, no… He only gave me an idea and helped me to find the way,” he answered and you nodded.

“Now, when the Elves are safe... Do you not think that perhaps other races would need such items, too?” You teased, carefully.

“(Y/N), my dear…” Celebrimbor laughed nervously and put his hands upon your shoulders. “Let us celebrate this victory first and leave the worry for some other day. Tell me, my friend, how is your family in Mirkwood?”

You were organising Celebrimbor’s papers inside his office while he watched with content how his smiths worked in the forge, drinking tea and smiling to himself. Your peace was interrupted by the smith Mirdania who gathered her skirts and walked up to Celebrimbor’s study.

“That human king… Halbrand. He is back,” she announced and you raised your head immediately.

“Well, tell him to go away,” Celebrimbor avoided her gaze. “In a polite manner, of course. I believe you can come up with something.”

“But… My Lord–” she started.

“I shall do it,” you stood up and nodded at him. “This way, we will get rid of him like Lady Galadriel asked but I will also meet the man who helped you to craft such wonders,” you smiled and Celebrimbor nodded.

You walked past Mirdania and all the way down to the gates of Eregion with your heart growing heavy with each step. Your blood ran cold as you could sense him indeed.

Your husband. Your nemesis.

He was back.

All the questions about how and why were unnecessary. You knew him too well and for the past centuries you had been feeling that what you had done to kill him truly had not been enough. Therefore, you were not as surprised as others would be.

But it still felt wrong and gut-twisting to see him again. The very last time you had seen him he had been a dead body laying in the puddle of his blood after your treachery.

Approaching the gates, you spotted a ragged man of human species with dark hair and dirty tunic. You would never recognise your husband in that person if it was not for the strong feeling in your heart that he was no one else but Mairon.

His back was turned on you but you saw his body freezing when you stood there. He sensed your presence, too.

He turned around, slowly, as you watched with curiosity. His form was different now and the hair colour was not the only thing that changed. His eyes, his nose, his lips, even his height were different. But despite the brand new form, he was Mairon.

He was your husband and you would recognise him anywhere.

And you were his wife and he would recognise you, too. Your form differed now from the one he had remembered as well. Those were not the very same hands that had slain him; yet they belonged to the same person.

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you told him, playing your role as well as you could under such circumstances.

Short silence occurred.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked and shrugged his arms, deciding to play his role, too.

“My Lord is occupied,” you explained, “but he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away, feeling your hands beginning to tremble.

“What a beautiful necklace it is that you have, my Lady. Was it a gift perhaps? From someone special to you?” He asked and you stood still, closing your eyes and sighing before turning around to face him once more.

“From an old friend who is long gone now,” you forced your lips to curl up and form a smile. “Are you not leaving?”

“I’ll just wait here,” he informed you. “Just in case the Lord of Eregion changes his mind.”

He will not, you wanted to say, I will make sure of it.

But you could not because that would be highly suspicious to treat him this way and the guards were standing there. Therefore, you only nodded and went back to Celebrimbor, feeling the necklace on your chest burning your skin to the point where tears of pain formed in your eyes.

You were trying to make Celebrimbor remember the promise he had made to Lady Galadriel and many times you mentioned to him how dirty and filthy you had found the human king named Halbrand. Mirdania, on the other hand, seemed to be enamoured with your husband’s new form and she was his greatest advocate.

“I am retiring to my chambers,” you informed Celebrimbor on that night after working for a few hours with him and Mirdania. “I suggest you two do the same, it has been a long and tiresome day.”

“And the night is so cold,” Mirdania sighed, looking out of the window.

You ignored her and smiled at Celebrimbor before going to your chambers and locking the doors behind you. The very first thing you did was to take off the necklace around your neck but when you did, you spotted a burn mark in the shape of it.

You focused on healing yourself but no amount of your powers was enough to heal it.

“What is going on…?” You muttered to yourself. You were a being much too powerful to fail at healing your form from such a minor injury.

Nothing seemed to work, though. Frustrated, you put the necklace back on to hide the scar with it and you changed into your nightgown.

As a Maia, you did not need sleep. But lots of the nights you were actually laying in bed and taking naps, because there were not many things you could do. And tonight you had to think of a new plan because Mairon’s return was not a part of your perfect scenario.

If only you had your crown with you, you would just take it, go downstairs and stab him with it again. But your crown was in Mordor, under Adar’s protection. Taking an item so dark and powerful to Eregion would make some of the Elves sense its disturbing presence.

But the crown itself apparently would not be enough. You needed allies. And as you tossed and turned in your bed, you were thinking of the Rings crafted by Celebrimbor. If they were not corrupted by Mairon, you could use them to help you.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a rapid knocking upon your doors. You groaned slightly and stood up to open the doors, expecting to see Mirdania in them, pleading for you to help her convince Celebrimbor to show mercy to the human king waiting by the gates. She had made such an attempt many times on that day already.

But when you opened the doors, you realised that she did not need your aid to succeed because she apparently had already convinced Celebrimbor to allow Halbrand inside Eregion.

There he stood, face-to-face with you. In yet another form but this one did not differ that much from the previous one. His ears were pointy now and Elven, his hair was blond and long. He was no longer ragged and dirty but seemed to radiate the light of Valinor and only a creature as dark as you could sense how twisted and corrupted the illusion was.

His robes were grey and humble, especially compared to yours. Even though you were in nothing but your nightgown, your clothes were the most exquisite. In the very early days you had been a disciple of Vairë The Weaver and ever since you had always had a taste for beautiful fabrics.

“Mairon…” You whispered, taking a step back because his presence was so overlooming that you could not do anything else but retreat.

“Wife,” he greeted you through gritted teeth and entered your chambers before shutting the doors closed.

“What is it with the new form? Are you trying to deceive Celebrimbor like this?” You snorted, nervously. “I shall reveal the truth to him.”

“You will not because you would have to tell him the truth about yourself, too. And that is something you will simply not do,” Mairon smirked and walked around your room. He froze at the sight of his drawings on your desk. The old ones, from the First Age. “So, that is why you are here.”

“And you? Why?” You asked and crossed your arms. “Why are you back with the living, dark spirit? Must you torment me so?”

“Torment you?” He asked, angrily, as his eyes filled with pure rage and hatred.

Before you could react, his hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the wall with his burning eyes right in front of yours as his eyelashes brushed your cheeks and you felt his hot breath on your parted lips.

“It is you who tormented me. Who betrayed me and slain me,” he drawled out.

“And you should thank me for it,” you smirked even though you were losing oxygen. You did not need it but it was still a slight inconvenience to your flesh.

“Thank you? I shall kill you, witch,” his grasp tightened.

“If you were not reborn, you would still be that pathetic and weak Mairon I remember. But you are different now. You have changed,” you pointed out and he let go of your throat but his eyes remained cold and empty; two black abysses observing your every movement as if he was a predator watching his prey.

“The change was required. The centuries I have spent on regaining my strength, I was driven by nothing but my desire for revenge. My hatred for you,” he spat out.

“Liar,” you were quick to answer. “All I could sense was hunger. And even now, I see you do not wish to see me slain. Otherwise, you would have already killed me.”

“Oh, sweet wife, you will not know the day nor the hour. I am all in for the dramatics just like you were,” he remarked.

“You are nobody, Mairon. Sauron. I am the one the Uruk follow and I am the one for whom Mordor is being prepared to rule over. I am the very foundation of this whole realm and I am its future,” you took a deep breath in as you stated. “You are nothing but a forgotten shadow that no one wants to follow, not even the filthiest of the creatures.”

“I am your husband,” Mairon’s fury won over his flesh once more as he grabbed you with all force by your arm. “And if I am nobody as you claim, you will forever be stained by being bound to a man like me.”

“You should have stayed dead, Mairon. I will turn your life into hell,” you threatened, your anger amplified by his as they mixed in your veins. “Do try to remember the suffering our master had put you through and I shall be worse. I will destroy you for good this time. I will tear you apart, piece by piece and torture every inch of you until you beg me to release you from your pathetic life forever but for each plea I will prolong the pain,” you drawled out and he grabbed you by your hair to pull on it as his fist tangled in your hair.

“You are only giving me ideas on how to get rid of you, treacherous vixen,” he whispered maliciously into your face. “The bane of my existence,” he added angrily as his empty eyes looked you up and down, stopping for a moment on your parted lips.

And then he kissed you. Eagerly and passionately, not letting go of your hair at all but pulling on it even harder and making your head throw back as your teeth clashed.

You clinged to his robes with your fists, trying to push him away but he was too strong for you to be able to do so. His free hand tore your nightgown off of your body as if he was a wild animal using his claws to get to what he craved the most.

You whined and he broke the kiss, holding your hair in his fist and twisting it to make you wince out of pain.

“Why did you betray me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes and even though his expression was terrifying, you could sense his pain.

“I could have asked you the same, Mairon. Why did you betray me, husband?” You whimpered, searching for an answer in his eyes but he seemed to be confused that you were accusing him of such things. “We were supposed to rule together as equals but you were too greedy, my love, too eager. Yet, you were not fit to rule, not yet. So desperate to prove your worth.”

“Shut it,” Mairon growled and looked down at your naked body and the torn nightgown at your feet. “Are you not the most vain? The form you took as an Elf is so beautiful – too beautiful. How can they not think of it as suspicious?”

“And you? Are you not vain, too?” You snorted at him and he let go of your hair, pushing you away and making your back hit the wall.

Mairon grabbed your necklace and tore it off of you to throw it on the ground as well, revealing your burn mark. He smirked at it before putting his hands on your naked hips and pulling you closer to his body. His lips placed wet and open-mouth kisses all around your neck where the scar was and you could feel it healing as his fingers were digging deep into your bones and pulling you harder and harder into him, the harsh fabric of his robes irritating your soft and sensitive now-Elven skin.

The sensation of his lips around your neck and the pain from his rough treatment excited you. It had been centuries after the last time you had given in to the desires of your flesh.

It had been centuries after you had experienced such desires at all. Apparently, it was only him who could awaken them within you.

You whined and moaned, reaching with your hands to cup his face and to bring his lips close to yours once more. This time it was you initiating the hungry and teeth-clashing kiss.

“I have lost centuries because of you, witch,” Mairon whispered after you broke the kiss. “You humiliated me. You betrayed me. You slaughtered me. I bled out. I fought each given moment to survive in the very depths of that cursed fortress. I spent ages on regaining my strength as a shadow with no heart, no limbs – merely a mind. Yet, a woman like you is worth the sacrifice. If it was your wish for me to be reborn into a man worthy of you, let it be then,” he breathed out and you let out a twisted laugh.

“Just like my old Mairon,” you caressed his new cheeks. “New face, new body, new powers… The very same pathetic devotion,” you chuckled and pushed him down onto your bed.

You crawled up on top of him with a grin, your hair falling down on his face as he gasped and you treated his robes with gentleness similar to the way he had treated your nightgown with – you tore them off of him and threw them on the floor.

“If you wish to follow me, my sweet Mairon,” you raised an eyebrow as you lowered yourself on his hard length, hissing at the feeling you had nearly forgotten, “you will follow me as my most humbled Lieutenant. You will bow down at my feet and pledge your allegiance to your Queen,” you began to roll your hips, which brought you great pleasure but to him it was nothing but a tease. His lips parted and cheeks blushed as your grin grew even wider. “Say it, my love. Tell me that you will.”

Short while of hesitation occurred. But when you began to clench the muscles of your cunt willingly to squeeze his cock as you circled your hips, he whined and nodded.

“I promise,” he breathed out.

You knew his words were not genuine but you enjoyed playing with him for now.

“I will make you my dog, Sauron,” you called him with the name he was known as amongst the Elves. The dirty name, spoken out like filth. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat when your hips stopped rolling and started to bounce slowly on his cock as you placed your hands behind you on his thighs to steady yourself. “Say it,” you ordered, harshly.

“I will be your dog,” he winced at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him and sucking in all the precum he had spilled already from your ministrations. “I will crawl on my knees after you, kiss the ground you walked on, build altars for you and make others worship you, too. This will be my purpose; the only war I will fight for you. The holy war to convert all the unbelievers.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, my Mairon,” you admitted and leaned in to kiss his lips while putting one of your hands on his chest now as your hips picked up their pace. It was nearly brutal now how you were fucking him and you could feel your own high coming, too. But it never ended with one with your husband. “If you truly will be as good as you promise me to be, I will let you reside between my legs and lick my cunt in return,” you teased, “for as long as you wish, my sweet.”

To see you pleased with him was all he had ever wanted. Therefore, it was no surprise that your words were enough to make him fill you up that very moment as you threw your head back, laughing, straightening your back and continuing to ride him as if nothing had happened.

He whined and whimpered for a while, which you ignored, determined to reach your high as well. And it did come shortly after but by that time he was hard yet once more and that was how it had always been between you two – once you started, it was nearly impossible to stop.

However, when the dawn came, you had to put a halt to your desires, because you both had your duties around Eregion. As the sun rose, you left your husband casually as if you hadn’t just reached yet another one of your highs and you opened the wardrobe to pick the gown for the day, leaving him behind.

He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his elbow as he watched you with squinted eyes, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks still blushing. He was a sight, indeed. He had always been.

“It was never your intention to share your power with me either, was it?” He asked and you snorted at that.

“Do not be a fool. Why would I ever do that?” You asked with contempt.

“You are not hurt by my betrayal. Only your pride is hurt that I dared to betray you first,” Mairon pointed out.

“You forget yourself. I have killed you once and I shall kill you again,” you reminded him and brushed your hair in a rush after putting the dress on.

And just like that, you left him inside your chambers to go on with your day with a smile.

Despite everything between you two, you were glad to have him back. He was treacherous and awful – absolutely the worst. And yet, your life without him had been quite lonely and empty. A dull grey.

And if there had to be only two creatures left in the world, you hoped it would be you and him. In perpetuity.

After running your morning errands, you walked inside the forge and froze at the sight of Mairon. He had his grey and humble robes back on with no trace of your fingers tearing them open a few hours earlier. Celebrimbor and Mirdania were standing next to him and they all laid their eyes upon you the moment you joined them.

“(Y/N), my dear. You will not believe me who our human king turned out to be,” Celebrimbor exclaimed, excitedly. “Come here, my friend. Let me introduce you to Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, the emissary of The Valar,” he beckoned you over and you approached them, trying very hard not to laugh. To see Mirdania’s eyes full of affection and admiration as she stared at your husband only intensified your need to laugh, but you managed to stop yourself.

“It is such an honour, my Lord. Forgive me for the way I treated you by the gates,” you bowed your head at him.

“There is no need, my Lady. Lord Celebrimbor has been telling me a lot about you. You are his most trusted friend,” he looked you up and down intensely although the smile he gave you was kind. Nearly sweet. “And the most beautiful Elven maiden I have ever laid my eyes upon, most certain,” he added to tease you as Celebrimbor cleared his throat and looked away, awkwardly, while Mirdania lowered her head.

“You are way too generous with your compliments, my Lord,” you only answered. “What is the purpose of your visit to Eregion?”

“Lord Annatar is here to help me with the Rings,” Celebrimbor joined the conversation again immediately as his eyes sparkled.

“Are they not finished?” You furrowed your brows.

“No, no, my dear. Remember when you told me that perhaps we should craft more of them for other races that might be in need?” Celebrimbor asked.

“You did, my Lady?” Mairon raised his eyebrow at you with a very surprised expression, which made him look quite adorably innocent but you knew that he was teasing you and you had to fight an urge to roll your eyes.

“Mayhaps,” you only mumbled.

“Well, Lord Annatar is here to help me with these designs. You were right, my dear, we cannot abandon our friends in need no matter what kin they are,” Celebrimbor seemed to be content with this idea and you gritted your teeth.

You truly wanted to punch your husband right into that oh-so-innocent face as everyone would gasp and call you a monster. How dared he? You had spent centuries earning Celebrmbor’s trust and there he was, showing up in that blasphemous disguise and being the saviour of the day without any preparations; stealing and wooing the Lord of Eregion?

Therefore, a new and wicked idea bloomed inside of your mind.

To sabotage Mairon’s plan.

“Oh, really? Well, I’ve been thinking of it, my Lord. I do not think it is a good idea, after all, even though it was originally mine,” you told Celebrimbor and his smile dropped.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I do not think any other race is worthy of those rings. Who next? The Dwarves? And then? Humans? Once we agree to craft the rings for humans, we could as well craft them for the Orcs!” You exclaimed, dramatically.

Celebrimbor gasped and turned around as if he was rethinking his decision. Mirdania was not paying attention anymore to you and standing by the window, still jealous of the praise Lord Annatar had graced you with.

Therefore, your husband allowed himself to break the play for a moment and give you a deadly look, to which you replied with a wink.

The game had started and oh, how thrilling it was, how exciting to have an opponent.

And, in the end of it all, you would either kill him once more or end up dead yourself by his hand.

Or, perhaps, your love would only flourish in this environment of constant bickering and rivalry. Perhaps you would rejoin your souls and fates like you had rejoined your flesh on the night before.

Either way, the game was worth playing.

In perpetuity.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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levans44 · 1 day ago

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what’s it gonna take to break your heart?

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

summary: He vows to keep his distance, tells himself it's wrong—you're too new, too young, too reckless—and he's your commanding officer.

But whichever way he bends it, he can't seem to escape the truth.

warnings: angst, slow build, inside the tortured mind™ of steven grant rogers, mention of age difference, light mention of blood/injury

word count: 1k

a/n: thought i'd write something from steve's pov, for a change. this will be a longer series but each part is meant to be readable as a stand-alone piece. title by FINNEAS.

One of these days, you’re gonna be what does him in.

You’re a wildfire, a blaze barely contained. Too young, too bright, too intense for someone like him. Next to you, he's just a smoldering ember, tempered by decades of ash.

Fresh-faced, barely in your mid-20s, yet hand-selected by Fury from the newest round of Avengers recruits. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the group to catch onto your talent and grit—they start calling you their wildcard, the Ace.

Still, there’s no denying your age. Leagues younger than everyone else, with a certain vibrance in your eyes that sets you apart.

Too young to devote the rest of your life to this kind of work.

And far too young for him to be feeling the way he does about you.

So he does everything he can to keep you at arm’s length, swallowing down every sidelong glance, every quick-witted comment and smile that eats away at his resolve.

But then you actualize the worst of his fears during a routine operation, throwing yourself head-first into a burning building, just moments away from collapsing.

You, with a life teeming with potential, nearly taken in a heartbeat.

And Steve snaps.

The Quinjet is barely off the ground when he strides through the haze of desert debris, making a beeline for you. Doesn’t spare you a second to catch your breath, dragging you by the arm to the rear of the cargo deck, raised eyebrows from the rest of the crew be damned.

By the time he releases his ironclad grip, cornering you against a stack of weapon crates, he’s scanned you for injuries at least three times over.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, chest heaving like he’s the one who’s just sprinted across a collapsing rooftop and leapt onto an airborne vehicle.

“What do you mean?”

You cock your head earnestly, arms crossed as you stare up at him.

And he swears, he could end it all right then and there.

Face covered in soot, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth—and you have the audacity to smile. The sharp corners of your lips pierce into smooth, rounded cheeks, still flushed red with exertion. As stunning as the day he first saw you, even with all the grime, sweat, and blood staining your skin.

Steve’s jaw clenches, concealing the tightness in his stomach with a gruff sigh.

“You know exactly what. I ordered you not to engage.”

Not a flicker of hesitation when you fire back:

“She had kids. I didn’t have a choice.”

Directives and protocols gone by the wayside, earpiece tossed behind your shoulder as you head straight for a family trapped on the top floor—his orders to wait for the Quinjet buried in the dust.

And he shouldn’t have expected anything less.

He breathes through his nostrils, eyes fluttering shut, but all he can hear is the blood roaring in his ears.

But you did have a choice, he wants to argue. You don’t have to bear it all on your own.

Why must you always be the one to rush to the frontlines?

But the words that come out are cold and detached, bypassing the part of his brain that wants to reach out and gently wipe the soot off your cheek:

“That’s not the point. If the building had collapsed, you would have only added to the casualty count.”

“Maybe. But the Quinjet wasn’t gonna get there in time. I had to take the risk.”

A quiet sigh, gloved fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Agent, we don’t gamble with lives like that.”

Your sharp laugh cuts through the air, piercing his ears. Too sharp against the soft outline of your jaw, the smooth contours of your neck. You shoot him a look, the clarity in your irises reflecting his hypocrisy.

“Funny coming from you, isn’t it Cap?”

There it was, that derision in your tone, a sneer on your pretty lips as you spit out his title like a a dirty word.

And damn him for wanting to taste it off your tongue, hear you gasp it into his neck as he presses you against the cold, steel-plated wall behind you.

Leather gloves creak under his grip as he balls his fists, eyes darting to the wound on your upper arm when he can't formulate a quick enough response. A large glass shrapnel from the window you’d crashed through—a steady trail of dark crimson trickling down your forearm all the way to your dirt-laden fingertips, where it hits the floor in slow drips.

“Just… go get that patched up.”

Lips curling over bright teeth, you salute him with your injured arm without so much as blinking, a line of blood running back down your wrist.

“Yessir.”

For the entire 7-hour ride from Lagos to base camp, he stays glued to a seat in the back of the Quinjet, head bowed over a tablet as he busies himself with sorting through gathered intel. Desperately ignores your animated banter with Natasha and Sam from the other side of the cabin, where you drown out the steady drone of the engine with your bright laughter.

When a sudden shriek sounds from your direction, he spares a quick glance, finding you with your arms over your head, laughing and swatting the air as Redwing circles teasingly above you. Nearly snaps his tablet in half the moment you suddenly bend over, the stretch of your tactical suit clinging to your hips as you reach for the drone control panel on Sam’s wrist.

As soon as the wheels screech down on the tarmac, Steve gets to unloading the jet, hauling crate after crate of equipment just to avoid meeting your gaze.

Hours later, when the paperwork’s taken care of and everyone’s retreated to their quarters, he drags himself to the training room on base.

Throws his fists against a punching bag, each strike a desperate attempt to sweat out the impure thoughts. Praying he can free himself of the images in his head—images of you—he doesn’t let up until the first rays of sunlight hit the gym. The skin over his knuckles start to split after a while, but he doesn’t bother wrapping them. They’ll heal soon enough.

And when neither the 4-hour gym session nor the scalding hot shower afterward washes you away from his thoughts, burning brightly as ever in the back of his mind, he sinks into bed, fuming.

You’re too new, too young.

It’s a breach of protocol, he’s technically your commanding officer.

You don't think of him in that way.

Yet, whichever way he bends it, there’s no escaping the truth.

It’s a sharp, exquisite kind of ache, one that wraps around his chest, tightening with every breath, until it’s the only thing he can feel.

And damn it, it’s a torture sweeter than anything he's ever known.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #reader insert #mcu #mcu marvel #mcu fic #captain america #captain america fic #captain america fanfiction #angst #slow burn

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itsthestutterforme · 3 days ago

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Touch Starved (Best!Friend!Ari x black!reader)

Summary: It’s been a year since your boyfriend, Steve, passed away. You chose to stay celibate ever since his passing, and you’ve accepted the fact you were touch starved. But when there’s a lesson on it in your psychology class, you learned more about yourself than you realized. You learned a little bit about your best friend, Ari, too.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, sexual themes (oral sex, shower sex, allusions to sex, overstimulation, touch starvation), MINORS DNI!!

Folding your arm at an awkward angle, you rested your chin on the back of your forearm as wrote your notes with your IPad stylus for your PSY 101 class.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” your best friend Ari stated, looking at you as if you grew two heads.

“First of all, fix your face.” You gave him a side eye before you continued writing.

“And secondly?” He sparks.

“And secondly- it is very comfortable.”

The professor continued, “Touch starvation. While it is a prognosis disclaimed from medicine, there is trace evidence of its existence. In most cases, it initiates from a long duration of abstinence. In some cases, it can be as short as six months.”

Ari glances over at you calmly writing your notes, hoping that he isn’t somehow giving himself away. He hasn’t been with anyone for the past seven months.

He didn’t find a point. No one could distract him from the fact that he was in love with you.

The boys in his frat thinks he spends the weekend hooking up with random chicks in his classes.

When really, he spends his weekends binge watching Love Island and doing spa days with you.

He would never live it down if his frat brother knew. But truthfully, he could care less if they find out.

“Touch Starvation tests the fine line between desperation and overstimulation. When you’re touch starved, it drives you to become desperate for human touch and connection,”

Ari noticed you stopped writing and looked up at the professor as he continued. Your slowed blinking tells Ari that you were dissociating.

“But if a connection is a second too long, it overstimulates your sense pushing you to escape. Which still doesn’t change one fact: you still want that connection. It truly does push your psyche to its breaking point, which segways into tonight’s homework,”

Ari touches your hand gingerly, snapping you out of your thoughts. He takes note that you don’t move your hand away from his.

“Are you alright?” He questions.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.. did you write the homework down?”

“It’s right here,” he pushes his agenda towards you so you could write down the homework assignment.

A writing prompt entailing which areas you are touch starved.

Just perfect, you thought to yourself.

Ari waits patiently for you to start packing up first before he did. You bit your lip as you slid your iPad into your backpack, a tell sign that you were overthinking.

He lets you in front of him as the two of you wait in line to leave the classroom.

The two of you didn’t talk much the entire five minutes it took to get to your dorm room.

“Okay, spill.” Ari states, tossing his backpack on the ground and flipping your chair backwards to sit down in one fluid motion.

“There’s nothing to spill,” you said, still biting your lip as you attempted to take your IPad from your backpack.

Standing from the chair, he took your backpack from your hands and set it on the ground.

“You know you can at least try to make it sound convincing,” He retorts, crossing his massive arms across his chest.

“Do you think you’re touch starved?” He asked after a few moments of silence, causing you to sigh.

“I know I am. But it’s my choice to be this way.” You sat on your bed, folding your hands in your lap.

“Your choice?” Ari repeats as he joins you on the bed.

“I know I’m never going to find a love like I had with Steve. I’m lucky to even experience a love like that in the first place. Men like you and Steve are rare. Believing that I’ll find something like that again is just setting myself up for disappointment.”

“What, so you’re just going to give up on finding love?” He wanted to kick himself for getting riled up.

“Honestly? Yeah, I have.” You start, Ari’s heart clenches in his chest.

Maybe he didn’t have a chance after all.

“It‘s not necessarily a bad thing. Being single seems to be the end of the world for some people. But for me, it’s liberating.”

“It’s not liberating if you’re touch starved though, right?” Ari says cautiously.

“It’s better than hopping from relationship to relationship, trying to fill a void that I know I won’t fill.” You said with a sigh, leaning your back agains the bed.

Ari lays down next to you with a sigh of his own. “Can I.. tell you something?” You hesitate, turning your head to face him.

“Anything,”

“Every night, I would hold my face the way Steve used to. It helps me fall asleep.”

“How did Steve used to hold your face?”

You sat up and looked at him a moment. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, you guess you to see if he was joking or not.

He slowly sits up, waiting for you to say something. Say anything.

When you don’t, he says, “You don’t have to. Sorry I-“

You lifted your hand and gently pressed your palm to the side of Ari’s face, his beard felt soft against your skin.

Caressing the apple of his cheek, Ari wanted to shut his eyes and relish in the feeling of this intimate moment.

But his eyes remained set on you. Adjusting your hand on his face, a breath hitched in his throat when you moved closer to cradle the other side of his face in your hands.

You let out a shaky sigh when you gently ghost your thumb over his smooth lips.

“That’s how he used to hold me.”

You had to pull away. You needed to. But you couldn’t. And neither could Ari.

“I.. need to tell you something, Y/N/N.” He starts, pulling your hands away from his face and taking them into his warm hands.

But before he could say anything else, the door jiggled. Something that your roommate did to give you a warning before barging in.

Although you told her you had no interest in bringing a guy home, she still did it.

You suppose this time, you appreciated it. Jumping up from the bed, you brushed a few curls out of your face.

Unable to meet his gaze, you grabbed your backpack from the floor and scrambled to look as normal as possible.

Ari took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His soft gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“We should have a talk,”

“We should,” you agreed.

“You feeling okay?” Ari questions when he walks into your dorm room shirtless with his black sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his V line peeking from his waist band.

You heard a few girls giggling in the hall but Ari didn’t pay them any mind. “Hey, Ari. There’s a-“

“Not interested,” Ari closes the door before they had a chance to get closer.

You pressed your lips together to hold back your smirk. You had no idea why you were smirking in the first place.

“Y/N,” “Hm?” “I said were you feeling okay?” Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you see Ari removing his towel from his shoulder and exposing his bare chest.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. Help me pick a movie, Aladdin or Princess and the Frog?” You said, changing the subject.

“Princess and the Frog,” he determines, climbing into bed with you. You pressed play on the movie and sat up against the window sill.

“You know they were probably going to invite you to a party,” “I don’t care about parties,” he said with a sigh, cocking his head as he sat up on his elbow.

“You’re in a fraternity. You’re supposed to care about parties,” “Fraternities are over rated,”

“Then why did you even join one?” “I thought it would add enough charisma to get you to fall in love with me,”

You thought he was serious at first but when he cracked a smile, you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“You’re such a dick,” you said, shoving his shoulder. The A/C unit on the ceiling kicks on and blows consistently cold air directly onto of you.

You slide under the covers and Ari wrapped an arm around you, pulling your body directly into his chest.

You sucked in a breath when his hand finds your stomach. His warmth radiating off of him felt like a furnace.

The movie continued to play and neither of you said anything. This wasn’t the first time he’s come over and held you.

The two of you came to an agreement a week ago and now, every day after his rugby practice, Ari came over.

But you couldn’t help your heart racing in your chest. Especially since you could feel Ari looking at you as you watched the movie.

“How long are we going to pretend there’s nothing here?” Ari finally questions and you slowly stir in his arms.

You didn’t miss his gaze flicker from your eyes down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m not pretending,”

You’re lying through your teeth, and he knows that. “Oh yeah? Then why is your heart racing?”

“Because of that,” you stated, motioning to his shirtless glory. “And why would this make you nervous unless you were attracted to it?”

“God, would you stop asking valid questions, please?” Ari chuckles at your nervousness, causing you to huff.

“This isn’t funny,” you added softly, covering your face as you lay back down on the bed.

He pulls your hands away from your face and took your face into his hands.

He rested his forehead against yours and waited for you to exhibit anything that showed him you didn’t want this.

He was surprised when you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his.

He tangles his fingers into your hair to pull you closer and you gasped when he nipped at your bottom lip, giving his tongue access.

He brings one of his hands away from your face and gripped the edge of your bed.

Your lips fell into sync with his, you could still taste the toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth moments before.

You find yourself pulling away from him a moment and his eyes searched yours. “I-I’m.. Do you want me to leave?”

His eyes darken when your hands trailed up his arms and down his toned back muscles.

“No, I don’t want you to leave.” “What do you want* me to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

He looked at you for a few seconds before looking down at your waist. He looked back up at you, asking a silent question.

“Are you.. asking if you can eat me out?”

“Yes,” he lets out a breath.

“Is that something you think about often?” “I think about it every day, yes.”

“Every day?”

“Please,”

Is he begging right now?

“Okay,” you lifted your hips up and pulled your shorts down your legs. You moved to take off your panties but he stopped you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You nodded and he parted your legs, sliding between them.

He gripped your chin and pressed a long kiss on your lips, gasping into your mouth when you scratched down his back.

“You keep doing that and I won’t be able to contain myself.” So you did it again, harder this time.

Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you close so you were nose to nose.

“Sorry,” you gasped out, wetness stained through your panties. He taps your cheek with his index finger as a warning before pulling away and leveling himself with your core.

Looking to you one last time, you nod and he pulls them down your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

He kisses the swell of your thighs, propping your legs over his shoulders before he flattens his tongue between your folds.

He laps at your clit each time he licks up your stripe. Your legs were already starting to shake as you quickly neared your orgasm.

It was to be expected, considering you didn’t have sex for over a year. But it was still embarrassing nonetheless.

You clenched your stomach muscles as an attempted to hold back your orgasm and closed your legs around his head.

He groans in annoyance, spreading your legs all the way and roughly suck at your clit until you were convulsing.

“Ari,” you whimpered, pushing at his head when he continued to lap up your juices once you’ve came down from your orgasm.

He pulls away from you, finally giving you a chance to breathe. Sitting up on his knees, he watches your chest move with deep heaves and his gaze fell back to your pussy.

And suddenly he felt the impulse to go back down.

Readjusting himself in his sweatpants, he licks his lips to reminisce your taste.

“You okay?” He questions.

“I can’t believe I came that fast,” you said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I mean, that’s normal considering.” He responds.

His voice was an octave lower than usual and it made a gush of wetness made its way down your thighs.

Your body was responsive. Responsive to him. And Ari loved every bit of that.

“Dude where have you been?” Trent asks, sitting down next to Ari in the dining hall.

“I’ve been at practice dude,” “And what? They have overnight practices now?” Trent prods.

When Ari doesn’t respond, Trent huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever dude. There’s a meeting tonight at 6:30, and if you’re not there, Sam will have your ass.”

“I’ll be there. Relax, man.” Ari states, pretending to read a textbook he had open when he was really watching some guy come up to you at the salad bar.

Once Trent leaves, Ari goes back to watching the entire interaction.

“Hey, you’re one of the supervisors for the training center, right?” The man asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I am.”

You picked up a bowl and used the prong to put lettuce on the bottom.

“Alright, so I’m failing CHEM 212. A buddy of mine said that you helped bump his grade up like 10 points. So I was wondering if you could do the same for me.” He explained, taking a step closer to you which made Ari’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, I don’t tutor anymore. I’m a supervisor now, so I just oversee the tutors that currently work at the center. I can make a suggestion, if you want.”

“No, I don’t want a suggestion. I want you.”

Once Ari sees you take a step back from the man, he jumps from his seat and weaves through the tables until he reached you.

When he got close enough to you, he heard the man say, “Look, why can’t you just make an exception and tutor me?”

“Because she made it clear that she didn’t want to. No means no, dick.” Ari says from behind you.

“What the fuck did you just say?” The man says.

You use the counter top to stabilize yourself. You’re not sure how you’re walking around right now. Not after Ari had his way with you in the shower, not caring if anyone could walk in.

Only to carry you back to your dorm and flipped you over so he could eat it from the back. All before your PSY 101 class.

“You heard what I said the first time,” Ari closes the gap between him and the guy.

He waits until they were chest to chest.

“That’s my girlfriend. Show some fucking respect.” He adds.

“My bad bro, I really need to pass the semester.”

“You should have thought about that before you were an asshole,” Ari states, taking your hand into his and walking the two of you back to the table.

“What?” Ari says when he catches you looking at him once the two of you sat down.

“You called me your girlfriend,” you said, popping a cherry tomato in your mouth.

“Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You became my girlfriend the minute l found out how you tasted,” he eyes you as he takes a swig of his Coke.

He didn’t miss the way you pressed your legs together when he licks his lips after sipping his drink.

He leans closely to ask, “Did you want to take the salad to go?”

#ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #black!reader

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