#thank you for the kind words by the way! i hope your day is good too

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[treatbuckywkisses]

hello I am HERE :))

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with. - the subtle shift you've given him to be alert without being afraid is so so so so so personal to me

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory. - I'm sick over this I'm going to think about this paragraph for DAYS

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.  - this is so mushy :(( HIS GIRL im sick

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world. - this part is oh so soft to me and that is so very precious 

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult? -, paired with No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty. - is CRIMINAL YOU MAKE ME SICK HOW COULD YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO SOFT AND MAKE ME LIVE WITH THIS I am unwell and it's all your fault 

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days. - why are you doing this to me he is perfect :( 

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.  - oh my God I need to be adored this way I'm so speechless this is literally just so perfect the ideal love :( mir 

Your writing is something so deeply personal and special to me I hope you always know that<3 you write so beautifully vivid and clear. The way you write bucky (especially in love) is so unmatched, nobody is doing it like you baby!!!!!! This is so mushy and soft absolutely the kind of love we deserve! Thank you so much for sharing this with me 🫶🏻❣️

I was just re-reading you deserve a soft epilogue, my love and this popped up on my pinterest home page:

https://pin.it/1gHYpch

and I thought if Bucky was roaming the farmers market by himself, these looked like the type of arrangement he’d get for you when he stumbled across them 🥰🌹🌸🌷🌻🌼💐 and if it’s in the beginning he’d be all shy giving them to you.

in layman's terms

beefy bucky x f!reader (you deserve a soft epilogue, my love AU)

warnings: slight angst, entirely too much fluff

wc: 2k!

a/n: this is the first thing i've written in months. i'm feeling a lot of emotions, i really thought i'd never share something on here again– but i'm thankful my brain let me think on the sweetest boy for a brief moment in time. and a special thank you to my Col for always encouraging me and being the best cheerleader ever <3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

The uneven cobblestone streets seem just a bit more solid under Bucky’s heavy boots.

Walking swiftly through the once frightening streets of Bucharest, his careful gait grounds him steady along the known trek, and the low bun laced with your hair tie bounces against his neck as an annoying reminder of the heat– just a couple more errands and he’ll be home with you. A few loose tendrils tickle his skin as his feet briskly carry him towards a cart he remembers you stealing glances at, several times, during your countless walks together.

The smell of honey and loaves of fresh bread swirl by him as he strides past more meaningless produce and knickknacks alike, pondering why you’ve never asked to grab a quick bite and stop to actually admire the flowers now directly in his line of sight.

The crowding of somewhat blurry and familiar faces doesn’t seem to bother him the way it used to– no reason to cause him to cower, to keep his head down with the threat of being seen.

Bucky has you to turn to, to encourage him when he needs reminding of who he is. He has you to go home to. He never imagined walking so weightlessly.

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with.

The sun beats down on him with a cool breeze, kinder than it’s been in a very long time– maybe, that’s why a faint smile has been stretched across his lips since he left his apartment. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t pay any mind to the kids playing a rough game of tag or the loud arguing of the people just behind him. He feels a calm kindness meant for him; Bucky breathes along with it.

The breeze follows his content steps and at the prospect of one of your “secret” joys– one where he finds himself alone and able to indulge in his own selfish desire of loving you–, the flowers and stems you always gleam at, bustling with their vibrant hues of corals and luxurious creams, immediately caught his eye.

The blush of the petals reminds him of the sound of your honeyed laugh; the ghostly whites nestled between an almost neon green array of garnish indulge him with the fuzzy feeling of melting inside your sweet embrace.

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory.

Even now, walking alone, the small walkways between seas of overbearing people and bruised fruit now sound of only delicate fingers held tightly in his; of soft whispers nestled just behind his ear only for him to hear; of those hidden kisses teasing at his neck, crashing against the life of his pulse.

Bucky reaches for the arrangement without a doubt in his mind.

“And who might these be for?” the smirk rests playfully in the florist’s brown eyes before Bucky even notices someone standing right there, watching him. It wasn’t meant to be patronizing, but embarrassment and something naggingly familiar floods his chest. The sudden swell is all too warm and somehow, anxieties of being questioned by an unknown person aside, it’s welcomed.

Almost as if he was a 14-year-old boy again. Almost as if he felt his ma’s voice taunting him while she stood over the stove, stirring his favorite afterschool soup in her dented pot and prodding him about the crush she heard him and Steve giggling about.

“My girl. Uh, well my gir– she…”

Girl? His girl?

Did he really say that out loud?

But that wasn’t what had Bucky’s brain diving headfirst 100 miles per minute into the depths of his chest trying to revive the unrelenting muscle.

No, it wasn’t girl. It was the two-letter guarantor of possession sitting right before it.

My.

What were you? Surely, he was yours– wholly and completely.

But what were you?

Looking at the delicate velvet petals brush against his glove– a lot of things, Bucky realizes.

Sunrise and sunset. Understanding. Fresh air. Relief. The bundle of pale petaled softness tucked safely within his black leather gloves. An angel. His angel– his girl.

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.

“They remind me of my girl. And she’ll love ‘em.” His confidence hardly surprises him– these flowers reek of you. How you lay nestled against him at 3 in the morning under cream sheets with the pale white of the moon dusting the tops of your cheekbones, your hands tracing shapes along the scars of his back. How your eyes crinkle looking right at him and that calming, gentle sound that fills the air as you tell him all about your dreams, your fears, your joys.

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world.

“Must be a pretty special beauty then, huh?”

Bucky could feel the boyish pink flooding his stubbled cheeks, out of his control and entirely too revealing. And for once, his flustered state doesn’t deter him from looking an intrusive stranger in the eye.

Maybe if you were there with him, that blinding light and stunning glow that seemed to follow you and infiltrate every last molecule of the very air he breathed, he’d find his words.

You’d be there, looking up at him while he stumbled through the sludge of muddled thoughts and feelings, gracious fingers stroking soothingly at the nape of his neck as he laid his heart out for you and only you.

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult?

With a quiet sniffle and a shake of his head, Bucky’s tearful smile told the kind stranger all he couldn’t seem to articulate with words.

No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty.

His ma would be out of her mind with emotions– Bucky knows now, looking into the knowing eyes of this stranger. It’s all she ever wanted for him.

The florist only smiles, handing Bucky the perfectly paper-wrapped bundle with a quick “It’s on me, hope she enjoys them.”

His walk home has an extra incentive of speed in his step. The colors of garments people wear blend together in a frantic flurry with the elements of nature around him, everything a blur but the ingrained compass guiding him home– the promise of his girl waiting there for him.

Milling over every possible way he can present these flowers to you, the most pathetic attempt at showing you a fraction of the way you plague his every breath– there’s no right way to hand these to you.

No. Bucky wishes he could piece together his thoughts eloquently enough to offer his love in the way he so desperately wants to. If he could place his words as well as he’s learned to with his emotions…. Maybe, between the distant scribbles of things he quickly jots down as fleeting memories of a distant time, Bucky could find himself writing the words this beauty of his has gifted him.

Feeling.

Bucky’s no poet, not much of a talker, either. But you make him feel things with the clarity of crystal glass.

Delicate, fragile, sparkling things. Maybe, feeling is just enough.

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days.

The gods above only know the tenderness your soul has granted him. The understanding that there’s more to life than pain; finding that self-healing he’s been able to strive towards with your patient encouragement.

Bucky has no more time to think about how he’ll offer these to you. You open the door the second you hear his hurried and frantic stomps bypassing the elevator, rushing the many flights of stairs 4 steps at a time.

“Bucky what’s–”

“I love you,” never have words been so easy, so heavy and at home in his chest. He exhales them so certainly, hoarse and breathless forming so perfectly between the pink plump of his lips. “I’m so in love with you. And I saw these and needed you to have ‘em.”

He never gets the chance to bashfully feel the weight of actions, doesn’t get to admire the love swimming in your eyes, the tears threatening to spill with that gaze you know there’s no controlling when it comes to him– you rush forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that nearly launches his anxious heart straight into the sanctuary of your palms. Breath escapes him for more reasons than one, melting under your honest passion and the need to have him– to love him as he is. His metal arm latches around your waist, pulling you as close as you can get while standing in his small doorway trying to protect a bouquet of flowers from being crushed.

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.

How is it never enough?

Cradling his world between his fist, Bucky tilts your head, his restless lips hungrily breathing in you despite the fact you’re both dizzy, on the verge of collapsing and only still standing because of the other. His gloved-metal thumb swipes away the few tears that have fallen, brushing tender strokes into the high point of your cheek.

Soft moans rumble low in his chest, rising and rising to plead for more– the need to always feel your soft lips move so desperately against his, warm tongues claiming the unbridled desire to never stop– he’ll tell you he loves you with every breath he breathes, or the ones only you could steal from him so sweetly.

When you reluctantly break away his lips move to chase yours, and the red flush staining his flustered love-dazed face is enough to make you cling tighter to the back of his neck, pulling him back down to press kiss after kiss over his shy, boyishly babbling face.

“Bucky… they’re absolutely beautiful, baby.” Oh, he knows. He knows all too well– and the breathless way your voice calls for him, those eyes rendering him the most helpless-in-love man of all time– well. He’s an earnest devotee of this fate.

“You’re the beauty in life, angel.”

💐

[ptergwen]

hi ! i had a dream like this so idk if its too specific or anything hut could u write a fluff/angst about reader being in a beach holiday with family/peter, theyre at the beach swimming and being all cute underwater and stuff- peter tries to hold/grab reader and accidentally hurts them bc of his super strength. theyre mad at him for a bit but they make up that night with heaps of fluff, cuddles, words of affirmation-ect. sorry if thats dumb fhdgdgf thank youuu <33

a boy who's jacked and kind

w/c: tba

warnings: a very sorry and sad peter, like two swears

a/n: peep the sabrina reference hehe i had a lot of fun with this one! decided to make it a beach day with friends, i hope that's okay & you enjoy <3

"marco!"

"polo!"

you and your friends scatter around the ocean while peter tries to catch you. you're at the beach for the day, which is exciting because you don't get to go often living in the city. peter pushes through the water with his eyes closed, hands outstretched in front of him. if he catches one of you, he wins.

"marco!"

peter is getting closer to you and ned. mj is the farthest away, deeper into the ocean. she silently signals for the two of you to swim towards her.

"polo!"

you all shout in unison. ned wades through the water frantically, mj continuing to swim in the opposite direction. you're not as quick to pick up on her guidance. you won't be able to make it to the two of them without peter catching you, so you keep swimming the other way.

"marco!"

"polo!"

ned and mj sound kind of far, but you seem to be close. peter follows your voice with a smirk, eyes still squeezed shut.

"marco!"

you can hear peter getting close from behind you.

"polo!"

you look behind your shoulder to see peter nearing you.

"go, y/n!" mj shouts. "run!" ned echoes.

"marco!"

you can't help but let out a giggle as peter gets closer and closer. you leave the water and start running on the wet sand, your boyfriend right on your trail.

"polo!"

peter tackles you from behind, pushing you down and landing beside you. you squeal and land in the sand, hard. it knocks the wind out of you. peter laughs softly and rolls on top of you.

"i win."

your lip quivers a bit, tears pricking your eyes reflexively from the pain of the fall. peter's cocky demeanor instantly changes, going into concerned boyfriend mode.

"baby, what's wrong?"

he catches a stray tear with his thumb, his lips forming a frown.

"why're you crying?"

peter's thumb caresses your cheek. you shoo his hand away.

"i’m not, that just fuckin' hurt. can you get off me?"

peter rolls off of you, watching you get to your feet with furrowed brows.

"oh no, baby, i'm sorry. i just got caught up in the game... i didn't realize how hard i pushed you."

"you have super strength, peter."

you brush the sand off yourself, sniffing back a mixture of salt water and snot. peter's voice quiets.

"sometimes i forget."

"yeah, i know. it's fine."

"but i feel bad." peter stands up. "are you okay?"

he reaches for your hand. you shrug and pull it away, crossing your arms over your chest.

"i'm fine, pete. just gimme a little while."

mj and ned meet you and peter on the sand. they form a circle with you, peter staying back. his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with worry.

"what happened, you let penis parker win? i thought we had a plan," mj jokes. "yeah, why'd you go rogue? we were supposed to stick together," ned agrees.

"i went the other way 'cause i wasn't gonna get to you guys fast enough, then peter tackled me."

their gazes shift over to peter, who sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

"dude!" ned punches peter's shoulder playfully. "major foul."

"it was an accident," peter mumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

"sure it was," mj deadpans.

peter is looking at you again, but you avoid looking at him. mj picks up on the tension between the two of you.

"hey, you good?"

"i'm kinda annoyed at peter. it hurt when he pushed me. i know he didn't mean to, but still, you know?"

"what a dumbass. come on, let's go get ice creams or something."

you give mj a half smile, throwing an arm around her shoulders. mj flips peter off as you two pass by him. ned starts yapping to peter about building the perfect sandcastle, but he doesn't listen. he's too distracted by his guilt over hurting you.

-

you're sleeping over at peter's later that night. you'd gotten back from the beach a little while ago, and nothing sounds better than cuddling up in bed with him. he had been trying to give you space since the tackling incident, careful not to be too touchy out of fear of hurting you again.

you feel bad for being kind of cold to him. even though you were upset in the moment, you got over it. you miss him being his usual touchy self. it's peter who's been choosing to distance himself.

peter lets you shower first, then he takes one. he finds you waiting on his bed after. you're wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of boxers.

"c'mere, i wanna cuddle."

"you sure?"

"of course. why wouldn't i be?"

"i just wanna make sure you have enough space. y'know, after earlier."

you groan.

"i’m serious, y/n. i hate that i hurt you."

"peter," you stand up.

"and i’m sorry. really, really sorry. i’m never gonna let anything like that happen ever again, okay? i wasn't thinking."

"i know, peter. accident's happen, baby."

your arms circle around peter's shirtless torso. he doesn't trust himself to hold you just yet, so he keeps his arms at his sides.

"just because it was an accident doesn't make it okay."

you take peter's arms yourself and wrap them around you. his doe eyes meet yours. you hold his gaze reassuringly, an arm around his neck and a hand cupping his cheek.

"i like that you have super strength."

"you do?"

"yeah. it makes me feel safe, knowing you can always protect me. plus, you've got big arms. that's hot."

peter chuckles, perking up at that.

"sometimes you can't help how strong you are. i get it, pete. it's not your fault."

you nudge peter's nose with yours. peter moves in closer to you, letting out a sigh of relief. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment.

"thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

you leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"sorry i was kinda mean to you earlier. it was just my first reaction."

"no, no. it's okay, baby. i’m the only one who should be sorry."

"stop apologizing. you don't have to be sorry anymore."

"but i am. i’m still really sorry i-"

you shove at peter's chest, making him fall backwards onto the bed, mimicking the way he tackled you earlier. you straddle his lap and take his face in your hands, giggling. peter carefully holds you on top of him by your sides. you lean forward so you're face to face.

"i forgive you."

you connect yours and peter's lips. he happily kisses you back, smiling into it.

tags (old taglist y'all sorry, gotta make a new form!):

@idkeverythingistakennn @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @mystic-writings @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @elllebutnotwoods @magicalxdaydream @tayyx @parkerdadda @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @peterficrecs @winchestersgirl222 @sunf1ower-vol6 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @marvelgurl @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @sapphic_romanoff @itsjanedeluca @lomlbuckyy @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana

[the-kingshound]

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

[vamptizm]

vi. MISSION JEALOUSY — p.bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis: in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings: angst. explicit language. that’s it i think.

word count: 3.6k

note: this took me soso long i apologize, i’m just not satisfied with this whatsoever. this series will not be revolving around just smut, so obv it’s not going to be in every or every other chapter. idk how long i’ll make it, but most of my chapters are rather short so probably double in the digit chapter count. yeah anyway thank u for being patient and reading this (i loveee comments of any kind so pls don’t hesitate to leave those)

series masterlist

Clover sat across from Vanessa in a quaint little sushi restaurant downtown, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her water glass as she tried—really tried—to focus on the conversation. The dim lighting cast a warm glow across the table, the soft murmur of voices and clinking plates filling the space between them. Vanessa was mid-sentence, her voice light and animated as she recounted a story from work, but Clover wasn't listening.

She couldn't.

Everything about the evening felt... off. The restaurant, the atmosphere, even the date itself.

Vanessa had been the one to suggest this place, raving about it for days until Clover finally agreed to go. It was supposed to be a fun night out, a break from the monotony of campus life and basketball practices. But instead, the girl found herself counting the minutes, waiting for the check to arrive so she could call it a night.

The truth was, she hadn't been feeling it from the start. Not the date. Not Vanessa. 

Vanessa was kind. Sweet. Energetic in a way that most people found contagious. Her laughter was bright, her gestures animated, and her eyes sparkled with sincerity whenever she looked at Clover. She was someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, someone who loved openly and fiercely, someone who deserved the same in return. 

But Clover wasn't that person. 

She wasn't someone who gave her heart away easily. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she had it in her to give it away at all. 

Relationships had never been her thing. The idea of commitment, of letting someone get close enough to see her cracks and flaws, felt like a weight she couldn't bear. Vulnerability wasn't something she handed out freely—it was something she locked away, hidden behind witty remarks and carefree smiles. And still, Vanessa wanted more. 

Something serious. Something Clover couldn't give. 

"...and maybe next weekend we could check out that new art exhibit?" Vanessa's voice pulled her back to the present. She was smiling, hopeful. Her hands rested on the table, fingers curled lightly around her glass. There was a certain softness to her expression, an eagerness that made Clover's chest tighten with dread. 

It was getting too much. 

"Hey, listen," Clover interrupted, her voice quieter than usual, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "We've already talked about this." 

Vanessa's smile faltered, just a little. Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. 

"I told you," Clover continued gently, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, "I'm not ready for anything serious." 

For a moment, Vanessa froze. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, she sat back in her chair, shoulders stiffening slightly as she processed Clover's words. 

"I know," Vanessa finally said, her voice quieter now, too. "But... I thought maybe if we took it slow, you'd change your mind." 

Guilt twisted in Clover's stomach, sharp and unforgiving. She hated this part — the part where things inevitably fell apart, where someone always got hurt. 

"I don't think that's gonna happen," she said softly, regret lacing her words. "You're... you're too good for me, Vanessa. It's not fair to let you act like my girlfriend when we both know it's not gonna happen." 

The words hung heavy in the air. 

Vanessa's face hardened, a flicker of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it. But Clover saw it — she always did. And it only made the guilt worse. 

"You show up to my games with signs," Clover added, her voice quieter now, her gaze dropping to the table. "You wait for me after practice. You plan dates, and you're always so thoughtful... I don't deserve any of that. And you know it." 

"Why wouldn't you deserve it?" 

The question came quickly, sharper than Clover expected. It caught her off guard, and she stilled for a moment, her thoughts scattering. 

Why didn't she deserve it? 

It was a loaded question, one one required an even more loaded and heavier answer.

Because she didn't appreciate it the way she should. Because it never felt like enough to change how she was. Because the butterflies Vanessa so desperately tried to give her never came—not from sweet gestures, not from thoughtful words or sex, not from anything Vanessa did. 

"Because I don't appreciate it," Clover finally said, her voice low, barely audible above the hum of the restaurant. "The way you'd like me to." 

Vanessa blinked, confusion clouding her gaze. 

"It doesn't... it doesn't do anything for me," Clover admitted after taking a deep breath, the confession weighing heavily on her chest. "It's not wooing me. It's not making me feel any butterflies. None of it. And I don't want you to keep hurting yourself trying to make it happen." 

Silence settled over the table like a heavy blanket. 

Vanessa's gaze drifted to the window, her jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. Her hand curled around her napkin, knuckles white. Finally, she nodded—a small, stiff motion that spoke of resignation more than understanding. 

The guilt was unbearable. 

Clover signaled for the check, pulling out her card before Vanessa could argue. She paid quickly, avoiding the waitress's curious gaze, and stood without a word. 

The silence in the car pressed down on Clover like a weight. The rain tapping against the windshield filled the space where words should've been. Vanessa sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window, her expression distant and unreadable. 

Clover clenched the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white. The guilt gnawed at her, twisting in her chest, but not in the way most people would expect. She didn't owe Vanessa anything — not her loyalty, not her heart. She had made that clear from the start. 

Still, something about the way Vanessa sat quietly, radiating disappointment, made the brunette’s stomach churn. 

Vanessa finally broke the silence. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "You're not a bad person." 

Clover exhaled, the lump in her throat tightening. 

"You're kind," Vanessa continued, her gaze still focused on the rain-slicked streets outside. "You're thoughtful. You care more than you want people to think. And I don't know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you're incapable of something real." 

Clover's chest tightened. 

She hated this. Hated that Vanessa saw her as someone capable of giving more than she actually could. Hated that Vanessa saw something in her that wasn't there. Or maybe, she just hated that she couldn't see it too.

The memory of Paige lingered — the weight of her touch still fresh on Clover's skin, the way her hands trembled slightly when they pulled Clover closer, the way their eyes met in that charged, unspoken moment. 

And then the look on Paige's face when Clover left. 

It had mirrored the one Clover wore the first time they'd crossed that boundary. She had been the one left standing there, confused and craving more while Paige walked away without a word. 

Tonight, it had been her who walked out, and she hated that it still hurt. That it felt so wrong.

Vanessa sighed, her tone softer now, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to reassure Clover. "I just... I thought maybe you'd change your mind. That maybe I could be the one to—" 

Clover cut her off before she could finish. 

"You're not the one." 

The words came out harsh, sharper than Clover intended, but she couldn't take them back. The truth was too raw to sugarcoat. 

Vanessa flinched, her lips pressing into a tight line. She nodded slowly, as if piecing everything together, realizing how deeply she had misread the situation. 

"I see." 

Silence returned, heavier than before. 

Clover wanted to tell her that none of this was Vanessa's fault — that she hadn't led her on, that Vanessa deserved someone who wanted to give her what she was looking for. But it would've sounded hollow. Pointless. 

Instead, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her mind unwillingly drifting back to Paige. 

To the way Paige had looked at her, eyes burning with something Clover could never quite name. To the feeling of Paige's lips against hers, desperate and insistent. To the ache in her chest when she walked out of the room, the echo of her own footsteps on the hardwood floor sounding louder than they should've. 

And to the nagging thought in the back of her mind—almost like a whisper from the devil himself—that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't running away from love entirely. She was just running from the wrong person. 

"I had sex with someone else before this," Clover said suddenly, her voice steady but quiet, cutting through the silence like a blade. 

Vanessa blinked, startled by the blunt confession. 

"What?" 

"I had sex with someone else," Clover repeated, this time slower, more deliberate. "Right before this date." 

Vanessa's expression shifted — not to anger, not to betrayal, but to resignation. 

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Vanessa said after a long pause. There was no malice in her tone, just disappointment. "I thought I could be different. That I could make you want... more." 

Clover stared straight ahead, her chest hollow. 

"I told you from the start I wasn't ready for anything serious," she said, her voice steady but distant. "I wasn't lying." 

"I know." Vanessa's voice softened again. "But I hoped." 

And there it was — the difference between them. 

Vanessa was someone who hoped, who believed in love and connection. She thought that if she showed enough kindness, enough patience, she could win Clover over. That she could make her feel the way Vanessa felt about her. 

But Clover had stopped hoping a long time ago. The only person who ever made her feel anything real was Paige. 

And that terrified her more than it should.

Vanessa cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Did it mean anything?" 

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. 

Did sleeping with Paige mean anything? 

Everything. 

"Not in the way you think," Clover lied, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Vanessa nodded again, her gaze dropping to her lap. "Right." 

The rest of the drive was silent, tension crackling between them like a live wire. 

When Clover finally pulled up in front of Vanessa's apartment, neither of them moved right away. Vanessa fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, and Clover kept her hands on the wheel, staring at the rain streaking the windshield. 

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Vanessa said softly, breaking the silence. 

Clover didn't answer. 

Vanessa gave her one last glance before stepping out of the car and disappearing into the building without looking back. 

As the door clicked shut, Clover let out a shaky breath. The weight of the evening bore down on her, but it wasn't Vanessa's disappointment that crushed her. 

It was the way Paige's name lingered on her mind like a brand, burning and inescapable. No matter how far she ran, no matter how many distractions she sought, Paige was always there. 

The way the blonde's gaze lingered a little too long during practice. The way her usually teasing and taunting voice softened when she checked in on Clover after a particularly rough game. The way her presence filled every empty corner of Clover's mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

Because Paige had never just been a fleeting crush or a temporary obsession. 

It wasn't just admiration. It wasn't just complicated friendship. She had always been something more. 

It had been something more for a long time.

The apartment was quiet when Clover walked in, save for the soft clatter of a knife against what she assumed was a cutting board. She barely glanced at the kitchen, her mind clouded with exhaustion, her heart heavy with that same guilt. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and shut out the world.

But of course Paige was still up.

Clover cursed under her breath as she slipped off her shoes, hoping to make it to her room without incident. She knew how Paige operated. Knew the games she liked to play. And Clover wasn't in the mood for another round of it tonight.

"Late night?" Paige's voice cut through the silence, sharp and calculated.

Clover stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking. She set her bag down by the door, straightened, and took a slow breath before turning around. Paige was at the counter, slicing through an apple with a steady hand.

"Something like that," Clover said, keeping her tone flat.

Paige didn't look up. "Thought you'd be back later. Guess the date wasn't that great, huh?"

There it was. The edge in Paige's voice. That barely veiled disdain, like she was trying to poke holes into Clover's night without outright saying what she really felt.

Clover ran a hand through her straightened hair, none of her natural curls in sight. "It was fine."

"Fine." Paige repeated the word with a smirk, like it was a joke only she understood. She tossed a slice of apple into her mouth, chewed slowly. "Guess that's not exactly life-changing."

Clover's patience was already wearing thin. "Why do you care?"

Paige shrugged, finally meeting Clover's gaze. Her blue eyes were cool, assessing. "I don't."

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on Clover's chest. She could feel the unspoken tension between them, like a storm waiting to break. She shifted her weight, debating whether to walk away — but Paige wasn't done.

"You're wasting your time, you know," Paige said quietly, her voice softening. It wasn't a taunt this time. It sounded almost like a warning.

The brunette frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Paige set the knife down, her hands resting on the counter. "These girls you fuck around with. They're not going to give you what you want."

Clover's chest tightened, brow raised in an almost challenging manner "And what exactly do you think I want?"

Paige tilted her head, her gaze never wavering. "Someone who makes you feel the way I do."

The air between them went still, heavy with meaning. Clover froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse quickened, a mix of irritation and something else—something she didn't have the guts to name—coursing through her veins.

"That's overly cocky, even for you," She responded, her voice steady but strained.

Paige's lips curved into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe. But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Clover's hands curled into fists at her sides. She hated how easily Paige got under her skin. How she always knew exactly what to say to make Clover doubt herself.

"God, you just say the dumbest shit sometimes." Clover muttered, turning toward her room.

"You're scared 'cause I'm right, Amar," Paige called after her.

Clover stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her ears, a feeling of unexplainable dread and frustration clawing at her chest.

Paige's voice softened, almost teasing. "Went straight from my bed to her arms. You always like to rebound, don’t you?"

Clover spun around, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" the blonde questioned, feigning innocence.

"Make it sound like it meant something to you," Clover near to snapped. "Because it didn't. You made that clear the first time."

Paige's smirk faltered for the first time. Her gaze dropped for a moment before meeting Clover's again. "And yet, it keeps happening."

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable in a way Paige probably hadn't intended or planned.

Clover swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. "Yeah, 'cause we're both too fucked up to stop."

Paige's expression shifted—something between hurt and frustration flickering across her own face now. "Is that what you think?"

"What else is there to think?" Clover shrugged lazily. "We don’t do that healthy shit. That's how it's always been."

Paige pushed away from the counter, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. Her gaze never wavered, her expression unreadable.

"You keep saying that like it's a rule we mutually agreed on," Paige spoke quietly. "Like it's some fucked up contract we both signed."

Clover's back hit the wall. Paige was standing too close now, the scent of Clover's sweet vanilla perfume lingering in the air between them.

"Isn't it?" Clover whispered, her voice unsteady.

Paige's hand brushed a strand of hair away from the brunette’s face, a light, almost instinctive touch. But it sent a cold shiver down Clover's spine.

"Don't remember signing anything," Paige murmured.

Clover's heart was pounding, her mind racing. She hated this—hated how Paige made her feel out of control. Vulnerable. Exposed.

"You don't know what you want," Clover said, her voice deliberately bland and cold, despite the emotional chaos brewing inside of her.

Paige's hand lingered, her finger tucking the piece of hair behind Clover's ear. "Neither do you."

For a moment, Clover couldn't breathe. The tension between them was suffocating, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on her.

"You think this is a game," Clover said, her voice barely audible now. "But it's not."

Paige's hand dropped away, and for a second, Clover saw something crack in her expression—a glimpse of vulnerability before the mask slipped back into place.

"It's not a game to me," Paige said softly.

Clover blinked, stunned into silence, though she didn't let it show.

But before she could say anything, Paige stepped back, the distance between them suddenly unbearable.

"Get some sleep," Paige said, her voice quieter now, almost gentle. "Gotta be up early for practice tomorrow."

Clover didn't respond. She watched as Paige turned away, heading back to the kitchen to finish her snack, leaving Clover standing there, harshly biting down on her tongue and heart aching with everything they couldn't say.

The sound of Clover's door closing echoed through the apartment, cutting through the thick silence like a blade. Paige stood frozen in the kitchen, staring blankly at the half-sliced apple on the cutting board. Her appetite was gone.

Her hands trembled slightly as she set the knife down, pressing her palms against the counter to steady herself.

'What the hell is wrong with me?'

Paige exhaled sharply, pushing herself upright. She rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers brushing over the faint mark Clover had left there earlier — a kiss, a bite, she wasn't sure which. It didn't matter. It wasn't supposed to matter.

This wasn't supposed to feel like this.

It was supposed to be easy. Fun. No strings, no feelings, no mess. That's how it worked. Clover hooked up with whoever caught her eye, Paige did the same. They'd judge each other, throw around meaningless jabs and at the end of the day they'd be fine. Back to being a team.

So why did it feel like her chest was caving in every time Clover walked away and into the arms of someone else?

Paige clenched her jaw, trying to swallow the frustration rising in her throat. She hated this. Hated feeling out of control. Hated how Clover had walked out on her earlier without a second glance — just like Paige had done with others so many times.

'Is this what it feels like?' she wondered bitterly. ‘To be the one left behind?’

She'd told herself it didn't matter. That Clover going on a date with someone else was none of her business. That it wasn't jealousy, just curiosity. But the sting in her chest said otherwise.

Because deep down, Paige knew the truth.

No one made her feel the way Clover did.

And that terrified her more than it should.

She grabbed the cutting board and shoved it into the sink with more force than necessary, the sound of it clattering against the metal louder than she intended. She winced, glancing toward Nika and Jana's rooms. No lights turned on. No doors opened.

The last thing she needed was a groggy Nika asking her why she was slamming things around at midnight.

Paige turned off the kitchen light and leaned against the counter in the dark, the faint glow from the streetlights outside casting shadows across the room. She could still hear Clover's words in her head, clear as day:

‘Because we're both too fucked up to stop.’

Paige ran a hand over her face, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

She'd spent so long pretending she didn't care. Playing it cool, keeping her distance, convincing herself that what they had was just physical. But it wasn't. Not anymore.

And Paige wasn't ready to admit it.

She thought back to the way Clover had looked tonight — tired, defeated, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Paige had wanted to say something real, to cut through the bullshit and tell her whatever truth there was.

But that truth was messy. Vulnerable. And Paige wasn't good at that.

Instead, she'd resorted to what she knew best: cocky remarks and passive-aggressive digs. It was easier to act like none of it mattered. To pretend that Clover's wandering eyes and restless heart didn't bother her.

But as hypocritical as it was, it did.

And that scared her more than anything.

Paige glanced toward Clover's room, her heart aching in a way she didn't quite understand. She thought about knocking on her door, saying something — anything — to break the silence between them.

But what would she even say?

‘I care about you. More than I want to. More than I should. And it's killing me.’

No. That wasn't her.

Paige pushed off the counter and headed to her own room, her footsteps quiet against the hardwood floor. She paused outside Clover's door for a moment, her hand hovering in the air like she might knock after all.

But she didn't.

Instead, she whispered into the silence: "Good night, Clover."

And with that, she walked away, closing her own door behind her.

taglist (open) @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @starlighttsv @ekisokay @st4rrzynight @ohmybueckers @pbbucks

[chuuwey]

Your Apartment

Genere: fluff

theme: neighbors to lovers

parings: Jisung x shy fem reader , best friend Renjun x fem reader

warnings: none

authors note: this was requested, i hope you enjoy :D

You had always been the quiet one, blending into the background of your city apartment building. But you had a secret—you’d been having the biggest crush on your neighbor, Jisung, since the moment you first saw him. He had so much going on: charming, easygoing, and always quick with a laugh. Every time you ran into each other in the elevator or the laundry room, you’d freeze up, heart pounding, unable to get past a simple “hi.”

Your best friend Renjun, on the other hand, was your polar opposite—outgoing, a little dramatic, and never afraid to stir things up. When you finally broke down and told him about her massive crush on Jisung over coffee, Renjun practically choked on his drink.

“You mean Jisung from 12B? The tall, goofy one with the cute smile? You’ve been holding this in the whole time?!”

You nodded, cheeks flaming. “What was I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I’ve been awkwardly pining for you for months’?”

Renjun rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “No, but you’re not going to sit here and do nothing. You’ve got to make a move. Bake him cookies, write a note, I don’t care—just do something!”

That’s how you found yourself standing in the lobby a few days later, holding a plate of still-warm cookies and silently praying you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. Just as you were about to bail, the elevator doors opened, and there he was. Jisung, with his signature smile and messy hair, stepping out like it was a scene from a rom-com.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” he greeted you casually, not knowing that your heart was in full meltdown mode.

“H-Hi! I, uh…” you shoved the plate toward him. “I made these for you. I mean, not for you—okay, kind of for you. I just thought you might like them.”

Jisung blinked, clearly surprised, before his face broke into the warmest smile you’d ever seen. “Wow, thanks! That’s so nice of you. These look amazing.”

He stayed and chatted with you right there in the lobby, asking about your day and cracking a few jokes that made you laugh so hard you forgot how nervous you’d been. For the first time, it felt easy, like you weren’t just two neighbors exchanging polite hellos.

Over the next few weeks, things shifted. Jisung started texting you little things like, “Thanks again for the cookies, they were so good! ” or “Hey, want to grab coffee later?” And just like that, you went from awkward elevator greetings to spending time together.

One night, you both ended up on the rooftop of your building, looking out at the city lights. You could feel your pulse racing as you debated whether to say something. Renjun’s words echoed in your head: *“You’ve got to make a move.”*

So you did.

“Jisung,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. Like… a lot. You’re kind, funny, and you make me feel like I can actually be myself. I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to tell you.”

For a second, you thought you had messed up. Jisung just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, he smiled, soft and sincere and said, “You’re kidding, right? Y/N, I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever. You’re amazing.”

From that moment on, things just clicked. You started spending more time together, whether it was exploring the city, binge-watching you’re favorite shows, or just hanging out in the lobby where it all began. Jisung made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had, and you finally let go of the shyness that had held you back for so long.

And Renjun? He never let you forget he was the one who pushed you to make a move. “I expect a toast at your wedding,” he teased one day.

You just laughed, knowing that, somehow, everything had fallen into place.

[angel-dustspo]

Hi there! I recently came across your blog and was truly inspired with your dedication to making the best version of yourself so I decided to make my own daily log too!

I've only done it for 2 days so far but I was wondering...what do you do instead of going on your phone😭? Rn it's holidays for me so my screen time has been really bad and I'm looking for ways to improve it. 🙏

Hiii, thank you so so so much for your kind words, they mean so much to me!!! I'm so glad I was able to inspire you and make you wish to become better everyday, that's the whole point of my blog and I'm so glad I get to help people through it!!

I always say in my posts that my screen time isn't high, but by screen time I only mean how much time I spend on social media. Scrolling is out of the question and I don't do that at all anymore, so it's just chatting what I log on here. But that's not all, because my screen time is high every day too. I use my phone for so many more reasons, and I also end up spending most of my free time on it, it's just that I don't use it for scrolling or wasting my time (mostly, not always). I post on here, I do my school work or research, I watch a movie or a youtube video and all sorts of things like that, and the screen time could add up to 5-7 hours on a school day and like 10 on holidays. Nobody has it all figured out, so please don't pressure yourself into completely not using your phone because it's not going to end well.

To be honest, I don't even know what I do besides using my phone hahah. My main hobby is my blog and that takes a lot of my time usually, but I also do my Duolingo and watch inspiring videos and anything like that, so I'm probably always using it (for doing something productive or helpful).

When I don't use my phone, I mostly do school work bcs I'm in my final year and I have to study a lot for my exams. My favourite hobby is reading, and when I don't have homework to do I can read up to 200 pages a day (like 3-4 hours), but I also love listening to music, painting, playing video games (which I actually do everyday haha), baking and cooking. I also spend a lot of my time doing sport and walking and just that alone can take me multiple hours of a day.

Other ideas are journaling or scrapbooking, cleaning your room, redecorating, writing posts on here, learning an instrument/a language, researching, learning how to crochet, going shopping or thrifting, picking up a type of exercise classes or a sport, hanging out with friends, and again learning how to cook for yourself is such a game changer and everybody should practice that.

I hope you got some new ideas about spending your time now and that I was able to help you! Good luck on your self improvement journey, I know you got this and I'm so extremely proud of you!!!! <333

[chronically-ghosted]

Despite 2024, we still made it to 2025! Now let's celebrate that accomplishment!

Thank you to everyone who submitted to celebrate this fandom and the wonderful people in it! Fandom is about community, and we are nothing without it. I got the warm and fuzzies reading through all the lovely submissions so I hope you feel it too! Happy New Year!

🥶 nominate a person who made the year extra special

🌟 @cavillscurls nominated @kiwisbell 🌟

and my shoutout goes to the very special @kiwisbell. not only is she the most trusted beta, kindest friend, and brilliant writer, but most recently (and excitingly) the greatest collaborator and writing partner. meeting her—and meeting her in PERSON this summer—remain the highlights of my year. i’m not going to go into my dissertation on the importance and special nature of internet friendships, but just know that the light, creativity, and openness she brings to this fandom and to my life are things i will never take for granted. i am certain our next year will be better because she’s in it! I LOVE YOU.

(this is the attached photo and i HAD to include it 😭)

🌟 @bitchesuntitled nominated @beefrobeefcal 🌟

Hooooly shit. What can I say about Kiki that I haven’t already told her?! She is an amazing human being and I aspire to be like her. She is so kind even when others are not so nice. She’s one of the most creative people I know and I absolutely love when we get on a tangent in ALL CAPS ABOUT AN IDEA. She is so willing to help anyone and everyone- whether it’s a fic or a moodboard or you’re just feeling down in the dumps about something! I think she is one of the best people in this fandom and I am so glad to have her in my life ❤️ Also just a bit of a personal story to show the kind of person she is, when I was first getting sober I was worried about how I would handle July 4th because as an American it’s a very ‘Merica fuck yeah! Let’s drink! holiday and she checked in on me multiple times during the day and let me just ramble to her about different things so that I wouldn’t be tempted to drink 🥰❤️🥰❤️ So yeah, she’s a good egg.

🌟 @sixhours nominated @bumblepony 🌟

Hello m'dear, I have an entry for your end-of-year celebration. 🥶 I wanted to give a shout-out to @bumblepony who, in addition to being a talented and prolific fic writer, has commissioned sooooooo many artworks for other TLOU fanfic writers this year (myself included). She's a gem, and this fandom is so fortunate to have her. 🥰

🌟 @bluestar22x nominated @trulybetty and @morallyinept 🌟

Can't narrow down my pick for this to one, so @trulybetty and @morallyinept are both getting nominated. Both have been so kind and supportive of me and both are super talented writers. Thank you both for your kind words and sharing your wonderful fics.

🌟 @i-love-movies nominated @thegreenkid2 🌟

I nominate @thegreenkid2 with whom I had so many lovely chats about Pedro and movies in general sometimes for hours and very late into the night. I really enjoy geeking out together over so many different things.

🌟 @sp00kymulderr nominated @dieterbravobrainrotclub 🌟

Every member of the brainrot club, for being feral and silly and fun and thoughtful and insightful in so many ways. For making my year extra special. For making so many fun memories, and helping to lighten the mood. For your dedication to the man that is Dieter Bravo.

☃️ your favorite line of fic that you wrote this year

🌟 @bluestar22x - The Outcast

Favorite line: Guiding you into your future, like you had guided him home.

Fic: The Outcast

What makes it special to you: It's hard to pick one line from a fanfic I wrote this year, but I do love this line that ends my story "The Outcast". It's the first favorite line I thought of because it's simple and calls back to how it began. The fic is very themed around finding/discovering what you need with the help of another person.

🌟 @bitchesuntitled - Xerox

Favorite line: Jamie lets out a pathetic, “Oh d-d-dear,” sounding almost identical to Piglet from Winnie the Pooh, and audibly gulps while furiously nodding his head.

Fic: Xerox

What makes it special to you: I knew from the moment I started writing this story that I wanted Xerox!Pedro to be this inexperienced bumbling idiot and thinking about him stuttering out an “Oh dear” like Piglet cracked me up so much 🤣 It still makes me laugh whenever I see it/think about it

🌨️ your favorite memory from fandom this year

🌟 @sp00kymulderr had a favorite memory with @chronically-ghosted

We created the Dieter Bravo Brainrot Club in January 2024 and it has been easily my favourite place to hangout this year. I'm so glad that it exists, and I want to shout out: YOU, Taylor. The Dieter brainrot would not even exist without you. I love how we have spent so much time together this year spiralling over That Man. I love that I got to read so many of your wonderful fics about him, and scream about him with you. I love that we created a space together for others who feel the same way. I love being your friend.

🌟 @i-love-movies had a favorite memory with @miss-mandalorian

This fandom gave me a lovely friendship with @miss-mandalorian which I cherish very much even though a big ass ocean lies between us and we have yet to meet IRL. She just recently set me the most lovely gift. 💖

🌲 your favorite piece of media you made for fandom this year

🌟 @i-love-movies is super proud of:

Gladiator 2 South Park! Pedros

"I made this set of Gladiator 2 South Park! Pedros. I haven't posted a lot of South Park! Pedro this year cause I didn't feel very creative. This one sparked some of my creativity again."

[amethystarachnid]

A PLACE TO STAY - part II

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.6k

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Summary: one Olivia is officially your daughter it's time to show her what having a family means

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues, reader discovers she's pregnant

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The days since you and Steve had decided to adopt Olivia have been filled with a blend of excitement, nerves, and a deep sense of certainty. It feels like the right thing to do. Every time you picture Olivia’s face—her bright smile, the way she clings to you for comfort, the way her tiny hands grasp your fingers with unspoken trust—your heart swells with love. The idea of offering her a stable, loving home is overwhelming, but you both know it’s what she deserves.

Today, after all the conversations and emotions that have led up to this moment, you and Steve are about to head back to the orphanage. It feels different this time. You’re not just there to spend time with Olivia. This visit is about making things official, about taking the first steps toward a new future—for all of you.

The crisp air of Brooklyn greets you as you and Steve step out of your apartment, bundled up against the cold but still feeling the warmth of each other’s presence. Every step toward the orphanage feels like it matters. Today, you’re not just visiting a child. You’re talking to the headmistress about adopting Olivia.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the familiar sight of the building brings both comfort and nerves. It’s strange to think that not too long ago, this place was just where you met Olivia for the first time. Now, it’s a place where your future with her is about to take root.

The moment you step through the doors, the warmth of the building surrounds you. Children’s laughter and chatter echo in the hallway, but your attention is on the headmistress’s office. You know that Olivia is probably somewhere in the building, playing or perhaps getting ready for her afternoon snack, but today isn’t just about her. It’s about speaking to the headmistress and moving forward with the plans to make Olivia officially part of your family.

You exchange a glance with Steve as you approach the office. His face is soft, yet resolute, the same warmth you’ve come to know in his every expression.

“She’s going to be so happy,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with the same tenderness that’s always there when he talks about Olivia.

“I hope so,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I know we’ve talked about it, but… asking her feels like a big moment.”

“I think she already knows, Y/n,” Steve responds, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “She already looks at us like we’re family.”

With that, the two of you push open the office door and enter, greeted by the headmistress, who stands up as soon as she sees you. Her kind face radiates warmth, her smile deep and genuine. She’s always been welcoming, and today, that feeling is even more palpable as she takes in your presence.

“Y/n, Steve,” she says, her voice full of kindness, “it’s so good to see you both. I’m glad you could make it today.”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” you say, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “We wanted to talk about something important regarding Olivia.”

The headmistress nods knowingly, a slight glint of understanding in her eyes. “I can only imagine what this is about,” she says gently, sitting back down at her desk. “You’ve both been wonderful with her. It’s clear she’s formed a strong bond with you.”

You glance at Steve, and he squeezes your hand as if to reassure you that this moment, this conversation, is one you’ve both been ready for.

“We’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia’s future,” Steve begins. “And we want to make sure that if we’re moving forward with adoption, we’re doing it with her best interests in mind.”

The headmistress nods, her gaze soft but wise. “Of course. We always want what’s best for the children here. Olivia is a wonderful little girl, and I’ve seen her grow so much since you two started visiting her. You’ve brought a light into her life that wasn’t there before. She deserves all the love she’s getting.”

You smile, a mixture of relief and emotion filling your chest at her words. “We want to give her that love permanently,” you say, voice steady but your heart beating faster as you realize the magnitude of what you’re saying. “We want to ask her if she wants us to be her parents.”

The headmistress looks at both of you, a warmth in her gaze that only deepens. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Olivia has always been a shy, cautious little girl, but over the past few weeks, I’ve seen how much she’s come out of her shell around both of you. She’s more confident, more trusting. She’ll understand the question more than you might think.”

Steve nods, though there’s a trace of doubt in his eyes. “We just… want to make sure she’s really ready for this. Before we go through any legal processes, we want to be sure that it’s something she wants, too.”

“You’re being very thoughtful,” the headmistress says. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. But it’s important that she feels like she’s part of the decision. The transition won’t be easy, but I can see how much she’s come to rely on you both. She looks up to you so much.”

There’s a slight pause, and then the headmistress leans back in her chair, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I can’t think of a better family for her, if I’m being honest. And I know she’ll be happy with you. But asking her is the right way to go.”

The words feel like a confirmation, as if this is the final piece falling into place. It gives you the confidence you need to move forward.

You take a deep breath, and then glance at Steve, who nods again. You both stand together, ready to ask Olivia the question that will change all of your lives.

“We’re going to ask her now,” you say, your voice steady. “Thank you for your support.”

The headmistress smiles warmly. “Take your time. I’m sure it’ll go wonderfully.”

You and Steve exit the office, your hearts racing in unison as you head toward the room where the children are gathered. As you approach, you spot Olivia near the corner, sitting with a few other kids and playing with a set of building blocks. Her little hands are busy, but the moment she sees you, her face lights up.

“Y/n! Steve!” she calls, pushing herself up from the floor and rushing over to you both. The others around her giggle, some calling her name playfully, but it’s clear Olivia only has eyes for you.

You kneel down as she reaches you, and she practically throws herself into your arms. The weight of her small body in your arms feels natural now, like she belongs there.

“Hi, sweetie,” you greet her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “How’s your day been?”

“Good!” Olivia exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I make tower!” She holds up a small block, showing off the tiny structure she’s built. “Look!”

“That’s amazing,” Steve says with a smile, bending down to admire the little creation. He’s always so gentle with her, always so patient. You can see the love he has for her written clearly on his face.

But today is different. Today, you’re here to ask her something that will change everything.

“Olivia,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and care, “we need to talk to you about something important.”

She tilts her head, her brow furrowing slightly as she looks between you and Steve, her small hands still clutching the block in front of her.

“Do you remember when we talked about going home with us? About being a family?” you ask gently, making sure she’s following along.

Olivia’s eyes widen, and she nods enthusiastically. “Home!” she exclaims, her small hands clasping together. “Go home with you!”

You smile at her eagerness, your heart swelling. “We’ve been thinking a lot about that,” you continue, “and we wanted to ask you something. We want to know if you’d like us to be your mommy and daddy. If you want us to be your family. Forever.”

Her eyes search yours, blinking a few times as she processes the words. It’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder if she truly understands the weight of the question. But then, after a beat of silence, she lets out a little gasp.

“Yes!” she says, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Yes, yes, yes!”

You can hardly believe it. The joy in her voice is undeniable, and her little arms reach up toward you as if to prove it. You pull her into your arms, laughing with tears in your eyes.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You really want us to be your parents?”

Olivia nods so enthusiastically it almost makes her dizzy. “Yes!” she says again, her tiny voice filled with joy. “Mommy, Daddy. Yes!”

You and Steve exchange a look of pure joy and disbelief. It’s as though everything has fallen into place—this little girl, who had been so cautious at first, now completely trusts you both to be her parents.

“Then it’s settled,” you say, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “We’re going to be a family.”

Steve smiles, his eyes glistening with tears of his own as he hugs Olivia tightly, pulling you into the embrace. The three of you hold each other, the weight of what you’ve just agreed on sinking in. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

And in that moment, you know that Olivia has found her home. And you’ve found the family you were always meant to have.

The days after Olivia’s joyous acceptance of the adoption felt surreal. Everything was changing, but it was a change that you had longed for. It was a change that filled you with a sense of purpose and a warmth that made every moment feel even more meaningful than the last.

As you and Steve sat down to discuss the legal steps of adoption, you knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy or quick process. The legalities of adopting a child, especially from a system as large and complicated as the one Olivia had come from, would take time. A lot of time. It would require patience, paperwork, and plenty of legal representation. And while you were confident that everything would work out in the end, there was one thing that remained a little daunting: the financial side of it all.

But neither you nor Steve gave much thought to the cost. You both knew that money would come and go, but this—Olivia—was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was your future. The legalities, the bureaucracy, the long wait—none of that mattered when you had the love and commitment that you and Steve shared.

“We’re going to do this,” Steve said one evening as you sat at the kitchen table, papers strewn across it. “No matter how long it takes. No matter how much it costs. Olivia deserves this.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The stack of forms was daunting, but it didn’t faze you. “We’re ready,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’ll get through it together.”

It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t fast. There were meetings with lawyers, phone calls with social workers, and stacks of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the day. It was overwhelming at times, but every step felt like it was bringing you closer to Olivia. Every time you signed a form or spoke with someone about the process, you felt more certain that this was the right thing to do.

In the midst of the whirlwind of legal meetings and paperwork, there was something else that kept you both busy—transforming your apartment to prepare for Olivia’s arrival. You’d always loved your space, but now that the thought of being a family was a reality, it felt more important than ever to make sure everything was perfect for her. Your apartment in Brooklyn had been cozy and inviting, but there was one room that remained a little underused—the spare room. It had always been a place for storage or an extra guest room, but now, it was about to become something far more important.

This room would be Olivia’s.

“Alright,” Steve said one Saturday morning as you stood in the doorway of the spare room, surveying the space. “We need to make it perfect for her. What do you think?”

You looked around at the room, which was still filled with old furniture and boxes that hadn’t been unpacked from when you first moved in. It felt like it had so much potential—like it was waiting to be something special. And now, with Olivia’s future in mind, it felt like the perfect canvas.

“I think it needs to be… pink,” you said, your voice full of certainty. “It’s her favorite color.”

Steve’s lips curled into a smile as he looked at you. “Pink, huh? I’m not sure I’m ready for a pink overload, but if it’s what she wants…”

“It’s not just what she wants,” you replied, your tone soft and affectionate. “It’s what she deserves. She deserves a room that’s all hers, a place that feels like home. A place where she can feel safe, loved, and special.”

Steve’s smile softened, and he nodded. “Alright. Pink it is. But we’ll need some other colors to balance it out. Maybe some white and cream? Light wood accents?”

You nodded, already mentally planning the color scheme. “Yes, exactly. Light and airy, but still warm and cozy. We can put a little white dresser with pink accents, and maybe a cream-colored rug. And for the walls—maybe a soft pastel pink with some fun, subtle wallpaper that has little hearts or stars?”

“That sounds perfect,” Steve agreed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I love the idea of making it feel like her own little world.”

You both spent the next few weeks going to stores, picking out paint samples, furniture, and little decorations. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences you’d had together. Every decision felt meaningful—the color of the walls, the design of the bedspread, the little stuffed animals that would sit on the shelves. Each little detail seemed to add up to something bigger than you could have ever imagined. This was no longer just a room. It was Olivia’s room, and you were making it a place where she would feel nothing but love.

One Saturday, you and Steve got to work. You started by painting the walls a soft, pastel pink, the color already feeling like it belonged. You laughed as Steve struggled to find the right angle to reach the top of the walls, his tall frame a bit too much for the small space. You stood on a ladder, rolling paint on the lower parts of the wall, exchanging playful comments as you both worked together to create a room that would feel like home for Olivia.

“You know,” Steve said between strokes of the roller, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this excited about painting a room. But this… this feels different. This feels important.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “It is different. This is her space, Steve. She’s going to have a place to call her own, a place where she’s safe and loved. And that’s everything.”

As the paint dried, you and Steve began to assemble the furniture—an adorable white bedframe with a matching dresser, soft pastel-colored bedding with little floral patterns. You hung up shelves, arranging stuffed animals and toys that you’d bought for Olivia over the past few weeks. There was a small rocking chair near the window, perfect for reading bedtime stories, and a pink area rug in the middle of the room that felt so soft underfoot.

Steve was putting together the final pieces when you stood in the doorway, admiring the room. It felt perfect—so inviting and full of love, a space where Olivia would flourish.

“We’ve really done it,” you said softly, your voice filled with awe.

Steve walked over to you, his hand resting gently on your back. He gazed at the room with you, his eyes soft. “She’s going to love it.”

“She already does,” you replied, your heart swelling. “We’re giving her everything she needs. She’s going to have a real home.”

Later that evening, after Olivia had returned from the orphanage, the two of you brought her to the room, her little hands grasping yours as you led her inside. Her eyes widened in shock and wonder as she stepped into the transformed space.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking in the pink walls, the soft bedding, the shelves filled with toys. She ran her hands over the bedspread, a smile spreading across her face. “Mine?”

“It’s all yours,” you said gently, kneeling down to her level. “This is your room, Olivia. You can play here, sleep here, and just be yourself.”

Her face lit up with joy, her small hands reaching out to touch everything in the room. “Pink! I love pink!” she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.

Steve crouched down beside her, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you love it, sweetheart. We made it just for you.”

Olivia beamed at both of you, her little arms reaching up to wrap around your neck as she hugged you tightly. “I love it. Thank you, Mommy. Thank you, Daddy.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and your heart swelled with an emotion you couldn’t describe. This was real. This was happening. You were building a life with Olivia—a family. And every moment, every decision, every laugh, every hug made it feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.

As Olivia giggled and bounced on her new bed, you and Steve exchanged a look. There was so much left to do—so much more to give her—but in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of everything. This room, this life, this love. It was all for her.

And together, you and Steve were ready to give her the family she had always deserved.

The months since Olivia had become an official part of your life had been a whirlwind. What started as visits to the orphanage, cautious steps toward adoption, and days of transforming a room into a bright, pink sanctuary for her, had led to this moment. The paperwork was finally done, the court hearings had been completed, and after months of waiting and hoping, Olivia was now your daughter—legally, forever.

The day you got the final confirmation that the adoption had been approved was a blur of emotions. You and Steve sat together in your apartment, holding each other as you stared at the email, the news still sinking in. A few months ago, you couldn’t have imagined that this day would come so soon. The future that had once seemed uncertain now felt like a reality—a family forged in love, patience, and care.

“Olivia is our daughter,” Steve whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held the phone up to show you the confirmation. “She’s ours.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “She’s really ours, Steve. After everything, it’s real.”

Now, it was time to bring her home—truly home. No more visits. No more goodbyes. Olivia, the little girl who had captured your heart with her smile and cautious trust, was about to become a permanent part of your family.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when you and Steve drove to the orphanage to pick up Olivia. The sun was shining, the city bustling around you, but none of that mattered. Your heart was focused on the little girl waiting for you. Olivia had already been told by the headmistress that today was the day, and when you walked into the orphanage to find her, she was already bouncing with excitement.

Her eyes lit up when she saw you both standing in the doorway. She didn’t hesitate for a moment, her little legs propelling her forward as she ran into your arms.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around you both in a tight embrace. The feeling of her small body pressing against you was something you never got used to—it was the feeling of home, the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said, hugging her close, feeling the joy bubble up inside you. “Are you ready to come home with us?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. “Home! Forever?”

You looked over at Steve, your heart full. “Yes, sweetheart. Forever.”

As you made your way out of the orphanage and into the car, the world outside felt different. There was a sense of finality, but also excitement. You could almost feel the air shift, as if everything had aligned just right for the three of you. This was the moment you had been waiting for—the day when Olivia would finally get to experience what it was like to have a real home, a safe space with two parents who loved her beyond measure.

The ride to your apartment felt like it took forever. Olivia chattered excitedly in the backseat, her tiny voice full of enthusiasm as she looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Is it big? My room? My bed? My toys?” she asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

“Your room is waiting for you,” Steve answered, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s just as you left it—pink and perfect, just the way you like it.”

You smiled at her, your heart swelling. “And we’ve got lots of toys and books for you to enjoy. We can play together, every day.”

By the time you arrived at the apartment, Olivia’s excitement had reached its peak. As soon as you parked the car, she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, eager to get out. You both helped her out of the car, holding her hands as you walked into the building and up the stairs to your apartment.

When you opened the door, Olivia stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, her eyes scanning the familiar space. It was no longer just a place she had visited—this was her home now, every corner filled with love and warmth. She walked inside slowly, her little steps careful, as if she were waiting for something to change.

“Do you want to see your room?” you asked gently, crouching down to her level, making sure to give her the space she needed.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. “Yes!”

You took her hand and led her down the hallway toward the room that had been waiting for her all this time. The door creaked open, and Olivia gasped, her tiny face lighting up as she took in the sight of her room—her very own room. The walls were painted a soft pink, the bed covered with a fluffy duvet, and the shelves lined with toys, stuffed animals, and books. The soft cream rug beneath her feet added to the warmth of the room, and it felt like a true sanctuary.

Olivia’s small hands touched the bedspread, the pink fabric soft under her fingers. “My bed… it’s so soft,” she whispered, sitting down gently, her eyes wide with awe. She ran her hands over the sheets, a sense of wonder filling her voice. “This is mine?”

“It’s all yours,” Steve said softly, his voice full of pride. “And it’s where you’ll sleep every night, sweetie.”

Olivia beamed, her little face glowing with happiness. “I love it,” she said, her voice quiet, as if taking in the gravity of the moment.

You sat next to her on the bed, wrapping your arms around her. “We love you, Olivia. This is your home now, and we’ll always take care of you.”

Over the next few days, Olivia slowly settled into the rhythms of her new life. At first, everything was new and a little overwhelming for her. She had never had two parents who looked after her constantly, never had a place where she could leave her things out without worry, and never had the security of knowing that no one was going to take it all away.

There were moments when she seemed uncertain, moments when she clung to you a little tighter than usual, but as time passed, she began to relax into the comfort of her new home. She knew she was safe here. She knew that Steve and you would always be there for her.

You and Steve took turns comforting her when she woke up in the middle of the night, crying softly for reasons she couldn’t always express. It wasn’t always easy, but you both understood that this was part of the process. Olivia was learning to trust that she would never be abandoned again.

“I’m here, sweetie,” you whispered one night as Olivia curled into your arms, tears staining her little cheeks. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

Olivia’s tiny hands clutched your shirt, her sobs quieting as she relaxed into your embrace. “Mommy… stay with me.”

“I’ll always stay with you, Olivia. We’ll always be together.”

And slowly, the nights became easier. Olivia began to sleep through the night more and more often, her dreams peaceful as she adjusted to the stability of her new life. During the day, she was full of energy—laughing, playing, and exploring her new home. She was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of having two parents, and it filled your heart with joy to see her growing so quickly.

Steve was always there, helping to create routines that made Olivia feel secure. Breakfast together in the mornings, with the sunlight streaming through the windows as Olivia ate her pancakes and giggled. Afternoons spent playing games in the living room or reading books together, Steve sitting on the couch with Olivia in his lap as she pointed at pictures in the storybooks, asking him to read each word. Evenings spent cooking dinner together, with Olivia sitting at the kitchen counter, her small hands stirring the bowl of batter as you and Steve worked side by side.

Sometimes, when Olivia wasn’t looking, you’d catch Steve glancing over at you with a smile that said everything. The joy in his eyes as he watched his little girl grow more confident, more secure in her place within your family. It was a look you shared—one that said this was everything. This was what you had been waiting for, together.

Olivia had begun to call Steve “Daddy” without hesitation. It had been a slow process, but now, when she ran into the living room with a drawing in her hand, her eyes shining with excitement, she’d shout, “Daddy, look what I made!”

And when she ran into your arms at the end of the day, she’d whisper, “Mommy, I love you.”

There were still moments of adjustment, of course. Olivia sometimes had trouble articulating her feelings, and there were moments when she felt confused or afraid, but those moments were fewer now. With each passing day, she was learning to trust the love you and Steve had for her, learning to see you both as the safe haven she had always longed for.

One afternoon, as you sat on the couch with Olivia nestled beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, you thought back to the beginning. The first time you had met her at the orphanage, the way she had clung to you so tightly, unsure of the love you were offering. And now, months later, she was here—fully your daughter, fully a part of your family.

It had taken time. There had been struggles, doubts, and moments of uncertainty. But none of it had mattered. Because now, Olivia had a family who would always love her, who would always be there for her.

And you, Steve, and Olivia were finally together, forever.

Every day with Olivia brought something new—moments of discovery, laughter, and, occasionally, confusion. She was growing more comfortable in her new life, but there were still times when the weight of all the changes was visible on her small face. You and Steve worked tirelessly to make sure she felt loved and safe, prioritizing her happiness above everything else.

One of those days came during a trip to the mall, an outing you had planned as a fun adventure for the three of you. Olivia was still enamored with the idea of the mall after her first visit, but this time, you promised to let her pick out something special for herself. As you walked hand in hand through the bustling corridors, Olivia’s wide eyes darted from one brightly lit store window to the next.

“Mommy, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to a mannequin dressed in a shimmering pink dress.

“It’s a dress, sweetie,” you explained with a smile. “Do you like it?”

She nodded thoughtfully, her tiny face serious as she considered the possibilities. “Can I try it on?”

“You sure can,” Steve said, squeezing her little hand gently. “Let’s go see if they have it in your size.”

Olivia’s excitement bubbled over as you led her into the store. A kind salesperson helped you find the dress in her size, and soon, Olivia was standing in front of a mirror, twirling as the pink fabric shimmered under the lights. Her giggles echoed through the dressing room, and your heart swelled as you watched her revel in the simple joy of trying something new.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Steve said, kneeling to her level as she continued to twirl. “Like a princess.”

Olivia stopped spinning and looked at Steve with wide eyes. “A princess? Like in the movies?”

“Exactly like that,” he replied, grinning. “But even better, because you’re real.”

Her laughter filled the air as she hugged Steve tightly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Moments like these made the transition easier for Olivia. She was discovering a world she’d never known before, filled with kindness and possibility. But not everything was so straightforward. One evening, while you were all enjoying dinner together, Steve’s phone rang with a tone Olivia had come to recognize—the one that meant he was being called to work.

“No,” she said suddenly, her fork dropping onto her plate. “No, Daddy, don’t go!”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he crouched beside her chair, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I have to. It’s my job to help people, remember?”

“But what if you don’t come back?” she asked, her voice trembling. Tears welled in her eyes as she clung to him.

Your heart ached at the sight of her distress, and you knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders. “Daddy always comes back, Livvy. He always will. You know how much he loves you, right?”

Olivia sniffled and nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her face. Steve pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispered. “And I’ll call you every chance I get. Promise.”

Eventually, Olivia let him go, though her eyes stayed glued to the door long after he’d left. That night, you let her sleep in your bed, her small body curled against yours as you stroked her hair and reassured her that everything would be okay.

Despite these challenges, Olivia continued to flourish. Her days were filled with new experiences, like her first trip to the park, where she discovered the thrill of swinging high into the sky, and her first attempt at baking cookies with you, which ended in flour-covered laughter and some surprisingly delicious treats. She was constantly learning and growing, her curious mind eager to absorb everything her new world had to offer.

But what she seemed to love most of all was simply spending time with you and Steve. Whether it was movie nights snuggled on the couch, reading bedtime stories together, or lazy Sunday mornings filled with pancakes and cuddles, Olivia thrived on the love and attention you both gave her.

One particularly chilly evening, after a long day of playing in the park, the three of you were bundled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets as a movie played softly in the background. Olivia was nestled between you and Steve, her head resting on your shoulder as her tiny fingers played with the fabric of your sweater.

“I love this,” she murmured sleepily, her voice barely audible over the movie. “I love being with you.”

Your heart melted at her words, and you kissed the top of her head, holding her a little tighter. “We love being with you too, Livvy.”

Steve reached over to brush a stray curl from her face, his eyes filled with warmth. “You’re the best part of our lives, kiddo.”

Olivia beamed up at him, her face radiant with happiness. Moments like this were what made everything worth it—the late nights, the tears, the challenges. She was your daughter, and there was nothing more fulfilling than seeing her feel safe and loved.

As time went on, Olivia continued to settle into her new life. She grew more confident and independent, but she never stopped seeking the comfort of your arms or Steve’s reassuring presence. She learned to navigate the complexities of her world, from the excitement of trying new things to the confusion of understanding Steve’s dual role as her dad and Captain America.

And though there were still moments of uncertainty, one thing was clear: Olivia had found her place in your family, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was loved.

For her, that was enough. And for you and Steve, it was everything.

The week flew by in a blur of cuddles, playtime, and quiet moments that made life feel impossibly full. Then came the invitation: a family dinner that would bring both your and Steve’s families together, all eager to meet the newest addition to the Rogers household. You were thrilled at the thought of introducing Olivia to her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but as the day approached, Olivia grew quiet and withdrawn.

On the drive to your parents' house, Olivia sat in her car seat, clutching her pink bear—a beloved souvenir from her first mall trip. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside.

“You okay, Livvy?” you asked, turning slightly in your seat.

Her little shoulders lifted in a hesitant shrug. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked in a small voice, barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve met your worried gaze in the rearview mirror. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently, glancing back at her. “Why would you think that?”

“’Cause I’m not really yours,” she mumbled, her words tugging at your heartstrings.

You immediately turned to face her fully. “Olivia Rogers, listen to me,” you said softly but firmly. “You are ours in every way that matters. And our families are going to love you because you’re you. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and the most incredible little girl. They’ve been so excited to meet you.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

“Really,” Steve said, smiling warmly. “They already love you, Livvy. Just wait and see.”

The reassurance seemed to calm her nerves a little, but she still clung to her bear as the car pulled into the driveway of your parents’ house. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the scene, and the sounds of laughter and chatter floated through the open windows.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, the door opened, and your mother appeared, a wide smile spreading across her face as she waved. “They’re here!” she called over her shoulder.

Olivia hesitated, her small hand gripping yours tightly as you walked up the steps. Steve carried her overnight bag, his other hand resting reassuringly on her back.

“Hi, sweetie!” your mother greeted warmly, kneeling to Olivia’s height. “You must be Olivia. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Olivia glanced at you, her eyes uncertain. You gave her a gentle nod, encouraging her. “It’s okay, Livvy,” you whispered.

“Hi,” Olivia said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your mother beamed, her joy palpable. “Come on in, everyone’s so excited to meet you!”

Inside, the house was a bustle of activity. Steve’s mom was setting the table with your dad, and your siblings were chatting with Steve’s sister. The moment Olivia stepped into the living room, she froze. Piled in the corner, almost spilling into the room, was a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts, each adorned with a bow or ribbon.

“That’s for me?” Olivia asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Of course, they’re for you!” Steve’s mom chimed in, coming over to greet her. “We couldn’t wait to spoil you!”

Olivia’s grip on your hand tightened. “But… why?”

“Because we already love you,” your mom said, her voice filled with emotion. “And we want you to feel at home here.”

Slowly, Olivia’s nerves began to melt away as family members took turns introducing themselves. She remained quiet at first, answering questions in single words and holding tightly to her bear. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of her new family worked its magic.

The turning point came when your dad crouched down beside her and asked, “Olivia, do you like games?”

Her eyes lit up for the first time since arriving. “Games? I love games!”

“Well,” your dad said conspiratorially, “I happen to be the best checkers player in this whole house. Think you can beat me?”

A small giggle escaped her lips, and she nodded enthusiastically. “I can try!”

From that moment on, Olivia blossomed. She played checkers with your dad, who “accidentally” let her win every game, and she insisted on showing Steve’s mom her pink bear. Your mom pulled out a photo album and sat with Olivia on the couch, showing her baby pictures of you and Steve, much to Olivia’s delight.

“Daddy was a baby too?” Olivia asked, her tone incredulous.

Steve chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Yep, even me.”

As the night continued, Olivia grew bolder, her laughter filling the room as she bounced between relatives, sharing stories and soaking up the love and attention. The mountain of gifts was slowly unwrapped, revealing toys, clothes, and even a pink tricycle, which earned an ear-piercing squeal of delight.

By the time dessert was served, Olivia was perched on Steve’s mom’s lap, chatting away like they’d known each other forever. She didn’t seem to mind that her grandparents couldn’t run and play the way she was used to; instead, she found joy in their hugs, their stories, and the simple act of being included in the family.

As you watched her interact with everyone, your heart swelled with pride. This was her family now, and she was already carving out her place in it.

Later that night, as the guests began to leave and Olivia’s energy started to wane, she curled up on the couch beside you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Mommy?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“They really like me,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

You wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “Of course they do, Livvy. They love you.”

“And I love them too,” she said, her words slurring as she drifted off to sleep.

Steve scooped her up gently, carrying her to the guest room where she’d be spending the night. As he tucked her in, he kissed her forehead, his voice soft as he whispered, “Goodnight, kiddo. Sweet dreams.”

As you stood in the doorway, watching him with Olivia, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. This was your family.

[bondwithme-murderstyle]

End of Session spencer reid x fem!therapist!reader

wc: 4.7k

Summary: Spencer Reid regularly attends therapy sessions and although his therapist picks his mind apart during their time together, she doesn't quite seem to consider that he's been doing it back to her all along

warnings: +18, mdni!! therapy setting, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, no kissing, porn without plot, unprotected p in v (do as I say, not as I do), no y/n, reader is described as wearing a bra and panties, overstimulation, cockwarming/soaking if you turn around and squint, Spencer edges reader, not as soft!dom as I planned oooops

an: ahhh! my first one-shot ever! i hope y'all like it! i got right to work on it for you! therapy!spencer we love you <3

Smut below the cut!

Spencer Reid had been a client of yours for some years. From the loss of his friend Elle when he was just a young man finding his feet in the world, to the passing and resurrection of Emily Prentiss when you watched his clipped wings start to ruffle and break free one feather at a time, and since the death of his fleeting romance, Maeve, you had watched him grow. A kind man. A nervous man at times depending on what was on his mind. But all the same, a good man.

There were sessions where he wouldn’t stop talking, his mouth going a million-miles-a-minute and there were sessions where he would sit quietly and only answer questions when prompted. Often, in these silent kinds of sessions, his arms would rest on the chair and his fingers would tap and tug at the stitching of the armrest, his long, slender fingers meticulously tracing the thread that held the chair together. 

It was an easy bet that Spencer was one of your favourite patients despite the irregularity of his appointments due to his career. He never brought trouble to your door. He never turned down your offer of coffee or water, he was always kind when he spoke. “Yes, please.” or “Not today, thank you.” And he always, at the end of every session, asked how you were as he gathered his belongings and made his way for the door. 

You had him penciled that evening. 6:30pm. Your final session of the day. 

Since watching Spencer mature and bloom into the man he was today, you knew how inappropriate thoughts could be if they remained untethered. Having known him for so long in the most intricate of ways, your relationship had become somewhat of a relaxed professional friendship that he paid you for. But with that, came the leniency of your mind that sometimes would wander when with other clients. Spencer was far more intriguing. 

And you often took your sessions home with you. It wasn’t the topic of the session you focused on when alone at night reading your books or taking a soak with a glass of wine; instead, it was the feelings he had expressed, it was the deep timbre of his voice and the purse of his lips when he listened intently to your advice. Oh, how closely he listened as though hanging on every word like you were the woman with all the answers to the universe when you sat opposite him. Those thoughts were proving dangerous but it was a far too delicious treat to deny yourself. 

It had become almost a ritual before his sessions, to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror and give yourself a talking to. Should your mind continue to wonder, images growing more detailed and salacious, you would need to consider referring him to another therapist in the building in order to maintain the standard both of you expected. When his hair had started to grow long and he hobbled in to your office with crutches and then a cane some weeks later, it made your throat run dry for the first time. Of course, before that, in your natural human way- you observed a cute and smart man who just needed an ear to vent to. It was small at first, those mindless and fleeting ideals. When he picked at the edge of the chair, the bony structure of his fingers stirred and the thoughts started to linger for longer. Little moments, little mannerisms took root deep in your mind, eagerly awaiting the call from him to arrange his next appointment. You always made a point of taking his call personally, mainly to gauge a rough understanding of his reasoning for making the appointment but also to hear his voice and you even went to the lengths of sharing your direct office line. 

That evening when he arrived, you could tell it was a quiet session. You still asked if he consented to having his sessions recorded but this time, he refused. Respectively, you noted the change and decided to leave your recorder in your desk drawer for the night. Spencer didn’t take his regular seat opposite your own. He had a mystery about him tonight. His hands rested in his pockets and he ventured to the window of your office, head slowly tilting as he observed the street below. “Can I get you water, or coffee before we start?” You asked and closed the door. “Not tonight.” There was an edge. A clip in his tone. Something played on his mind and you tried to work out what it could be as you took your seat and crossed your legs. Your notebook was opened and you clocked the time. 6:34pm. “Okay.” You sighed and smiled, waiting for him to turn around, “Let’s get started.” “Let’s.” Spencer said but remained with his back towards you. He hadn’t brought any of his usual belongings. There was no satchel that always took its place next to his seat. He had no jacket or sweater, only a crisp white shirt covering his back. You maneuvered your pen between your fingers, waiting for him to begin. You noticed the difference in the atmosphere. Mellow and subdued but you could smell the electricity, like the thickness in the air before a storm. Brewing, looming, ready to crack at any moment. It was difficult to concentrate in the silent space, your eyes studying the structure of his stature. He was no meek creature anymore. There was a broadness to his shoulders, a subtle- “Can I ask you a question?” Spencer spoke up but didn’t turn around. “Of course.” You answered him and readied your pen against the paper. “Do you believe in physiological profiling?” “Studying body language?” You questioned, “I do. It’s a marginal part of what I do.” “It’s what I do everyday.” He responded and now turned to look at you. Your eyes caught his. They were burning and dark, a sternness shrouded his face as he awaited your retort. Your lips rolled together in thought, attempting to pinpoint the root of the question. “You do it too. Every client. You read them.”

“I try to focus on their mind, Spencer.” You smile politely.

“Try to?” His ears pricked up and he took a step closer. “You don’t intend to study them?”

“I don’t. I observe what my clients give. I don’t look much deeper than that.”

“You’ve been studying me.” Spencer approached, reminiscent of a pack-animal stalking close to its prey. 

“I’ve been working with you for a long time, now, Spencer. That’s why I record our sessions. I study your words, your cadence, your tone- it tells me more about you than your body-language could.” Your words made him stop and fix himself to the corner of the rug by your desk. His eyes narrowed slightly before he licked his lips and tugged a hand from his pocket to pull at his bottom lip. You tilted your head and watched him. Ever a stoic man, Spencer smiled and nodded after a moment before his hand dropped from his mouth. “Spencer, what brings you here tonight?”

“You do.” His other hand freed itself from his pocket and he gestured to the end-table by your chair, “Put it down.” He instructed and stalked that little bit closer. His command made you scoff lightly and you closed your notebook over on itself, placing it aside.

“Spencer,” You teased, “I have to make notes if you won’t consent to recordings. Completely confidential, I assure you every time you come here.”

“You don’t need notes, doctor. You know enough.” The words cut you to the quick, the quickening beat of your heart caused a flush of heat into your palms, your cheeks. “Do you know what I do when I’m here? Aside from the obvious?” Spencer asked and licked his lips a second time, the pink tip of his tongue dragging slowly back into his mouth over his bottom lip before closing again, waiting for an answer. You weren’t sure where he was going, you weren’t sure how you felt other than incredibly warm and in need of some water. His eyes remained on you, inescapable and fixed. 

“What do you do, Spencer? Aside from the obvious.” You echoed and he seemed to like that, bringing his steps closer once more until he stood by your chair, your table. “I don’t play guessing games. You know I’m not very good at them!” You try to joke and find your hands clasped now between your thighs in place of the notebook, “You should tell me.” 

This was the moment where his hand came to rest on the arm of your own chair, crouching at first and then kneeling. “Open.” He instructed carefully. At first your lips parted, speechless and you were aware in your rational mind that this was close to bordering on inappropriate. Secondly, your legs uncrossed and once more, this seemed to please him. “Do you know what I do when I’m here?” He repeated the question, moving himself to the front of your legs with a gaze that only encouraged you to open up a little bit more. Your heart was in your mouth, your clustered hands beginning to perspire and a heat built as a result. You shook your head, completely transfixed by the look in his eyes. The dark look that flit back and forth on your face and stole your ability to breathe. “I,” Spencer began, his free hand pushing one knee out of the way, “like to think,” the other knee. A space just large enough for him to push into, “about what you think.”

“W-What I think?” Your voice is barely a whisper. His hand remained on your knee and started to move down over your calf, tracing the definition and giving a soft squeeze before moving back up to the part of your thigh that joins to your knee. 

“I think,” Spencer said rather knowingly, his thumb and fingers pressing gently at the soft, malleable skin beneath your pants, “you think about me.” This made you hold your breath. Damn it all to hell, what was he doing?

“Spencer, this is becoming unprofessional.”

“Your thoughts about me are unprofessional.” He quipped and pushed his hand higher. “How long have you had them?” He asked and gave another firmer squeeze to the middle of your thigh. You could feel your breathing grow deeper, quivering in your chest as you attempted to keep your mind reeling over and over your code of conduct. Your silence must have been too long for his liking. “I said, how long have you had them?”

“Not long.”

“You’re lying to me, doctor.” 

“I-I’m not.” You defended and swallowed harshly, your hands coming apart to straighten yourself up in your chair. Your movement made him surge towards you, stopping just inches from your chest, both hands now on either of your thighs. “Spencer, is something going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” You tried again to keep your mind on an even-keel and remain the authoritative figure. 

“I am acting like myself. The part you don’t see,” His breath ghosted over you, “the part you think about when you know you really shouldn’t.”

How did he know? You had been so careful to remain professional and upright in his company. Whatever he had known, he gave nothing away until now. “You’re going to stand up for me and we are going to switch places, doctor.” Spencer said and his hands pushed further into your thighs, moving with a pressure so close to the heat that bubbled and swirled. There was nothing you could do except comply. When you tried to move forward, his force on your legs kept you down, “I didn’t say right now.”

“Spencer, w-what are you doing?” You asked with a hot anticipation, itching for the thumbs on the insides of your thighs to venture where you know they shouldn’t. Just a skim. Just a taste. His influence on you and control of the situation was melting your mind. 

“I’m doing what I want. What you want.” He looked up at you and took a firm hold of your legs, pulling your body closer to the edge of the chair. It made you gasp and his fingers felt now against your ass, deliciously sandwiched between the soft leather and the polyester of your tailored pants. “And you want to take these off.” He said as his fingers deliberately pushed into the seat of the pants. Without thinking, without arguing, you looked down at him, lips still parted and short breaths coming in and out of your mouth as your fingers unfastened the clip, the zip. He helped you to stand but didn’t move to his feet. Instead, Spencer fell back on his knees, only moving back just enough to remain faced with your panties as the black pants were pushed down your thighs, caught by him and ripped the rest of the way down with a fervour that took your breath away. When you sat back down, you kicked them off of your feet, Spencer’s hand feeling over the soft skin of your calf once more, his other hand unbuckling his leather belt.

“This isn’t-” he stole your words amidst the jingle of his buckle and the heat of his lips on your skin, “Oh-!” You could feel yourself grow hot, your hands remaining by your sides and holding onto your legs as he kissed and traced featherlight against you, edging closer to where you desperately needed him the most. 

“Do you always do as you’re told by a client?” Spencer breathed warmly against you, tricking into your core and you had no choice but to lean back and take a deeper breath. As you tried any attempt to cool yourself down, you felt his teeth graze closer, nipping the sensitively thin skin. “I asked you a question, doctor.” He spoke low enough to feel the vibrations ripple through your muscles, tantalising you further. 

“C-Clients don’t tell me what to do.” You managed to stagger the words out as his hands were placed at the bottom of your back, further edging you closer like a hungry child pulling their plate closer to the edge of the table. His eyes glanced upwards to you, an eyebrow raised and scanned down your neck, settling on your chest and you knew immediately what he was asking you to do without saying any word at all. You heed his instruction and unbutton your blouse with shaking fingers, his arms pressing against the spaces yours left behind and his hold was firm, head dipping back to your thighs and lips ghosting dangerously close. 

“Can you guess what I’m considering now?” He questioned  and placed a soft kiss to the hem of your panties before pulling your legs further apart from a simple tug of his fingers that slipped down beneath you. Spencer’s breath was hot and he licked a thick strip up and over your clothed cunt, relishing with a smack of his lips. You writhed and sighed, fingers hesitant to undo the last few buttons. 

“Please.” Your voice was quiet and you felt the air of his chuckle swirl around your core. 

“Can you guess what I’m considering now, doctor?” Spencer repeated himself again with an exaggerated punctuation and you nodded deftly, the only thing your body could think to do other than ooze with arousal. You let your head rest back on the chair, the task of your buttons completed and your hands rested over your stomach. You heard the snapping of his fingers, the absence of his hands on your skin but instead tugging your panties down instead of touching you. The snapping made you look down at him where he was already watching you on his knees and with almost no readable expression on his face. “I want you to look at me and compare this to your thoughts.” 

You weren’t sure when your panties were completely removed but they were and you were now laid mostly bare, your client placing one of your legs over his shoulder and kitten-licking his way around you. “You can look at me, can’t you?”

“Y-Yes. Mmmhmm.” You nodded and used your elbows to keep your view clear, your vision trained on him as his licks became shorter, slower and eventually right where you wanted them. 

“Clever girl.” His voice was muffled as he licked his way through your folds, brandishing your click with the flare of his tongue and making you whine each time. “I’ll know if you don’t look, doctor.” He warned before digging in. Spencer licked deep enough that you could feel it, your head spinning each time his nose brushed against the most pleasurable point of your body. The noises he made sent you reeling and panting. He was enjoying it, lapping you up with enthusiasm. Each groan drove deep into your body, into your bones and made your skin prickle. 

“Spencer-!” Your voice caught as he worked intrinsically against you, the hold of his hand sliding down the leg that now rested on his shoulder, fingers trailing from the front to the back and one slender digit found its way inside and you cried out a strangled moan at the intrusion. 

“You can take more.” He informed, another finger joining in the warmth. “You’re so fucking wet, doctor!” Spencer said quietly before tonguing and sucking at your clit as though you were melting right in front of him. “This all for me?” He asked between laps. His fingers curled within you, moving slowly back and forth in a fashion you could only describe as leisurely. The smacks of his lips and tongue only furthered your pleasure and you felt sure that your elbows would give out. As Spencer worked with devotion, your leg on his shoulder pinned him closer to you, your hips grinding slightly against his face and your fingers gripped at the leather they rested atop. With his fingers building a rhythm, his mouth slurping and canting at your core, you couldn’t help but notice the lack of contact from his other hand. It was nowhere to be found until you managed to tear our eyes away from the flashes of tongue. Spencer was touching himself whilst touching you and the sight had you insatiable. A particular moan that came from him had you sobbing quietly, 

“Spencer, plea-ah! Fuck, keep going-” You mewled. 

“You’ll finish when I finish.” Spencer said but continued to pump his fingers at a growing pace, tongue flickering and his hand working steadily on himself. You can’t contain the moans, you can feel your core tightening, your legs prepared to clench around his head like a vice. 

“Don’t stop!” You breathe, your hips bucking and you could feel the distinct shift of his mouth. A grin. It sent you so very close. His fingers were dripping, you could feel the never-ending flow of your slick teamed with his mouth and Spencer let out a jarring grunt, “Spencer, fuck- I’m close!” 

The words made him stop, violently removing his fingers and leaving you hollow, throbbing and desperate for more. His mouth gave one final suck of your clit and he pushed back from between your legs to stand and drop his own pants. “Move.” He commanded and you did just that. When you stood up, your legs were weak, you resented him partially for leaving you so close and he knew that. As though in a dance, you traded places, your eyes never leaving his, heady with desire for the rest of him. When he took the seat, his fist continued to pump at his cock, the pleasure evident from his own parted and glazed lips and you weren’t quite sure you were prepared. With his wet fingers, he beckoned to you. “Let’s go.” Spencer encouraged as though on a time-constraint and you did just as he asked.

With your legs on either side of him, your breasts pressed against his body, he removed his hand from himself in order to palm at your breasts, teasingly at first and then toughening after you were instructed to “open” once more. There was nothing else you could do than comply and your lips opened slowly. Too slowly. His wet fingers dragged over your lips before pushing their way in and resting at the second knuckle and your mouth enclosed on his fingers. “Thatt’a girl.” He mused and teased at your nipple with his thumb. It made your eyes close, the electric-pleasure halting you in your tracks and your suckling at his fingers ceased. You could feel the tip of him brush against your cunt, eagerly awaiting his next instruction. You tried to hold back but ended up slowly and surely lowering yourself just enough to gain the friction you required. “So, you do think about me?” Spencer asked and with his fingers in your mouth and your cheeks hollow, you nodded. His hand tugged down from your bra, fingers catching at the rim of the cup and snapping back against your skin and making you freeze. You felt the trail of him down over your ribs, destined to touch you. “Hop on, doctor.” He said breathily. 

You were nothing if not obedient by now and you teased yourself a little more to make up for the loss of your orgasm. Your eyes opened and you watched him- Spencer was enamoured by the way your mouth worked on his fingers, tasting the sweetness of yourself and you started to move down slowly, his tip stretching just enough for you to hold his fingers in your teeth and pant. His lips fell open more, allowing you the time to adjust and take him inch by inch. The hot stretch was intoxicating and you settled on top of him with a whine. Spencer removed his fingers from your mouth and his hands held you tightly. You were aware of how full you were, of how much he would knock against you when you decided to move. “You can take me.” He reassured you. 

Steadily, with your forehead clocking onto his, your hips started to move. Slow at first, finding your centre and reveling in the thickness and fullness that made you gasp with each fragment of movement. You lifted yourself and dropped yourself carefully, his tip pushing deep against your cervix and you felt him start to work on your clit. Fingers unable to gain any purchase due to the sheer wetness you had created. “Fuck, you’re so tight f’me!” Spencer groaned but you retorted, “You’re bigger than I’m used to, Spencer!” With a squeal, you settled against him, moving back and forth instead of up and down where he could hit that mouth-watering spot over and over. Your cries made him moan, his hand on your hip so tight and sharp but it only added to the experience. The grip he had on your skin gestured for you to move more, tugging up, signalling he wanted to feel you rise and fall. The feeling of being stretched and played with in tandem had you incredibly close, oh, so incredibly quickly. Paired with his hot breath that skated down your chest and over your breasts, the only thing you managed to do was weakly grind up and down. “That’s it.” Spencer nodded, his lips now deftly open and the odd groan came from deep within his throat. “Ohhh, good-girl! More.” He instructed, helping lift and drop you with the hold on your skin. 

After a while of finding your feet, the cacophony of pleasure rang through your office. Once certain you knew exactly how he wanted you to move, Spencer’s hand felt its way across your back, grappling with the touch of you and you bounced steadily. His curses were music to your ears, his fingers increasing quickly against you and you were fit to burst. You could feel yourself throb and twitch, the hot coil grinding tighter and tighter as Spencer relentlessly fucked over your clit with his fingers. Your hand tugged at his hair for leverage, squealing and whining as he helped in fucking up into you with even more wonderful moans. “Oh, fuck!” You whimpered at the speed he had chosen, the friction he was causing and you were close. So fucking close you could taste it. 

“You want to cum?” Spencer asked and took one hand from his hair, guiding it down between your bodies before completely enveloping you in his hold, “Work for it.” 

You had to. Your fingers replaced his, his arms around your body tight enough to crush as he moved up into you feverishly. “I’m want to cum, fuck-!” You panted into him, “l-let me cum!” You winced and sent him off on another long groan, “Cum. I want to feel you fucking cum on my cock, doctor!” He commanded and with your fingers moving quickly, a heavy sigh from him sent you over. You spasmed, moaning and wailing his name but your fingers pushing you through it, his cock forcing into you as you clenched with a shudder and your head fell into the crook of his neck with sobs spilling down onto his shirt. Spencer’s thrusts never faltered, however. “You can take another!” He decided and unwrapped one arm to bring your face to his, pleasure taking over his lips, his eyes, everywhere, he looked completely bewitched. “One more, my clever-girl. Just one more.” “I can’t-” You choked with your hand going slack between you. 

You weren’t sure how, but he managed to take you to the desk, landing you down with a slow and achingly long drive into you. When did he get rid of his pants? You didn’t remember. Spencer pulled himself from you with abandon and stood you up, “Move.” He commanded and turned you with a flick of your shoulder and with your back to him and stars in your eyes, you felt the stiff wetness of his cock tease between your folds as his hand easily bent you over. You were jelly at this point, prepared to go wherever and however he wanted. Spencer didn’t give any time for adjustments on this go-around. He was quick to slam deep into you, your hands grasping whatever they could on your desk to steady yourself as he pounded deep and quickly with his hands grabbing at your hips and giving him stability. “You’re taking me so well!” He panted against you, everything becoming too much but somehow not enough. Your breasts brushed over pens and papers and your hand finally grappled on to the edge of the desk as Spencer laid you out, “So fucking good!” He moaned and with each snap of his hips, he dragged you closer and closer to that deliciously familiar edge. You gagged and choked and moaned and whined each time his tip burgeoned against you until his thrusts became erratic, infrequent, “Cum on my cock, doctor! Fuck, I-” Spencer panted and he gave three deep and bruising thrusts before stilling and grunting a weak attempt of your name. He was white-knuckling your hips and as he spilled hotly into you, and you cried out once more, a final strained cry and you started to drip down your thigh. As you moved wave after wave through your climax, you felt the throb of Spencer, deep and hot against that perfect spot that had your knees buckling and shaking. For good measure, he continued to pull out and drive back in, all the while he muttered “you did so fucking good!” and variations of “good-girl, clever-girl!” in much softer, breathier tones. With each drawback, he spilled a little bit more down your thighs, dripping and mingling with your own fluids until eventually, he was gone entirely. 

You tried to piece yourself back together, exposed and weak but completely high on the feeling of your client. The clarity dawned on you. You listened to the ruffle of clothing, the jangle of a belt  and quick-snap of a zipper. “I won’t pay you.” Spencer spoke as he placed your panties that had been cast aside now on your desk by your hand, “That’s prostitution.”

Your voice trembled, body close to convulsing from everything that happened. “Spencer-”

“This will be our last session, doctor.” He said, his hand leaving the panties to gently lift your chin before he pulled away and headed for the door. “Our time ran over. Sorry to keep you.” Spencer informed in a polite voice before closing the office door behind him.

[deonn-jaelle]

French lessons and Rough sessions

word count: 3,700

warnings‼️ : smut

pairing : boyfriend aurelien x black female reader

summary : aurelien has an interesting way to teach you to not be so stubborn

note: SURPRISE SHAWTAAAYYYYY. i wanted to write this as a thank you to everyone (including all my moots and aurelien girlies) and a welcome to my new followers bc there have been a lot in the last couple of days! hello and welcome if you're new, i hope you have a great time here 2 another fic inspired by a song ik but songs are great inspo for me. i also mixed in the demon time thoughts of this anon (everyone say "thank you anon"). wrote this on a an hour ago so i hope it's still as good as my more well thought out ones. also i am working on that lewis fic, it is in progress and will be posted soon. i hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think💋💋💋.

“Aurélien” you sing out teasingly, your voice lilting over the soft hum of music filling your cozy apartment. The dim, golden glow of the lamps casts long shadows, warming the space and bathing the French footballer in a sultry light. He lounges shirtless on your plush brown sofa, long, juicy legs sprawled lazily, one arm draped over the backrest like he owns the place. That one vein in his thigh popping out looking oh so appetizing.

Your finger crooks toward him as you sway your hips to the slow, sensual beat of Kehlani’s track playing from your phone. The sweet scent of vanilla candles mixes with the faint musk of his cologne lingering in the air, a heady combination that makes your pulse quicken.

“Clothes off?” you ask, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you roll your shoulders back, accentuating the movement of your hips. The fabric of your shorts brushes teasingly against your skin with each deliberate sway.

Aurélien’s deep brown eyes gleam, his gaze sharp and hungry as it tracks your every move. A slow, confident smile spreads across his face, the kind that promises trouble. “Ah, tu veux que je sois nu, c’est ça?” (Ah, you want me to be naked, is that it?) His voice is rich and smooth, the deep rumble of his accent sending a shiver down your spine.

“Only if you say please” he says, arching a brow as you tilt your head coquettishly. “In French.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reach for the hem of your top, sliding it up and over your head with unhurried precision. The cool air kisses your skin, and the black lace of your bralette feels deliciously daring against your bare torso.

Aurélien exhales softly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes linger on your curves. “S’il te plaît” you murmur, your voice rasping as he bites his lower lip, that signature smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth.

The tension between you hums like a live wire.

He leans back, the firm muscles of his torso stretching enticingly, and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts. The soft brush of his clothes against his skin almost silent in the room. He pushes the fabric down, inch by inch, revealing the sculpted planes of his thighs until his shorts fall to the floor in a soft whisper of fabric, making your mouth water.

Now clad in nothing but black Calvin Kleins, he stands tall before you, his skin glistening faintly under the warm light. Shadows dance across the ridges of his abs, the sharp lines of his physique a testament to hours of discipline and training.

“Hmm” you hum appreciatively, your voice low and thick with want. You step closer, the soft carpet muffling your footsteps, and still looking him in the eyes, you reach out to trail a single fingertip down the length of his chest. His skin is warm, smooth, and firm beneath your touch.

“What’s the French word for insatiable?” you ask, your voice husky as your fingers tease at the waistband of his boxers.

“Insatiable” he replies, his voice, dripping with his sexy, foreign accent, dropping to a growl that vibrates between you.

Before you can slip your fingers further down, his hand catches your wrist, holding you firmly but gently. The warmth of his palm sends a jolt of anticipation through you.

“First” he says, his gaze locking onto yours, dark and commanding, “say something dirty to me en français.”

Your lips curve into a wicked smile as you lean in, your breath ghosting over his jaw. “Baise-moi jusqu’à ce que je ne puisse plus marcher.” (Fuck me until I can’t walk) Your voice is a whisper, low and full of promise.

A sharp breath escapes him, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. The grin that spreads across his face is nothing short of predatory. “Oh, ma belle” he rasps, his voice thick with lust, “tu sais quoi dire pour mettre un homme à genoux.” (You know exactly what to say to bring a man to his knees.)

Aurélien releases your wrist, and you take your time sliding his boxers down, the soft cotton brushing over his firm thighs before pooling at his feet. The heat radiating from his body is intoxicating, and the faint sound of his breathing grows heavier as your hands linger on his skin. The image of him standing right in front of you with nothing in was enough to make you faint. You wanted nothing more but to lick him from head to toe.

His hands find your hips, his grip possessive, pulling you against him. The hard planes of his body press into your softness as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his mouth warm and demanding.

“Tourne-toi and spread your legs for me” (Turn around) he orders against your lips, his voice a low growl that leaves no room for argument.

Your heart pounds as you turn slowly, the cool air brushing your exposed back. You place your palms flat against the wall — knowing that’s what he would say next — the textured surface rough against your skin.

“Bien” (Good) he whispers, his voice low and approving. His hands slide over your shoulders, down your sides, and linger at the clasp of your bra. With a practiced flick, it falls away, leaving your breasts bare to the room’s warm light.

The sharp contrast of his large, calloused hands against your soft skin sends a shiver coursing through you. His fingers dip to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with tantalizing slowness.

You wiggle your hips, feigning innocence as you make the task harder for him. His low growl rumbles behind you.

“Reste immobile” he warns, his tone sharp enough to cut through your playful defiance. (Stay still.)

But you can’t help it—you giggle, wiggling even more just to provoke him.

Aurélien’s hands then grip the waistband firmly, yanking your shorts down in one swift, decisive motion. The fabric catches briefly against your curves before pooling at your ankles, leaving you completely bare. A sharp, stinging slap lands on your left cheek, followed by another on your right. Then again, left then right. The sound echoes in the room, and you gasp, the sting sharp and thrilling.

“Are you going to stop playing now?”

Your lips curve into a pout as you glance over your shoulder. “Ouch, Aurélien, that hurts” you whine, though the heat pooling in your core betrays your words. Your hands find your ass trying to soothe the pain but his hands swat yours away quickly before you could stop the pain.

His grip tightens on your hips, his voice steady but dark with desire. “I asked you a question” he says, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

You turn your head slightly, a teasing glint in your eye. “No.”

He respons with a calm “Mm okay then.” sending a rush of heat through you. You stood there wondering how he is still so unbothered by your antics.

His palm comes down again, harder this time, landing squarely on your backside. The sharp smack echoes against the walls, and you cry out, the sting blooming across your skin and spreading like wildfire.

“You’re going to have to learn not to be bad, chérie” he murmurs, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. The deep timbre of his voice vibrates through you, melting into the haze of desire pooling in your core.

His hand moves in slow, deliberate circles over the place he just struck, the contrast between the soothing motion and the residual sting sparking electric shocks along your nerves. His fingers press gently, teasing the sensitive skin, and your breath catches at the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure.

“Am I a dog?” you ask, your voice dripping with cheeky defiance, though your heart races as you test his patience.

He pauses for a moment, and you feel his body tense behind you. Then, his dark chuckle rumbles low in his chest, the sound rich and dangerous. His hips press forward, and the hard ridge of his arousal grinds against you, stealing a gasp from your lips.

“Non” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. His fingers trail up your spine, tracing a line so light it sends shivers racing across your skin. His touch lingers at the nape of your neck before sliding down again, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you. “Mais we can put you in a position that makes you feel like one.” (but)

The wicked edge in his tone makes your knees tremble, though you refuse to give him the satisfaction of faltering.

“Smart ass” you mutter under your breath, turning your face just enough to mask the smirk tugging at your lips.

You’re sure he didn’t hear you. The music still hums faintly in the background, and the tension in the room is thick enough to drown out quieter sounds. But you’re wrong.

His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. The heat of his palms sears into your skin, a firm reminder of his dominance. You can feel his smirk pressing against the space between your shoulder blades, a silent warning that he doesn’t let anything slide.

“What did you say?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm, but there’s an edge of challenge there, daring you to repeat yourself.

Your mind races as you weigh your options. Finally, you glance back over your shoulder, lips parted in mock innocence. “Je n’ai rien dit” (I didn’t say anything) you reply, your voice sweet and soft, though you both know the lie is as thin as air.

His eyes narrow, dark with suspicion and amusement. “Huh, I must be hearing things then” he says, his grip shifting slightly. You say nothing not wanting to cause him to spank you anymore. You feel the rough pads of his thumbs brushing over the curve of your hips, a tantalizing touch that makes your pulse quicken.

He leans closer, his breath warm against your neck as he murmurs, “Careful, ma belle. Lies have consequences.”

The room feels thick with tension and the musky heat of desire, the dim lighting casting long shadows that flicker with each of your movements. The faint hum of music in the background competes with the sound of your heavy breathing, every note of Kehlani’s sultry melody blending with the symphony of your escalating passion.

Aurelien’s large hands grip your hips possessively, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin with just enough force to leave ghostly impressions. He grinds his hips against your ass in a slow rhythm, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against you through the thin fabric separating your bodies. The friction sends jolts of heat through your core, leaving no doubt about what he wants—or what you need.

Without warning, his hand slides between your legs, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the smoothness of your folds. His fingers dip into your wetness, teasingly stroking the slick, sensitive skin, and you gasp at the sudden intimacy. “You’re already this wet for me…..but you don’t deserve what you want until you start listening.” His accent laces his words with an intoxicating mix of authority and seduction, and his lips brush faintly against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Keep your hands on the wall” he commands, his voice low and firm. “Spread those legs a little wider for me.”

Your knees threaten to buckle under the intensity of his touch, his fingers trailing languidly up and down, drawing out soft gasps that you can’t suppress. Despite the stubborn tilt of your chin, your body betrays you, and you slowly spread your legs wider, the ache for more overcoming any shred of defiance. His hand grips your hip as his other explores your wetness, his thumb grazing your clit with maddening precision.

“D’accord, tu y arrives” (Okay, you’re getting there) he murmurs approvingly, his breath fanning over your neck. The gruff praise sends a thrill down your spine, and your toes curl in anticipation.

Then he pushes two thick fingers inside you, filling you with delicious intensity. You cry out in surprise, arching your back, your walls clenching around him as your body adjusts to the intrusion. “Aurelien!” you gasp, your hand instinctively flying back to grab at his wrist as pleasure courses through you like an electric current.

“Non, bébé, qu’est-ce que j’ai dit?” (No, baby, what did I say?) His tone is both stern and amused, laced with mock disappointment. He pulls his fingers back slightly, denying you the full sensation you crave, before delivering another sharp smack to your bottom that stings enough to make you yelp. “Les mains sur le mur.” (Hands on the wall) The command comes with just a hint of menace, and you know better than to defy him twice.

Whimpering, you flatten your palms against the cool wall, the chill grounding you for a moment before his fingers plunge back into you, curling to hit that perfect spot that makes your legs quake. His thumb resumes its torturous circles on your clit, coaxing desperate cries from your lips as he works you with skillful precision.

“Bien, bébé” (Good, baby) he rasps, his voice low and velvety. The warmth of his breath skims over your damp skin, and you can feel the smirk curling on his lips even though you can’t see it.

Then, just as the pressure within you starts to build, his fingers withdraw abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you—the low scrape of his underwear hitting the floor—and then the hot, hard length of him pressing against your wetness, teasing without entering. You can hear how turned on you are. Your body shudders at the sensation, your breath hitching as he places a firm hand on your lower back, gently arching you forward.

“Stay just like that” he mutters, his tone a tantalizing mix of roughness and care. “Don’t move.”

He grips your hips, spreading your legs wider with his knee, the position forcing you onto your tiptoes, the burn in your thighs adding to the delicious tension building in your core. “Très bien bébé” (Very good baby) he murmurs approvingly, the heat of his words spilling over your ear as he slowly pushes forward, inch by tantalizing inch, stretching you completely.

A low groan escapes his lips as he buries himself fully inside you carefully, his hands flexing against your hips, holding you still as he savors the tight heat enveloping him. “Si humide pour moi…” (So wet for me), he hisses through gritted teeth. The words are raw, and they ignite a fire within you.

“Toi—tu me rends si humide, Aurélien” (You—you make me so wet, Aurelien) you stammer, the effort to form a grammatically correct sentences lost to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. He chuckles darkly at your attempt, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you.

His hips pull back, his length sliding out almost completely before he thrusts back in with a force that sends you rocking forward against the wall. The sound of your back side meeting hips fills the room, a steady, rhythmic slap that only grows louder as he sets a punishing pace.

“Plus fort, s’il te plaît, Aurélien” (Harder, please, Aurelien) you beg, your voice raw and desperate.

“Ah, tu veux que je te baise plus fort, Y/N?” (Ah, you want me to fuck you harder, Y/N?) he taunts, his voice steady and teasing despite the sweat glistening on his skin and the relentless motion of his hips.

“Oui… oui… s’il vous plaît” (Yes… yes… please) you plead, your head tipping back as the words tumble from your lips between gasping breaths.

With a growl, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back so your neck is exposed. The rough pull sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and making you let out a few loud moans, almost sounding like a sob. His lips brush against the curve of your ear “Ne me supplie pas si tu ne peux pas suivre” (Don’t beg if you can’t keep up) he rasps before slamming into you harder, deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves through your trembling frame.

The air in the room is riddled with the scent of sweat and sex, the heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. The dim light casts shadows across the walls, flickering as the movement between your bodies sends vibrations through the room. Your hands scrape against the smooth surface of the wall, desperate for something to anchor yourself as Aurelien drives into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs. Each thrust is unrelenting, hitting deep, hard, and perfect, until the world around you dissolves into white-hot sensations.

“Oh. fuck. yes” you cry out matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your voice raw, almost breaking. The pressure of his thrusts pushes you forward, your cheek brushing the cool wall, a contrast to the blazing heat radiating from your bodies. The sting of overstimulation blends with the sweet ache of pleasure, driving you wild.

Aurelien wraps his thick, muscled bicep around your throat, pulling you flush against him. His chest presses against your sweat-slicked back, the hardness of his body a stark juxtaposition to your trembling body. His lips graze the shell of your ear, and give you a little bite. Hips lips hot and insistent, and the deep, gravelly rasp of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Tu vas jouir sur ma bite, bébé?” (Are you going to cum on my dick, baby?) he growls, his hips slamming into you with merciless precision. Each syllable is steeped in dominance, his accent curling around the words in a way that makes your core tighten.

“Oui! Oui, je vais jouir!” (Yes, yes, I’m going to cum!) you pant, the desperation in your voice echoing off the walls. Your body shakes with anticipation, your muscles tightening as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion. His fingers find your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a skill that has you keening, the sound breaking from your throat like a plea.

You can’t stop yourself from pushing back against him, grinding your hips to meet his brutal rhythm. The lewd slap of skin on skin grows louder, each thrust pushing you closer to the brink.

“Ouais, juste comme ça. Continuez.” (Yeah, just like that. Keep going.) His voice is breathless, thick with arousal, his moans spilling out as he holds you in place, fully impaled on his cock. His arms gently adds a little more pressure to your throat. The pressure is firm but not overwhelming, a delicate balance that only adds to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

Your vision begins to blur, your mind drowning in the sensations. The gentle choke intensifies the pleasure, turning the fire in your core into a roaring inferno. You gasp, the lack of oxygen sharpening every nerve ending, sending shocks of ecstasy coursing through you.

“Ughhh, fuck yessss” Aurelien groans, his deep voice breaking with need. His relentless thrusts grow uneven, his own pleasure cresting as your cries push him over the edge.

The dam within you finally breaks. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body convulsing violently as every nerve ignites. You scream his name, the sound raw and primal, as your inner walls clamp down hard around him, pulling him deeper into you. Aurelien doesn’t stop, his hips hammering into you with harsh, irregular thrusts as your climax continues to ripple through you.

His grip tightens around your throat just enough to send your orgasm into overdrive. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you past the limits of what you thought your body could handle. You feel him swell inside you, his low growl echoing through your ear.

“Sacrément, this pussy feels so good” (Damn) he whispers cruelly, the sinful words spoken in a tone designed to make you lose control all over again. His pace falters, becoming erratic as his own release overtakes him. With a guttural groan, his body tenses, and you feel the hot rush of his seed spilling into you, marking you in the most intimate way.

As he pulls out, his release trickles down your thighs, warm and sticky, a reminder of his claim on you. Aurelien turns you around with firm hands, his touch steadying your shaky legs. His dark eyes lock on yours, heavy-lidded with satisfaction as he spreads your thighs wider, studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Regarde-moi” (Look at me) he commands, his voice soft but brooking no disobedience. His hands remain on your hips, his touch grounding as your body still trembles from the aftermath. You meet his gaze, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath, the dazed look on your face making his smirk widen.

Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes glazed with satisfaction and submission. His seed drips down your inner thighs, mingling with your own arousal, the evidence of your passion painting your skin. You look thoroughly used, and the sight clearly pleases him.

“Did you learn to be good?” he asks, his tone sweetly mocking, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and you can’t help but smirk slightly.

“Yes” you reply, your voice hoarse but tinged with amusement.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Will you be bad again?” he asks, his tone laced with playful warning.

“Maybe” you tease, your lips curling into a grin despite your trembling legs.

His eyes darken, a mischievous glint lighting them as he clicks his tongue. “Oh, I think that means you didn’t learn, chérie” he says, shaking his head. He steps back, his presence commanding even as he gestures toward the bedroom. “Go to the bed and lay down.”

He turns and strides toward the bedroom without a backward glance, his confidence leaving no doubt that you’ll follow. And he’s right. There’s no way you’d dare to disobey—not after this. You take a shaky step forward, your body still tingling, already anticipating what’s to come.

[mnnuni]

Into you

Elliot Stabler x reader

Summary: an undercover operation that exposes some other kind of secrets

Words: 4498

Warnings: mentions of drugs, eventual smut -but very filthy-

Author's note: first of all, sorry if it's too long. Second, yes it is based on Ariana's song, or at least the movie it started in my head when I heard the song on shuffle. Little note in the note: this story is not necessarily in any time and place of the series, I just included Munch and Cassidy because I'm (kinda re)watching season 1 and I love them so much.

* gif and images from Pinterest

* dividers from @cafekitsune

"You're sure you want to do this?"

(Y/N) couldn't say how many times Olivia had already asked her that question, in different ways and places of the district.

She inhaled, closed her eyes

You can do it

"I'm sure Liv, don't worry"

Her colleague smiled at her through the mirror, "then let's finish this make up".

Their team was organising an undercover operation in a fancy club, it was an easy thing : go in, find the drugs, go out.

Of course there was a little detail that determined how the operation was gonna be; this club had a high standard for its clientele and specific rules they had to follow, number one being : "only couples allowed".

Now, the easy take was to send the infamous Benson and Stabler and call it a day, but Olivia couldn't because she had too many extra hours covered already. The next couple would have been (Y/N) and Cassidy, if Munch wouldn't have explained for ten minutes straight how Brian wasn't ready to do a thing like that.

So that left her to work with Elliot.

If it was a normal job (Y/N) wouldn't have worries of any kind, Elliot was a good cop and she trusted him with her life; but going out in a club made for sex and whatnot, faking being the girlfriend of the coworker she so desperately wanted ... that was another thing. That was also the reason why Olivia was so concerned for her, she was the only one that caught (Y/N) staring at her partner in a different way someday -at least she hoped so, even if the others could have known they never said anything-

Elliot was done dressing up ten minutes ago and everyone was growing bored to wait for the women.

"You done playing, ladies?" Munch started screaming and pounding on the door of the locker room, "come on we don't have all night".

When the duo got out the first thing the men noticed were (Y/N)'s legs : she wore a deep blue-almost black dress, it almost reached the knees on the right leg and was shorter on the left. Cassidy whistled when his eyes travelled up her figure and landed on her chest, tightly held up by the dress straps. (Y/N) did a spin, moving her curled hairs in the process and showed her half-bare back.

"Well Miss (Y/L/N) can surely do the work"

"Thank you Much", she was trying so hard not to fumble dressed like this in front of her colleagues, but they didn't have to know that.

"Y-you have, um, I can see your lace" Cassidy said pointing at her upper body, he tried to smirk and be flirty but he got too caught up when (Y/N) got closer "It's intentional Brian, now don't get too flustered". Munch chuckled and his partner was about to defend himself when Cragen cleared his throat and announced they were ready to go.

Elliot was the only one to not say a single word. Noone knew that was because his brain short circuited for a moment seeing (Y/N) like that.

I'm so into you

I can barely breathe

Even in the car to the club he remained silent, too caught up in his head, until they were almost there and (Y/N) was about to explode "now that we're still off, are you okay?" ; her voice startled him for a moment, he nodded and mumbled a sure and kept driving. Five minutes later they were parking.

Elliot took a big breath and finally turned to face her, "okay, so, if someone or something triggers you at any moment for any reason, you tell me and we're out" she nodded and then saw their van stopping few meters away so she leaned in to Elliot and searched in his jacket to switch the microphone, "do you hear us?", someone in the van switched the headlights on and off to answer her, "let's go then"

Elliot got out of the car and went to open the door for her, proceeding to take her arm in his to walk to the club. At the entrance there were two big men with the guest lists, "Stabler", he looked at them for a moment then checked his papers. It was a strangely nice feeling to be part of the "Two for Stabler", (Y/N) wanted to feel like this for real not just for a job.

The man stepped aside and opened the door for them; the first thing they saw was the wardrobe where (Y/N) left her jacket, then they were guided to a red lit corridor that ended to a glass door. There they were, in the middle of the upper class most scandalous nights, they were walking arm in arm between politicians, rich entrepreneurs and whores.

They walked to the bar to have a full view of the room: in the centre there was a little stage for the dj and the eventual singers, all around there were occupied tables, at the left side there were sort of cabins to be more private and to the right big glass doors that they knew took to the private rooms.

(Y/N) was the one facing the bar, counting all the staff members while Elliot, next to her, scanned the rest of the room to search their suspects.

"What can I get you, beautiful?"

(Y/N) was sure the bartender talked to her just because he was mere inches apart from her face, otherwise she wouldn't have think he would have flirted with her, while at work.

Elliot turned in an instant, placing his arm around her back "she would have a Martini, and a soda for me" he was shooting daggers to the poor man, who instantly backed away to do their orders.

(Y/N) was looking at him with a clear expression of "was that necessary?" and he just got closer to her, "what? You're mine tonight"

Her eyebrows shot up so fast she thought she was losing them; Elliot too was a little surprised by his choice of words, even if he so desperately wanted them to be true and not just for tonight.

But close ain't close enough

'Til we cross the line, hey, yeah

So name a game to play

And I'll roll the dice, hey

(Y/N) smirked and turned to face him, "you should..." she bit her lip and unbuttoned his shirt a little "I think it's better like this"

The bartender came back with their glasses before Elliot could say anything, "thank you" she looked at his tag "Brandon" he smiled and was about to go back to work but (Y/N) reached out and took his hand "excuse my boyfriend here, he's not used to share me" he smiled "no I'm sorry, I didn't gather you two were..." Elliot brought her to his chest "together? Yes"

"Tell me Brandon, is there a way we could use your private services?"

Elliot knew that they had to, but oh was he nervous to be in a bedroom with her.

"Did you make a reservation?"

She shook her head, "don't worry, you can wait at one of the private tables. One of us will call you when you can go in the rooms", he then guided them to the right side of the club.

To any possible looker these two were one of the other couples tangled in eachother, waiting for a new experience. In reality (Y/N) had her legs on Elliot's ones to be more closer and be clearly heard in the microphone, she was describing every customer to whoever was listening to them in order to have a complete list of witnesses, just in case. She drank a little and then went to play with Elliott's shirt's collar; he had one of his hands gripping her thighs and the other arm around her, laid on the back of the sofa and occasionally brushing strands of hair off her face.

They were so fucking close to each other.

Every now and then Elliot mumbled something, just to not look suspicious but he really couldn't formulate something longer that two sentences with (Y/N)'s lips so close to his face.

After the longest twenty-five minutes of his life a man cleared his throat next to them, Elliot was so scared of the possibility this was just another flirty guy who wanted to try it with (Y/N) -this open sex club was extremely hard to accept for a man like him- but fortunately it was the chauffeur for the rooms. He led them to the big glass doors and left them in another corridor with a pair of keys and the number five on them.

After he left them alone it was the first instant when they weren't touching in any way and they missed the contact immediately, so much that Elliot took her hand in his.

(Y/N) exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holdin when Elliot closed the door of their room, "okay, so report of the room : massive bed"

They started to search in every corner for anything that could help them with the operation while describing everything out loud.

"I've never seen this many condoms in my life" she suddenly said after opening two drawers, Elliot blushed looking at her with the envelopes in her hands. "Also, the flavour matches the one of the condoms found in the hotel, so now we have the confirmation that they're from here"

"How are you so sure?"

"Well for one, I have the assurance that no pharmacy ever has sold "coke flavored condoms" and because there's the name of the club on the envelope"

He just nodded, "right" and proceeded to open another drawer "oh look we have toys too", Elliot picked up a pair of fluffy handcuffs and showed them to her, "you like 'em detective?"

Was he...nah

Either way, she couldn't let him win, so she marched to him to whisper "I tend to use them to others, not me"

Oh, baby, look what you started

The temperature's rising in here

They were ready to inspect anything further when (Y/N) heard walking from the corridors, "someone's coming" "what?" and then a knock on the room next to them "they're entering the rooms" Elliot whispered.

"Loose the jacket"

He was about to ask why, but he knew better than to question her; she was so hot commanding orders. He carefully positioned the jacket on the back of a chair "I'm gonna put you here guys". When he turned back he found (Y/N) sat on the bed, taking off her heels "what are you-?" "We're supposed to look couply here, we can't be caught investigating" she obviously was right, but Elliot was in a very difficult position here now after she shoved him on the bed.

"So we're..." he was making some gesture with his hands while (Y/N) tried to find the courage to do something, "we have to" "yeah" and then he sat straight on the bed, waiting, thinking.

Elliot didn't have time before (Y/N) moved slightly her dress and positioned herself on his lap whit her legs on either side of him

Is this gonna happen?

Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move (ooh, ooh)

Before I make a move (ooh, ooh)

"Are you sure?"

Elliot was literally burning up.

Then she took his hands and put them on her hips, nodding. They felt so good on her.

They heard more loud walking so they inched closer, then a knock "room service";

So, baby, come light me up

And maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous

But, baby, that's how I want it

Poor guy didn't get an answer because they launched at each other to kiss. One of Elliot's hands travelled to her exposed back and the other gripped her hips more firmly. (Y/N)'s lips tasted of lipstick and were so soft to his rough kiss he wanted to die like this;

A little less conversation and a little more touch my body

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

her hands were gripping his hair and taking him even closer to her. When her breasts pressed to his chest and he felt her lace to his portion of exposed-by-the-unbottoned-shirt pecs he was losing it, Elliot moved her hips on him and that's when she moaned in his mouth.

At the other side of the microphone their colleagues were a mix of confused and delighted.

Got everyone watchin' us

So, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous

But, baby, don't let them see it

"Are they...?" Cassidy was having the time of his life when (Y/N) moaned

"They are" they could hear Elliot's now because (Y/N) was kissing his neck "they so are", confirmed Olivia and Munch.

That's when another knock was heard and finally the person opened the door.

The couple got off each other's lips just because the guy excused himself. Then reality came back down again.

Elliot moved to hear the man better, putting his hands under (Y/N)'s butt to cover her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, I am at your service tonight" he had a tray with champagne in his hand and just a pair of trousers on. (Y/N) didn't falter for a second there, getting up and meeting their guest, "oh don't be sorry, we got a little carried away"

She could hear Cassidy chuckles in her head.

"I'm (Y/N), come meet my boyfriend" she took the tray from him and gestured for the guy to sit next to Elliot, who introduced himself. She then sat on the other side of the guy, putting her legs on both the men's ones; Elliot gave her a side glance at how comfortable she looked putting herself on this guy.

"Tell us..."

"Caleb"

She smiled, "Caleb, how does it work, your service?"

He proceeded to explain how they were a fancy club for couples who wanted to explore their sexual lives, he didn't know but the more he talked the more criminal sentences he was giving this place. Elliot was more than pleased to look at (Y/N) flirt and touch this man to give them everything and more they needed.

"And tell me, is there a way to have some... Incentives?" she got up to sit down on Elliot again, "you see my boyfriend here has a hard time with all my eccentricities, but he's willing to try tonight and I'm sure that with some magical helps he would love to have the both of us"

Elliot was dying under her caresses.

The guy was starting to negate the service when he jumped in the ring again, "we're willing to pay more, of course"

Caleb's eyes lit up then; he agreed and got up to a wall, pressed some invisible buttons and revealed a cabinet full of any kind of powders.

"Now the party can start"

This was (Y/N)'s signal to the team to start moving.

While Elliot was next to Caleb pretending to choose what would have been his poison, they heard some commotion from the outside. They didn't break character for a minute, (Y/N) was comfortably laying on the bed when Munch got the door down and declared the guy under arrest.

"Finally"

Now, the easy part was done: the club was shot down, the owners were arrested and the ADA had so much proof to put everyone working there behind bars that they even thanked the team.

The hard times were just about to start when an hour later they were still at the precinct doing reports; Elliot and (Y/N) didn't have a chance to talk yet and she was almost grateful for this, what could she even possibly say? Sorry if I devoured your face and I used our operation as an excuse to make out to you?!

She kept her head low and just wrote in the files for the entire time, she was also grateful no one said anything about their work -even if she was sure Cassidy and Munch had some sly remarks ready the instant she and Elliot walked out the doors, Olivia only threatened them if they talked. (Y/N) could sense Brian's struggle to shut up at the desk in front of her-

Meanwhile Elliot was just opposite her, on the other side of the room and couldn't take his eyes off of her; they were still in their clothes, (Y/N) just raised her hairs with a clip -which made her ten times sexier in his opinion- and got free of her heels. He did just half the report because he was too engrossed in looking at her, how calmed she seemed while she worked and how she bit her lip from time to time while thinking about bigger words to fill her papers. But mostly he couldn't stop thinking about how stupid he was to not talk to her yet, after he had the best kiss of his life and just wanted to repeat it forever.

(Y/N) was painfully oblivious to Elliot's stare, too preoccupied to avoid taking notice of Cassidy eyes moving from Munch to Elliot -they had practically cleaned her lipstick stains on Elliot's lips and neck for the amount of times they looked at them-

When she was done she got up, handed over her files and went away; she just squeezed Olivia's shoulder on the way, but didn't say a word to anyone.

It took Elliot the time she started the car and drove off to understand he had to move too, but only after Cassidy threw him an eraser and Olivia screamed at him to "go take his girl".

It made him smile to think about her that way.

The knock (Y/N) heard from her door were so strong and determined she instantly went to see whose was, she opened the door with a confused expression on her face.

"Hi"

She just made him space on the door to enter her apartment.

Elliot didn't know where to start, how could he explain things to her when he didn't stop and thought about it?! He inhaled a big breath and prepared himself for a big monologue.

This could take some time, hey

I made too many mistakes

Better get this right, right, baby

"First of all, I'm sorry" she was about to answer but he made a motion with his hand to stop her, "please let me get this all out first"

"Sure, right", (Y/N) sat on the couch and invited him to join her -she was actually shitting herself considering his tone, but she sensed that he needed this moment so she'd wait to do anything, even if she'd wanted to crumble right then and there-

Elliot took a place next to her, diverting his legs in order to face her. Ugh.

Tell me what you came here for

'Cause I can't, I can't wait no more

I'm on the edge with no control

And I need, I need you to know

You to know, oh, yeah

"I'm sorry if anything that I did, or didn't do tonight made you uncomfortable. I wasn't expecting the turn that took the night, but I must specify I was pleasantly surprised."

Maybe (Y/N) could restart breathing.

"(Y/N) you're an amazing woman, I admire you as a cop and I love working with you"

Why did this sound like a rejection? Or worse, a goodbye!?

"But most of all, I loved kissing you tonight"

Oh shit

He took her hands in his, "I know that we're supposed to be professional and I don't want to seem irrational right now, but I'd really fucking like to kiss you again, more then once"

She was flabbergasted. She couldn't form a thought, her jaw was on the floor and her heart was beating at the rate of a heart attack.

"Please say something"

So, baby, come light me up (light me up)

And maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous (dangerous)

But, baby, that's how I want it (how I want it)

A little less conversation and a little more touch my body

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

(Y/N) pulled him from the shirt and kissed him, more confident than before. She pressed him to her putting her arms around his neck, while his found her waist; she opened her mouth to taste his tongue and he fucking groaned through the kiss, she was ready to fight his tongue for dominance when he pulled away.

"So I guess you..."

"Yes Elliot" she kissed the corner of his mouth "I like you too" and then his jaw "and I really like to kiss you" moving to his neck "and I'd like to do it for quite some time, if you'd like"

"I would love to", he was turning his face to kiss her again but she got closer to his ear to whisper something, "I would also want for you to fuck me, like right now" and then she smirked.

She didn't give him time to do anything because she ran away to her bedroom; Elliot woke up from his trans and followed her, finding her in front of the mirror trying to get away from her dress. He came up behind her and took her hands' place on her zipper.

He unzipped it so slowly, kissing every inch he discovered and then let the dress fall at her feet.

"Fuck"

He palmed her naked breasts, still looking at (Y/N) through the mirror, her head fell on his chest from the pleasure.

"I think you're too much covered" she decided when she turned around and got unbuttoned his shirt with one powerful move.

"Ehi! I liked that shirt" Elliot himself knew he was only half complaining, "I like it better off" she fucking licked her lips looking at his bare torso.

(Y/N) kissed every part of his chest, from the clavicle to his pecs; she sucked one of his nipples and was happily pleased when she realised his breath was becoming more erratic. She trailed her tongue down all his abs until she got on her knees, asking the permission to unbuckle his belt and jeans.

"You can do me whatever you want love"

Love

She worked his clothes rather quickly and stopped only in front of his underwear: shit, he was big. But she couldn't praise him about his size yet. She palmed his boner and got excited enough to yank his underwear away and take his dick in her hands.

Elliot was dying of anticipation there.

After stroking him two times (Y/N) licked his shaft and he hissed. He was ready!

Finally she put her mouth on his tip and sucked all the dick down in her mouth.

"Holy shit", he grabbed her hair and she looked at him with big eyes before she started to move her head up and down. She was phenomenal. At some point she took his balls in her hand and started squeezing, "oh my- (Y/N)"

It took her two minutes of full bobbing before she had to take air, but she never stopped touching him, always licking on nipping his tip. When she put her mouth on him again she started to move faster and sucking harder. Elliot was a moaning mess up there, moving his hips in sync with her.

"Baby I'm gonna-" he couldn't talk, she gripped his ass and sucked his cock so much deeper in her mouth he couldn't even think before he shot down her throat. She kept moving her head until he stopped screaming for her and came down his high.

When she left his dick (Y/N) was smiling and Elliot loved this. He helped her get up, just to take her in his arms and put her on the bed.

"You were-"

"Amazing, I know" he chucked, "you really were", he kissed her neck then, lowering himself on her. He felt her wet panties to his cock, who was already recovering feeling her like this. He moved his hands through all her leg, stopping at her inner thigh and sensing her warmth. Elliot looked her in her eyes when he finally put a hand on her pussy. She hissed at the contact.

"You're soaked baby"

"A good cock might do this to me"

She wasn't even embarrassed to show him how much she wanted him; he smirked and slowly let herself free of her panties.

"Look at her, so pretty and ready for me"

His talking of her pussy made her involuntarily lift her hips, which made Elliot smirk even more before he put a finger on her clit.

"Mmmh"

"That's right love"

Fuck he was good with his fingers. She knew he was only giving his dick time to recover, but (Y/N) was enjoying every minute of his fingers entering her hole. She was gripping his forearm when he pushed his second finger in to "prep her for his dick", he said. She was sure he was just enjoying her so fucked up just by his fingers.

"El I need you, now"

His face lit up, "you sure?", she took his cock and aligned it with her entrance, soaking it with her wetness "I'm sure".

He pushed into her very slowly, he was relishing in every inch of her stretching to his length. When he was done he waited a few seconds to move, admiring (Y/N)'s face while she adjusted to his size; suddenly she moved her hips making him hiss and then start to pound into her at a determinate pace.

"God, yes"

She was feeling every inch of his big dick and she was fucking loving it. He moved so well into her while also paying attention to every other part of her : when he wasn't kissing her neck, he was squeezing her tits or whispering dirty things in her ears.

She was loving his dirty talk.

"Come on baby, let me feel you squeeze my dick"

(Y/N) never moaned so loudly in her life. One of her hands was gripping the sheets and the other was firm to Elliot's back to have him always there, pounding into her, extremely close and sweaty. When Elliot started playing with her clit (Y/N)'s eyes rolled so back he was afraid she'd loose them.

"I-I'm so close baby"

Fuck, she called him baby

Elliot became even faster and impatient to let her finish around him; she was a screaming mess while she cum but Elliot loved her clenched pussy around him. Before he could cum he pulled out and finished on her stomach, still patting her clit while he stroked himself.

It was the sexiest thing (Y/N) ever saw; the scene became even more erotic when Elliot went down and licked his cum from her skin and then got up to her face saying "it tastes like you".

She smiled at him and pulled him in her arms, "after you'd done a thing like this, I'll never give you away"

"And I'll never leave, love"

[the-nothing-maker]

I feel like “men = evil” is getting more and more prevalent lately and it sucks. And I don’t mean this in a “not all men” way- all this stuff feels different now than it did a handful of years ago. It feels less like “a lot of men have been taught to think this way” and more like “men are inherently gross and bad”, which sucks for everyone imo.

Anyway I love your art and your posts, and I hope you have a good day <3

Hmmm, yeah, I've definitely felt that way too these past few months. I know I live in a relatively small bubble, so I might be biased, but it's a feeling that's been gnawing at me for some time now.

I don't think I've got much to add to the conversation except for my own feelings (not easy nor fun being transmasc in an environment like this). Thankfully, a lot of people have spoken much more eloquently on the topic! No one will come out unscathed from bioessentialist supremacy.

Anyway! There's not much point to giving more ground to that rhetoric. I'll be over there having my femme transmasc fun party and you're all invited <3

[gomzdrawfr]

🧡 thank you for all of the love. glad you like the warren so far!

thank YOU for the absolute bangers, just chapters of increasing unsettling vibes I LOVE IT!!

the warren

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[little-pup-pip]

Hi I really love your mood boards I think they're really pretty If you wouldn't mind could you make a Pinkie Pie and/or Fluttershy if you haven't already please

Hello! My requests are closed currently, however! I have made two pinkie pie and two Fluttershy moodboards you might like!! Feel free to request something when I reopen them, though!!

Pinkie 1 ★ Pinkie 2

Fluttershy 1 ★ Fluttershy 2