#that and my perfectionist urges

[itsjaywalkers]

FINALLY FREE FROM THE JEG BIGBANG!!!!!!! EVERYONE CHEERED!!!!!!!! (girl who's gonna be rereading random chs every couple of days and editing obsessively until the fic gets posted because she already noticed a few typos while formatting the story)

[notozthewizard]

Just two guys on a trip in the middle of nowhere. Enjoying fresh air and definitely not (affectionately) insulting each other

[aurriearts]

got back into playing hades again, wanted to paint my favourite scene from it

(click for better resolution)

[worstscholar]

I've been learning how to draw and I'm just getting into anatomy, like learning all the muscles and the names and shit. n'all i can think about is law and i, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. he's got his medical books open, refreshing his knowledge of anatomy for my sake. I'm sat right next to him with my dumb notebook out, listening to him talk about muscles and what they do as i sketch. it evolves into him leaning against me, hazy eyed and tired, pointing to different things as i sketch bodies, telling me shit like, "there's cartilage between these two muscles, so they should be further apart..." - "your missing the muscle there." - "there's a muscle connecting these two parts..." his voice is soft and comfortable, a tone that's only reserved for me. he's studying the side of my face, not bothering to look at what I'm doing until i turn to him, so he doesn't realize I've started drawing his tattoos onto all of my sketches, until i turn to him with a proud smile on my face. his cheeks bloom pink and he hides his fluster behind a light scoff and an eyeroll, but he likes that I'm always thinking of him, thinking of ways to insert him into whatever I'm doing. it fills his stomach with butterflies and makes his heart do funny things.

[jaarijani]

forgot to post this here 💙💚

[t3chborb]

Sooooo not only has the PVE (AKA Ramattra story) been axed...

THIS is also a thing

(^ Link to a Tweet. Overwatch Widowmaker has a brutal Tracer elim line)

.

..

...

Okay yeah, Mirrorwatch, makes sense the world class terrorist is a the leading peace advocate.

Buuuut it also means he's factually dead in this universe.

M A N, apparently PVE cancellation wasn't bad enough, let's just kill the guy without bothering to give him a Mondatta skin ;)

Blizzard be doing our boy dirty...

[nugget-child]

Chuuya drawing I lowkey hate that I did in school either a day or two ago I don’t fucking remember

[cheeto-flavoured-pasta]

Malevolent - MalPoWriMo Day One: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

As part of the Malevolent-themed poetry month challenge created by @matcha-fawn!

Day One: Miles to Go Before I Sleep

He stares at nothing with the god in his head. 

The world is wrecked by the horrors that plague 

dimensions beyond comprehension. 

The air is screaming. Give up. Give up.

 End it now, seal your fate, 

there is nothing left for you here.

Only there is. 

The flame in his pocket does not lie. 

The fire in his heart does not falter. 

The darkness will swallow him whole and he will come out brighter.

So he picks up his one hand, 

god taking the other, 

clasping them in a hopeful vow. 

There are promises made and moments shared, 

places to reach and people to meet. 

There are miles to go, they cannot sleep now.

[marysixnumbers]

Here’s a few loose Overwatch headcanons that don’t fit anywhere else yet:

-Soldier and Ana don’t get involved in as many tickle situations as they used to, but they still somehow know everyone’s worst spots and will use that knowledge to break up tickle fights if needed. Once, Ana found herself walking past her daugher tickling the living daylights out of Mercy; one idle comment mentioning Pharah’s weak spot had the tables turned in a matter of seconds, ever since Pharah has found winning tickle fights against Mercy a lot more difficult.

-Reaper is one of the biggest lees in the cast because if you’re the Grand Prince of Darkness (or whatever) and someone tickles you, what are you gonna do? Tickle them back? Stoop to their level and end up looking ridiculous? So his plan consists of batting away his ler’s hands while trying to stifle his laughter. (It ususally doesn’t work.)

- Ever since they each found out the other was ticklish, Tracer and Kirko constantly get into no-holds-barred tickle fights. Both are competitive enough to want to win at any cost, but sensitive enough to make winning from a disadvantageous position extremely difficult. Currently Tracer is on a winning streak, thanks to a spot on Kiriko’s upper ribcage that makes her screech and punch the nearest surface, but given that the two are both massive switches, you never know how the tides will change.

-While examining Echo in her workshop, Brigitte discovered that if Echo casts her beam attack on bare skin at the lowest possible power level, it really, really tickles. What started off as an opportunity to prank a few friends quickly spiralled out of control; Brigitte spend the rest of the day chasing down a robot drunk with the newfound power to have her teammates curled up and laughing hysterically with a flick of her fingers. These days, Echo knows not to use the dreaded Tickle Ray recklessly, but she still has some fun with it every so often.

-Mei is the only person who knows that Zarya’s ticklish, finding out when she touched the Russian’s sides a little too lightly during a hug. Zarya swore the scientist to secrecy, but whenever Mei ambushes her by poking her belly or spidering over her legs, she never seems that eager to push her away. It’s not uncommon to walk past Zarya’s quarters on a bright winter’s morning and hear her light chuckles floating out from under the door.

[singswan-springswan]

Me 'n my fave 💙

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── i didn't hear what you said, i just want to kiss you

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is for all of my perfectionist students lmao. kind of self indulgent and super inspired by hyunjin's latest live. enjoy!! <3<3<3

For years now, your boyfriend has been your favorite study partner. Always patient, kind, and considerate of your needs, helping you tackle every difficult subject with a smile on his face. Bringing you snacks, urging you to take breaks whenever he sensed you needed it but most importantly, never pressuring you in any way. Despite your stellar marks, he always says:

“Don’t stress too much about it. Grades aren’t everything.”

And you believe him, you really do, yet the overachiever part of your soul is always louder, and never lets you rest, yelling in your ear until you comply and spend your whole day cooped up inside, studying.

You need to get the highest grade possible, otherwise you’ll shrivel up and die.

Hyunjin keeps you grounded, that’s why there’s no better person alive than your boyfriend. An angel in disguise who has somehow fallen from grace, lost his wings, and is now trapped on earth, forced to mingle with mere mortals like you.

And mingle he does. But unfortunately for him that’s not enough – he also has to teach you statistics.

“See? The difference between descriptive statistics and inferential statistics is quite simple. It’s easier to tell them apart now, right?”

“I guess…” You yawn, setting your glittery pen aside before stretching your arms above your head. “I need a break.”

Hyunjin cocks a brow, amused. “We just started.”

“Half an hour ago!” You point towards the clock on the far wall, hidden behind endless amounts of bookshelves.

“Exactly, we barely managed to scratch the surface.” He pouts, running a hand over his buzzed head in slight exasperation.

You have to resist the urge of squishing his cheeks together, not wanting to make a scene in public. Cuteness aggression was a real thing you fought with every day. “I’m not going to lie, my love. I stopped listening to whatever you were explaining 15 minutes ago.”

“What?”

You nod. “I didn’t hear anything you said.” Then, you scoot closer, gluing yourself to his side as your voice drops several octaves. “I just want to kiss you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen slightly at your confession, swiftly looking around to ensure the nearby tables are still vacant. Then, he tongues his cheek in the most attractive way you’ve witnessed, a smirk hanging off the corners of his mouth as he shakes his head.

“After you finish this chapter.” He eventually breathes out, allowing one of his hands to rest on your upper thigh and squeeze in encouragement.

Your head falls back with a groan, frustrated. “Come on, Hyun!” the way you drag out his name has him chuckling lowly, eyes sparkling. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Suffer?” He laughs, poking your forehead. “You’ll only suffer if you fail this test.”

“I won’t fail.” You huff, jerking back. His hand then slips off your thigh and the lack of warmth has you scrawling right back, wounding your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, hoping he’ll cave.

Hyunjin’s eyes fall to your lips, and you know it’s a matter of time before the spell you got him under works its magic. “Of course, you won’t. I won’t allow it.”

Your bright smile snaps his attention back to your eyes, which he seems to get lost exploring, absorbed by the beautiful color. Without missing a beat, you lean forward to connect your lips, eager to taste the cherry chapstick you applied on him when he complained about his lips being dry.

You guess even angels can get dehydrated.

Making out at the library on a Thursday night was never on your bingo card, but with Hyunjin as your partner in crime, you wouldn’t mind doing anything. He makes you feel safe in any situation, but especially when you have to get out of your comfort zone, tackle life head-on when putting things on hold is no longer an option.

You manage to peck his lips, once, twice, and then three times before he brings you closer, big hands sliding down from your waist to your hips and squeezing, needing to feel your flesh between his fingers.

His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and as your mouth opens to allow him access to every part of you, a low moan escapes you both simultaneously. Alcohol was overrated – you’ve only ever gotten drunk on each other.

“We don’t even share a major.” He gasps as he pulls away, and your lips find his jaw.

“I know.” Another kiss graces the beautiful mole under his eye.

With the way you’re kissing him, your lips trailing down his throat, Hyunjin has trouble speaking. “I-I’ve never taken this class before.”

“I know.” You nod, pecking the base of his neck.

A shiver runs down his spine, and his hold on you tightens, almost like he’s ready to lift and place you on his lap, deeming you too far away. “So why do I keep helping you like I’m some dean’s list student?”

“Because you love me.” You finally stop to look into his eyes, heart fluttering at the way his chest is already weaving up and down after a few minutes of innocent kisses. Your touch has always had that effect on him, so you were never confused about his feelings towards you. Hyunjin wore his heart on his sleeve, body reacting faster than his brain could process, never failing to show you how near and dear you are to him. How much he adored every one of your endearing quirks, loving you unconditionally like it was a duty he never wanted to be free of. “As much as I love you.”

With a cocky smirk he barely manages to muster, he replies while tucking some hair behind your ear. “I think I love you a little more than you love me, actually.”

“That’s impossible, Hyun.”

And you were certain of it. Nothing could be bigger than the love you held for this angel.

[v6quewrlds]

REWIND, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀a collection of firsts & special moments.

author's note⠀⁎⠀thee timeline fic! featuring a little backstory about wifey. another installment in my 'joe can't shut up when he's in love' campaign. incorporated things discussed in the wifey tag <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, established relationship, some smut & angst but mostly fluff.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

BACKSTORY, about her.

Honor Roll student, president of every club she set foot in, certified over-achiever. From a young age, she knew exactly what she was put on this earth to do: succeed. She had always been perfectly self-motivated, a tireless perfectionist whose determination landed her a full ride to MIT.

Living in Boston taught her a lot about life.

Double-majoring in Biology & Psychology while designating yourself as a Pre-Med student is not for the weak.

Gummies make her tummy ache.

It's never a good idea to mix liquor with beer.

She needs her pilates fix even if it might bankrupt her.

Those lessons paled compared to the one she learned from the 6-foot-tall Economics major who lived across the hall from her. Junior year made for a lot of ups and downs as she began her studying for the MCAT. Mr. Economics ruined her perception of love and forced her to swear off men. Indefinitely.

For the next few years, that decision proved to work out well for her. Perfectly on track, she attended medical school at UPenn. Though she was unfortunately separated from her best friend and college roommate, Leah, she made it a point to stay on track. No time for serious conversations - much less relationships - with men.

By some miracle, she matched into Case Western's Dermatology program, where Leah also matched for Anesthesiology. To celebrate, she and Leah immediately found an apartment in Cleveland and decided to throw a hybrid graduation/housewarming party. Kyla, deciding she had enough of her best friend's swearing off of men, extended an invitation to her brother's childhood friend: Cincinnati Bengals starting quarterback, Joe Burrow.

Coming off of a season-ending injury his rookie year, Leah sent Joe a charming text urging him to stop by under the guise of good vibes, a promised slice of cake, and a girl she thought he should meet.

"What do you think? Denim skirt with the black tube top or the red mini-dress?" Leah asked, holding up two options as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in their shared bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, swiping through her phone, distractedly offering an opinion. "Red mini-dress," she murmured, her thoughts already drifting to the party preparations.

The apartment was a modest two-bedroom in an up-and-coming Cleveland neighborhood, a place they'd both be calling home for the next few years as they embarked on their medical residencies. The walls were a soft shade of cream, with hints of pink and blue in the accent pillows and curtains. The living room was a cozy blend of second-hand furniture and IKEA staples provided by Leah's parents, now transformed with strings of fairy lights and a makeshift bar set up on a folding table.

She was already dressed, her own leopard mini-skirt paired with a black corset top that accentuated her curves. She'd spent hours getting ready, her hair in loose curls that fell down her back, her makeup a perfect blend of smoky and natural. The scent of her favorite vanilla perfume lingered in the air as she lifted her gaze from her phone to look at Leah. Her best friend looked stunning in both outfits, but the red mini-dress was definitely the winner. It hugged her figure in all the right places and brought out the life in her brown eyes.

The doorbell rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Oh, shit!" Leah squealed. "Help me decide on shoes!" Leah grabbed a pair of strappy black heels and a set of red ones, holding them up to the dress. She nodded towards the black ones, her hands reaching to help Leah zip her dress the rest of the way up. "Aren't those Kayla's?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Leah rolled her eyes. "In the breakup box for a reason. But they're the only ones that don't kill my feet." She stepped into the shoes and twirled around. "Alright, let's do this," she said, leading the way to the front door as they headed to greet their first guests.

The party grew in numbers and volume as the night went on, the laughter and chatter filling the air. She felt the tension of the past few months of exams and residency applications slowly unraveling as she mingled with her friends from Penn, Leah's from Ohio State, and those they both met at MIT. The music played a mix of their favorite tracks, and the smell of pizza and various flavors of wings wafted from the kitchen. Leah's friends from high school had brought a few board games, which had devolved into drunken versions of Cards Against Humanity and Jenga.

Joe Burrow had arrived nearly 30 minutes prior, his towering frame and perfectly coiffed golden brown hair preventing him from fully blending in with the rest of the crowd. The guests had buzzed around him, eager to talk about his recovery, his future in the NFL, and the upcoming reunion with one of his wide receivers from his national title-winning LSU team. She had caught glimpses of him from across the room, it was hard not to as he stood head and shoulders above the vast majority of the partygoers.

She was vaguely aware of Leah's connection to the Bengals starting quarterback. Her younger brother had played with him in high school, Leah and Joe hadn't been particularly close since then. Yet, here he was, looking like a god in a room full of mere mortals—the others in the room certainly treated him like one.

"Babe!" Leah's voice cut through the chatter as she approached, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want you to meet someone." Leah grabbed her hand and practically dragged her across the room. "Joe, this is my roommate and best friend," Leah announced, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she made the introduction. "Babe, this is Joe. He's really good friends with Alex. We grew up together," she added with a dramatic flair.

Joe extended his hand with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you." His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. He had a firm handshake, undoubtedly honed over years of convincing rich old men to take a chance on him. She could feel her face heating up, a meekness that she hoped the dim lighting would hide. She took his hand, giving it a firm shake back. "It's nice to meet you too," she replied, her voice surprisingly steady despite the sudden jitters in her stomach.

Leah practically vibrated with excitement as she played matchmaker, conveniently leaving them to navigate the awkwardness of their first encounter. Her eyes locked onto Joe's, noticing the playful twinkle in his baby blues as he watched Leah depart just as suddenly as she'd arrived. He took a sip of his soda, his bicep flexing against the fabric of his t-shirt, and she found herself momentarily speechless.

"Can I get you a drink? An actual drink?" She offered, trying to shake off the nerves with as brilliant a smile as she could muster.

Joe's eyes lit up at the prospect of a break from the lukewarm soda. "Sure, what do you have?" he asked, long legs trailing behind her as she led him to the makeshift bar. She grabbed a chilled can of vodka soda, popped it open, and handed it to him. He took it with a nod of thanks.

Two High Noons, a shot of tequila, half a spilled drink, and two hours later, she found herself in a corner of her crowded living room, almost chest-to-chest with Joe. The music had gotten louder, the lights dimmer, and the party had evolved into a dance floor with a pulsing bass line. Up close, he was magnetic. Intense blue eyes, an impossibly broad frame, and a smile that could melt the panties off a glacier. In the span of two hours, they had managed to exchange their entire life's stories—his football triumphs, her medical school horrors, and their near identical gym playlists.

"Come on, you can't be serious," Joe said with a laugh, holding his ice water contained in a red Solo cup against his chest.

She leaned against the wall, shaking her head with feigned distaste. "There isn't a single universe where Eminem has the best verse on 'Forever'. It's all Wayne," she insisted, watching his expression over the top of her own cup.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Did we listen to the same song? Because Eminem's verse on that track is untouchable."

She rolled her eyes, her smile growing wider. "I'm not saying Eminem's verse isn't good, but Wayne's verse just hits different," she said, taking a sip of her drink, feeling the cool liquid wash down her throat.

"Eminem's verse was so good, Kanye rewrote his verse after hearing Em's. That's gotta say something," Joe countered, his eyes sparkling with the same passion she had for her argument. She laughed, subconsciously taking a step closer to him, enjoying the debate more than she'd enjoyed any non-academic conversation with a man in a long time. She took a deep breath, the scent of Joe's cologne—something clean and masculine—mingling with the faint lingering aroma of pizza and the heavy scent of alcohol.

Her hand brushed against his bicep as she leaned in to make her next point, feeling the heat of his body even through the fabric of her own clingy top. "But Wayne's was so well written, had the better flow, his personality shines through. You can't just ignore that," she argued, her eyes meeting his.

Joe took a step closer, his voice dropping an octave. "Okay, okay, I'll give you that. It's a close call, but for me, Eminem takes the cake," he conceded, his smirk growing. The room spun slightly around her as she took another sip of her drink, her eyes lingering on his full lips.

"Why aren't you drinking with me?" She asked him, half whining. She swayed to the music slightly, the alcohol loosening her inhibitions, making her more flirtatious than she normally allowed herself to be. His eyes searched hers, the playfulness in her gaze clear.

Joe took a step back, holding his cup of ice water up as a defense. "I gotta drive back to Columbus tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Can't be drunk driving. You know how it is."

"Hmmm," she hummed with a nod. "NFL superstar… right. Image comes first," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "But what if you didn't have to drive?" she asked. She leaned in closer, her breath warm and sweet, hinting at the stolen sips of some vodka lemonade mix she'd gone back to throughout the night.

Joe looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "If I didn't drive…" he began, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. "Where would I crash?"

She felt the heat rising in her face but held his gaze, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Well, I have a perfectly good couch. Or, if you play your cards right, get lucky, you could crash with me." She bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into him. "I'm really warm," she continued. "And cuddly."

Joe's laugh was low and deep, sending a thrill down her spine. "Is that right?" His gaze swept over her, lingering on her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. "I don't think I should." He shifted his position, the fabric of his shirt brushing against her bare arms. The coolness of the wall settled against her back as he stepped closer, a muscled arm reaching around her to place his drink on the windowsill beside her. "But maybe I could use a good cuddle," he teased. Instead of retreating to his side, his hand found her waist, his thumb brushing gently against the exposed skin of her midriff.

She felt a shiver of excitement. "Maybe," she echoed, her voice barely audible over the music. She leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation.

The room was spinning, but she wasn't sure if it was from the drinks or Joe's pull. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool, but her heart was racing. His lips twitched with a hint of a smile. "Why would you want me to stay in the first place?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek.

"Just because," she replied, her voice playful but laced with a hint of desire. She couldn't help the sigh that left her lips at the feeling of his skin on hers, her eyes dropping to his mouth before returning to his eyes.

"That's not a good reason," he hummed lowly, his hand sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. The room was a blur of colors and sounds, and she could feel the bass from the music pounding in her chest. His touch was surprisingly gentle despite the strength of his arms. "Which is a shame, because I'd love to stay."

Her breath hitched as Joe leaned in closer, his voice a warm caress against her ear. "I should go," he said, his hand dropping from her waist, his grip loosening. She felt a sudden coolness where his touch had been, and she realized she'd been holding her breath, waiting for his next move.

"Wait," she said, a hint of desperation in her voice as she reached out to stop him. Her hand found his bicep, feeling the firmness of his muscles under the softness of his skin. "Gimme your phone."

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "My phone? Why?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You know why," she replied, a gentle laugh bubbling up from her chest. She held out her hand, palm up, expecting him to just hand it over.

Joe looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "No, I don't think I do. You wanna tell me?" His voice was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness that made her heart race even faster.

"So I can get a better look at you," she murmured, her eyes tracing the strong line of his jaw. She knew she was being brazen, but the alcohol had loosened her inhibitions and the way he looked at her made her feel invincible. "When I'm sober."

Joe chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her with a playful eye roll. "Fine, but only if I get yours too," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

She grinned, handing over her own phone. "Fair trade," she murmured, watching as he took her device in his hands, making her phone look miniscule in his grasp. His thumbs danced over the screen with dexterity, and she couldn't help but wonder how those same fingers might feel on her skin.

"Okay," he said, handing it back. "Now I have your number. What's the plan?"

She mirrored his actions, their devices safely storing one another's numbers. She felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension as she took in the sight of the new contact in her phone. "No plan," she started, her eyes meeting his once more. "Just… maybe we could go out sometime?" The words slipping out before she could overthink them.

Joe looked at her, his blue eyes piercing through the haze of the party. He took a moment before nodding, his expression unreadable. "Maybe we could," he agreed, his voice low and heavy.

They stood in simmering tension, their eyes locked, for just a moment longer. Then, Joe took a step back, pocketing his phone. "I should get going," he said, his voice a touch rougher than it had been earlier. "But I'll call you?"

She nodded. "You better," she replied, trying to sound cool. "Drive safe. I'm expecting a text when you get to Columbus," her voice shook slightly as she felt herself drawn into a hug, his arms wrapping around her in a gentle embrace. The warmth of his body was intoxicating, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her as he leaned in and whispered into her ear, "See you soon."

I should've done it.

The text from Joe had lingered in her thoughts all week, a silent drumroll of anticipation in her mind. His admission that he should've done it, should've kissed her, had set her heart racing every time she read it. And now, here she was, in his kitchen, surrounded by the sweet aroma of pumpkin spice and the quiet hum of his oven preheating in the background. The room felt electrified as they baked together, a dance of open stares and stolen smiles, each waiting for the right moment to make their move.

"When it says fold in the cream cheese…" Joe began, his voice trailing off as his eyes darted from his iPad to her side profile. Her hands were busy, scooping the pumpkin mixture into white paper liners. His spatula hovered in the air, a dollop of cream cheese frosting threatening to drop onto the counter as a result of his hesitation.

"I thought you said you've done this before," she teased, briefly looking over to find his eyebrows scrunched together, his tongue darting over those pink lips she'd been dying to feel against hers.

Joe rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I have. It's just… this recipe is worded weird." His biceps flexed as he worked the spatula through the sugary mixture. With the cupcakes safely tucked into the oven, she stepped closer, peering at the screen over his shoulder, their bodies almost touching.

"It looks simple enough," she said, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper, her eyes darting from the recipe to Joe's.

"You're laughing at me," Joe accused, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. The prettiest splash of pink appeared on his cheeks.

She shook her head, pursing her lips together to hold back her laugh. "I'm not," she lied, attempting to avoid his eyes. "I swear I'm not."

"Well, if you're so confident, you do it." Joe stepped aside, offering her the spatula and the bowl of frosting. She took the challenge, shaking her head as laughter finally spilled from her lips. She dipped the spatula into the bowl, motioning for Joe to sift the powdered sugar as she folded the creamy goodness in on itself. The cool metal of the mixing bowl felt good against her fingertips, a welcoming reprieve from the heat that seemed to pulse through her every time she caught Joe's gaze.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her intently. She felt his eyes on her, and she couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Okay, hold the bag open. I'm gonna scoop the frosting in," she instructed, trying to keep her head clear of the looming kiss she knew was on the horizon. It was almost nausea inducing, the anticipation of finally feeling him close to her, tasting the sweetness of his lips for the first time.

The plastic crinkled in her hands as Joe took the spatula from her, scooping a generous amount of frosting into the bag. She held her breath, feeling the warmth of his body so close, the scent of him—a blend of clean laundry and the faint hint of his cologne—surrounding her. She watched his strong hands manipulate the bag, pushing the frosting into the piping tip with a gentle squeeze.

"I gotta wash my hands," she muttered under her breath, turning towards the opposite counter to hide her anxiousness. She hadn't been this nervous in years, not since her first kiss ever back in high school. The kitchen tap's cool water brought her back to reality, and she took a deep, steadying breath. When she turned back, Joe's back was to her, his tall frame silhouetted against the kitchen window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the scene.

Confusion melted into amusement as she watched him turn to face her, a spoon dipped into the bowl. He scraped at the leftover frosting, the silver utensil shining in the soft light. "Joe," she said with a laugh, "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that signature smirk that she had grown to adore. "Taste test." The spoon dipped into his mouth, and her heart skipped a beat as she watched his eyes close, savoring the flavor. "It's good," he murmured, opening his eyes to find hers locked on him. He dipped the spoon into the frosting again, offering it out to her. "You want to make sure we're not serving subpar dessert, right?"

Her stomach flipped, but she stepped closer, accepting the spoon with a nod. The creaminess of the frosting coated her tongue, the duality of the tang and sweet a delicious symphony in her mouth. She swallowed and nodded. "It's good. But I think I need another taste."

Joe's grin grew wider, his blue eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. "I figured you might," he said, scooping up more frosting. This time, when he offered it to her, she leaned in, closing the gap between them. The tip of her nose brushed against his, and she felt his breath warm against her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she waited for him to bring the spoon to her mouth.

But instead, he held it just out of reach. "What are you doing?" she murmured, a hint of laughter in her voice.

He didn't answer, simply hovering the spoon there. She could feel the tension building, a palpable force that made her lean in even further, her chest brushing against his. His eyes searched hers, looking for a sign, a silent question that she was ready to answer. And she was, more than she had ever been. Impatience bubbled up within her. She moved for the bowl, removing it from his grasp before she reached up, placing her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her.

Their kiss was tentative at first, a gentle brush of their lips that sent a jolt of electricity through her. She felt his hand, now rid of the spoon, come up to cup her face, his thumb stroking the soft skin there as their mouths opened slightly. The sweetness of the frosting mingled with the taste of him, a heavenly combination that she hadn't anticipated.

His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer, making her feel as if she were melting into him. Her hand slid from the nape of his neck into his hair, the soft golden strands mingling between her fingers. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if the weeks of unspoken tension were demanding their due. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, a beat that matched her own. The room around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in a warm, sugary bubble of newfound intimacy.

As they parted, breathless, Joe whispered against her lips, "I've been wanting to do that since the moment we met." Her heart swelled with joy, her pulse racing in her ears. She finally opened her eyes to meet his gaze. "Me too," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her knees felt weak, grateful for his arms still holding her close. She searched Joe's eyes, finding the same wonder reflected in the blue pools that had captured her from the start. They remained like that, frozen in the sweet moment, until the timer on the oven beeped, jolting them back to reality.

"Looks like our cupcakes are ready," Joe murmured, his voice low. He made no attempt to separate from her. The bite of his bottom lip and the flicker of his eyes to her lips saying everything he couldn't put into words.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she nodded, her hand still tangled in his hair. "We should check on them," she said, her voice unsteady.

Joe leaned in and kissed her again, this time with more confidence, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pressing her even closer. When they finally pulled away, she could see the hunger in his gaze, the desire that mirrored her own. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Cupcakes."

Joe was due to arrive any minute, and she couldn't help but feel a little nervous as she chewed at her bottom lip. Leah looked over from the open bathroom door, her grin widening as she saw her fidgeting. "You're so down bad for him," she teased, swiping a brush through her straight hair. "It's cute."

"I'm not down bad," she shot back, trying to keep her voice light as she straightened up from her laptop. "Just… excited for a chill night, you know?"

Leah stepped out of the bathroom. "Uh-huh, sure. Chill like Netflix and Chill?" She winked at her best friend, who rolled her eyes playfully. Just then, the doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the apartment. "And cue Mr. Ohio," Leah announced sarcastically.

Her heart skipped a beat as she walked over to the door. She took a deep breath, composing herself before swinging it open to reveal Joe, his tall frame filling the doorway. "Hi," she breathed out, trying not to sound too eager.

Joe looked her over with a smile, his eyes crinkling familiarly at the sight of her. He stepped in, his backpack sliding off his shoulder to thump onto the floor. Her eyes trailed over his tight, athletic body, and she felt a rush of heat to her face. He leaned in for a kiss, his lips pressing against hers gently before pulling away. "Where's Leah?"

Leah sauntered out of their bathroom, a wide smile on her face. "I'm about to leave for my family dinner. I'm honored you would ask, Joe," she said with a wink.

"I wasn't asking to be nice," Joe said, his sarcasm thick as he stepped aside for her to lock the door. "Usually I can hear you before I see you."

Leah chuckled before walking over to the couch, picking up her purse. "With ears like those, I'm sure you do, Burrow."

She curled into his side, breathing in his scent as she watched the two of them go back and forth. He was warm, the kind of warmth that seeped into her bones and made her feel safe. The kind she missed in his absence.

"Why don't you tell her to be nice to me?" Joe playfully complained, his hand soothing over her lower back as he pulled her closer.

Both she and Leah feigned identical offense. Even-toned gasps circling him from the two friends. "I like her just the way she is, Joseph," she said with a teasing squint of her eyes. "I'm already nice enough to you. She's here for balance, to keep you humble."

Leah giggled, reaching for her keys. "You got that right," she said, turning to Joe. "But I'll be out of your hair for the weekend. You two can do all the 'balancing' you want." With a knowing wink, she leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, a challenging glint in her eyes as she whispered, "Don't break him. He's expensive."

She laughed out loud, hugging her best friend tightly before she left. The moment the door clicked shut behind Leah, the air in the room shifted. The playful banter evaporated into a heavy silence filled with unspoken desires. She turned to Joe, her heart racing, and found him watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I was gonna order some food," she said, breaking the silence as she leaned up to kiss Joe again. He tasted faintly of mint, his stubble delightfully rough against her cheek.

"Sounds good," Joe murmured against her mouth, his hands slipping under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin against his palms. "I can put my bags away while you order."

She nodded, pulling away to lead him to her bedroom. "What do you feel like eating?" she asked, her legs crossing as she sat on the bed, focusing on the Uber Eats app. The room was bathed in soft light from the floor lamp, the scent of her favorite candle, vanilla and coconut, filling the space.

Joe set his bag down and began unpacking, his eyes lingering on the way her thighs looked bare and exposed against the plush comforter adorning her bed. "Whatever you want," he said distractedly, his words short with desire.

She took the opportunity to watch him as he pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing the tight muscles of his stomach. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was snug, showing off the curves of his biceps. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on his broad chest, the fabric stretching over the muscle there. She couldn't tell how long she had been staring for when he turned to her with a knowing smile.

"You good?" Joe asked, his eyes meeting hers, a smirk playing on his lips.

She nodded. "Yeah," she managed to say, her voice a little weaker. "Just… deciding."

His eyes focused on hers as he stepped closer to the bed. "Deciding?" He echoed her, his voice low and gravelly with need. "On food or…?"

She felt the heat of his body as he leaned over her, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. "Or?" she murmured, her hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw.

He didn't answer. Instead, his mouth found hers in a kiss that was anything but chaste. His hand found its familiar place, his tongue dancing with hers, tasting like the mint of his gum. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a sigh, feeling Joe's hands roaming her body, laying her back against the bed. The heat of his touch was like a brand, searing into her skin, leaving her desperate for more.

The solid wall of his chest pressed against hers as Joe's hand slid up the length of her thigh, delicately squeezing the soft skin under his palm. She gasped into his mouth, her hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss grew more urgent, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth, exploring and claiming every inch. His other hand found the hem of her shirt, slowly pushing it upward until it was discarded on the floor.

His head dipped to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she sighed, his touch sending delight down her spine. She felt the brush of his fingertips as he brushed over her bra, and the cool air hit her newly exposed skin. His thumbs traced the edge of the lace before his palms cupped her. She arched her back, pushing herself into his touch, a soft whine escaping her lips.

Joe's eyes were dark with lust as he broke the kiss, looking down at her. Her breath hitched, her thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settled between her legs. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone before moving to her chest, his mouth finding one of her nipples. He teased it with his tongue, swirling around the sensitive nub before sucking hard, eliciting a moan from her. She ground down on his thigh, her core pulsing with need.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. "I can feel how bad you want it," he murmured, his hand sliding down her stomach to pull at her shorts. She nodded, unable to form coherent words as his fingers danced over the fabric. Her hands shook as they pulled at the hem of his white shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin.

She sat up, moving to straddle him, and pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of him, all muscle and summer-tanned skin, took her breath away. She ran her hands over the expanse of his chest, her nails scraping gently against his skin, watching as his pupils dilated and his breath hitched. She leaned down, kissing a line from his collarbone, up the column of his throat, to his lips again. The tip of his cock nudged her through his shorts, and she could feel him twitch beneath her.

They kissed with an urgency that had been building for weeks, their breaths mingling as they explored each other's mouths. "What kind of condoms do you prefer?" She asked between kisses. "Durex, Trojan, Skyn?" Her voice faltered as his hands traveled down to cup her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. "I have a few sizes, just in case." Her back arched into him, a silent admission of his effect on her.

He rolled his hips against hers, his hands sliding down to her thighs, pushing her shorts down her legs. "Magnum?" she murmured against his lips, unable to hide the laugh in her voice.

Joe smirked. "Is that what you think?"

She shrugged, her voice thick with lust. "I like to be prepared."

Joe chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "You're something else, you know that?" He leaned back on his elbows, his abdomen contracting with the movement.

She reached over the side of the bed, her hand rummaging in the drawer of the nightstand. She pulled out a single condom, the gold wrapper glinting in the soft light. "Take your shorts off," she whispered as she sank down the bed. Her eyes held his gaze, her hands smoothing over his skin as he complied. The bulge in his boxers grew, and she licked her lips in anticipation. He groaned out as she kissed down his stomach, her mouth hovering just above the waistband of his boxers.

With a bite of her bottom lip, she tugged the condom from its wrapper. She took him in hand, stroking him gently before rolling the condom down his shaft. His cock was thick and hard, the latex stretching over his length. He watched her, his eyes dark with passion, as she straddled him again.

"God, c'mere," he growled, his voice thick with need. She complied, moving over him, her breasts brushing against his chest, the friction making them both gasp. He reached up to cup her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones as he kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers, tasting her. She could feel his length, the head of his cock nudging at her, begging for more.

Joe shifted their position with ease, his hands firm on her hips as he flipped her onto her back. He kissed her with a fierce hunger, his tongue plunging deep, as if he was trying to devour her whole. His fingers found her center, stroking it gently, and she gasped, her legs spreading wider to give him better access. The anticipation was driving her crazy, her body thrumming with need.

With a wicked grin, Joe reached for the lube she had left on the nightstand, flicking the cap open with a practiced ease. He slicked his fingers, watching her reaction as he slid one inside her. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as he moved it in and out, stretching her. She felt the blunt tip of his cock press against her, and she took a deep, shaky breath, ready for the moment she had been fantasizing about for so long.

"I need you," she murmured, her voice a desperate whisper against his lips. He leaned back, pulling at the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He took his time, the intensity of his gaze making her squirm with excitement. With one final tug, they were gone, leaving her bottom half fully exposed to him.

Joe took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, his eyes raking over her body with a hunger that made her feel powerful. He lined himself up with her opening, his cock nudging against her folds. She reached down, her hand guiding him in, feeling the tip of his cock push against her wetness.

He groaned, his eyes closing tight as he sank into her, inch by delicious inch. The pressure was incredible, stretching her in a way that made her toes curl. "Oh, fuck," she whispered, her head falling back against the pillow.

She felt filled to the brim with Joe, his cock pushing into her, filling her up, the sensation overwhelming. She tightened her grip on the bedspread, her eyes locked on his as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He took his time, savoring the moment, his movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes fluttered closed, her hips rising to meet his, urging him deeper.

When he was fully sheathed in her, Joe paused, his muscles tense with restraint. "You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

She nodded, her eyes still closed, her breathing ragged. "More than okay," she replied, her voice a low purr. "Just… don't stop."

Joe leaned in to kiss her again, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that made her moan. Each stroke was long and deep, filling her completely before pulling almost all the way out, leaving her gasping for more. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their muffled groans and sighs.

"Talk to me, baby, tell me how it feels," Joe murmured into her ear, his breath hot against her neck as he began to pick up the pace. His hand roamed over her thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist as he pushed into her harder.

"So good," she managed to gasp out, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. The intensity in his gaze sent waves of pleasure through her. "Joe, oh, Joe…"

He took her words as an encouragement, his pace increasing, his strokes growing more forceful. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet him, urging him deeper.

Their kisses grew sloppier, more desperate, as their bodies moved in tandem. The slick sound of Joe's skin smacking against hers grew louder, mixing with the quiet whimpers escaping from her throat. She could feel her orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly.

"Need your hands, Joey," she breathed out, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. She was so close, so fucking close, and Joe's cock was hitting all the right spots, but she needed more. She needed his touch on her clit, the sweet friction that would send her soaring over the edge.

Joe's eyes widened, his own need reflecting back at her, and he nodded. He reached down, his hand sliding over her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. His middle and ring fingers found her clit, the touch sending an electric current through her body. She arched up, her mouth opening in a silent cry as he began to rub in gentle circles.

"Mmhmm, like that," she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as Joe's skilled fingers worked her clit. The pleasure was building, each stroke pushing her closer to the precipice. Her body was tightening around him, her muscles clenching as she neared the peak. "Fuck, Joe, I'm so close."

Joe's breath was hot and heavy against her neck as he whispered, "Come for me, baby." His thrusts grew more urgent, his strokes inside her deep and sure. The pressure on her clit increased, the circles tighter, and she could feel the orgasm begin to crash over her.

"Oh god," she moaned, her hips bucking up to meet him, her muscles clenching around his cock. The waves of pleasure crashed into her, her body convulsing as she came hard. Joe's grip on her thigh tightened as she shuddered beneath him, pushing him over the edge.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breaths hot and uneven as he pumped into her, her orgasm milking him until he couldn't hold back anymore. With a final groan, Joe's body went rigid, his hips stuttering as he filled the condom with his release.

She felt the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her body as Joe collapsed onto her, his weight a comforting warmth. They laid there for a moment, panting, their hearts racing in sync. "So good," she murmured against his ear, her hands stroking his back, feeling the dampness of his skin.

He kissed the side of her neck, his breathing gradually evening out. "You're fuckin' amazing," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I LOVE YOU, january 2022.

Joe dreaded bye weeks. They were supposed to be a time to relax and recover from the grind of the NFL season, but they usually just left him feeling restless and out of place. He thrived on routine, and without practice or games to structure his days, he usually found himself aimlessly bored; itching to get back to the field.

This season’s bye week was different. For once, Joe had something to look forward to other than endless hours of film study and tedious brand meetings. He’d be spending it with her.

The drive from Cincinnati to Cleveland had been surprisingly therapeutic, the rolling hills and the changing colors of fall providing a picturesque backdrop to Joe's thoughts. He couldn't wait to see her, to bask in the warmth of her presence that always seemed to wash away the stress of his football-centered life. When he finally pulled into the apartment complex, he was beyond restless. A week of almost uninterrupted time together was a rare treat, and he had every intention of making the most of it.

It took all of one day for the two of them to slip into a good rhythm. The mornings were filled with the scent of brewing coffee and the hum of her getting ready for work at the hospital. Joe would linger in bed, watching her through half-closed eyes, admiring the way she moved with purpose and grace. He would attempt to convince her to stay home, to no avail, and eventually drag himself out of bed to drive her and Leah to the hospital for their shifts.

The rest of the daylight was his, to conquer the tasks he'd brought from Cincinnati, get a workout or two in at a local private gym, or explore the city on his own.

By the time the sun set, he was driving back to the hospital, eager to pick her up and hear about her day. Dinner plans involved the PDF meal prep instructions she insisted that he send over from his personal chef. Cooking with her was oddly relaxing, despite his usual preference for takeout or having someone else handle the kitchen. She took the lead, allowing him to chop and prep under her direction. The occasional touch of her hand on his, guiding him, or the way she would laugh at his insistence to follow a recipe-to-T filled him with a longing to feel this way more often.

At night, she would attempt to get some studying in while Joe answered his emails, warm, full, and happy. The need for sleep would overtake him before her, and he'd end up sprawled across the bed. His head resting snuggly against her sternum, her free hand softly scratching at his scalp. The sound of his deep, contented breaths soon lulling her to sleep as well.

This morning played out as it typically did. Joe was up early, making himself useful, brewing coffee and assembling her lunch box, while she slipped into her scrubs, packing her bag for the day, and applying touches of makeup here and there. The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the air filled with the scent of freshly brewed beans and the distant sound of the city coming alive.

"You know what we need?" She said, zipping up her bag on the couch. "A real coffee table."

Leah hummed out her agreement from the kitchen, where she was busy packing her lunch. "Definitely," she chimed in. Their "coffee table" was a stack of medical school textbooks balancing a metal tray courtesy of the UH Cleveland Medical Center cafeteria. It was functional but not exactly a real piece of furniture.

"I could get you one from Ikea," Joe said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a mission. "I've got the day to myself. Might as well do something useful."

Her eyes widened. "Babe, no. I can't ask you to do that. You're here to relax."

"Are you really refusing free labor?" Leah called out from the kitchen, a laugh in her voice. "When are we gonna have a chance to get one? If we’re not at the hospital, we’re studying or volunteering. Joe’s not doing much except for a couple of workouts and emails today anyway, right, Joe?"

Joe nodded faithfully, an overgrown curl bouncing with the movement. "Yeah, I've got nothing but time. You guys pick a table out and I’ll go get it."

She looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile she couldn’t quite hold back. "You do know that the nearest Ikea is in Columbus, right?"

Joe shrugged, handing her the packed lunch box with a kiss to her forehead. "It’s only two hours away, babe." Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, he added, "Let me do this for you. I really don’t mind."

Relenting with a sigh, she opened her laptop and navigated to the Ikea website. She clicked through the pages of sleek designs and minimalist furniture as Leah hovered over her shoulder. They settled on a simple table that they both thought would complement their living room.

"Alright," Joe said, clapping his hands together. "I'll drop you guys off and head down to Columbus. Send me the name of the table."

She rattled off the name and specifications of the coffee table they had chosen, and Joe typed them into his phone.

The day passed in a blur of activity and quiet moments. She and Leah accompanied their attendings on rounds and completed their first-year gruntwork. Meanwhile, Joe embarked on his solo trip to Columbus, reporting on his success to her through a series of photos and texts. By the time he arrived back in Cleveland, the sun was setting, painting the sky with oranges and pinks.

Her shift was almost over when she received a text from Joe.

Just got off the highway. Be there soon.

She couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of the surprise waiting for her. She and Leah had spent the day trying not to think about the coffee table, focusing on their patients and notes, but the anticipation had been bubbling beneath the surface all day.

When Joe finally pulled into the apartment complex, the car's headlights bouncing off the pavement, she and Leah exited first. They watched him unload the flat-packed furniture with surprising ease, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he maneuvered the heavy box. Leah nudged her best friend, whispering, "You’re drooling.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the warmth spreading through her chest. She loved Joe's willingness to go the extra mile, especially when it came to making her little apartment feel more like a home.

They brought the box into the living room and spread the contents onto the floor. Almost immediately, his eyes sharpened in focused intensity as he studied the instructions. She sat down on the floor with him, sipping a cup of tea, watching his concentration.

"Okay, so the first thing we need to do is assemble the legs," Joe said, holding up a bundle of wooden pieces.

She leaned over, her eyes scanning the instructions. "Are you sure? It looks like we should start with the tabletop."

“Babe," Joe said, pointing to a diagram. "It says legs first."

"But that doesn’t make sense," she protested, her finger hovering over a different step. "The legs won’t even stand without the base."

Joe raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his gaze. "Baby, trust me. I've put together Ikea furniture before."

"Your janky ass is gonna mess up my future coffee table if you keep going off-book," she teased, swiping the instructions from his hand.

Joe grinned, not at all deterred. "You love it when I improvise."

Their playful banter grew more intense as they worked, each insisting they knew better. The instructions lay forgotten between them, as they tried to piece the table together through sheer force of will.

"Burrow, please don’t fuck this up," she said, trying to keep a straight face as Joe held a wooden peg between his teeth, his hands occupied by trying to align the legs.

"I know what I’m doing," he shot back, his voice muffled by the mouthful of furniture.

She ignored him, squinting at the instructions she had rescued. "It says, 'insert peg A into slot B, then secure with screw C.'"

"I've got pegs and slots," Joe said, holding up two wooden pieces. "But where's screw C?"

She looked down at the instructions again. "It's right here." She reached for a tiny screw in a sea of plastic bags, her hand lifting to remove the wooden peg from between his teeth with a chuckle. "Here."

Joe took the screw with a grin, forgetting about the headache of the furniture for a moment. The words, "God, I love your bossy ass," slipped from his lips before he could catch them.

Her eyes snapped up to his, surprise and delight swirling in her gaze. Without a moment’s worth of hesitation, she replied, "I love your stubborn ass."

The room grew quiet, the tension palpable. They stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air. The warmth of the moment washed over Joe, a feeling he hadn’t anticipated feeling so deeply. He felt his heart swell with affection, his chest tightening as the reality of what they’d just confessed hit him.

She cupped the side of his face, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip, leaving a gentle caress. "You really do, huh?" He asked, pupils dilating slightly as his eyes searched hers.

"Yeah," she said, voice soft. "I really do."

The air grew thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings. Joe set the screw down and took her hand, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap, the coffee table pieces forgotten around them. Her arms settled over his shoulders, fingers finding the softness of his hair. He caressed her waist, pulling her into him. The kiss was tender, a gentle acknowledgment of the love that had been simmering between them for months.

"Say it again," he whispered against her lips, his voice soft with wonder.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I love you, Joe Burrow."

Joe's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. "And I love you."

"You guys just managed to squeak out a win tonight. I know Joe has emphasized having, quote: 'no room for excuses' all season. But there isn't much time to dwell on the mistakes when you're in the middle of a playoffs run. So, how will you make sure that he stays focused on the next game, instead of dwelling on the imperfections of this one?" The reporter's voice was sharp, cutting through the buzz of the press room as Zac Taylor took a sip of his water.

Zac leaned into the podium, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Well, you know, Joe's a perfectionist. That's what makes him so great at what he does. But I'm not too worried about his focus, he knows better than anyone what's at stake. His girlfriend will be in town the next few days. I'm sure she'll keep him grounded."

The room went silent for a beat, and then the air was ablaze with the clicking of keyboards and murmurs of surprise. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the livestream on her phone, her hand tightening around it. She was sitting in the back of her Uber, her eyes darting up to the driver who chuckled at the head coach's words. "Grounded? Busy's more like it," the middle-aged man commented. When she asked him if it was alright to listen to the post-game press conferences, he had been more than enthusiastic. Now, she wished she had just waited until she was in the comfort of Joe's home.

Her phone buzzed with notifications, and she knew that the dam had broken. She had seen it before with other athletes and their significant others, the sudden rush of interest that could either elevate or destroy reputations. It was the price of his fame, but she hadn't been prepared for it to be her reality. Not like this. The Uber pulled up to the house, and she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before walking through the door.

Joe's brother, Dan, was the first to reach out to her from his family. "Well, looks like the cat's out of the bag," his text read, followed by a series of laughing emojis and a screen recording of Zac's slip-up. She couldn't help but chuckle despite her nerves. She replied with a simple "Yeah, guess so."

As she stepped out of the car, she saw Joe's text light up her screen. "Zac sends his apologies. You okay?" He was always considerate, even in the midst of his own chaos. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "Yeah, tell him thanks a lot." Her thumb hovered over the screen for a beat before he read her mind, "We'll talk when I get home. Don't worry about it."

Joe arrived just as his parents came through the front door. Jimmy and Robin were similarly in town for the game, but their presence was less newsworthy than hers. The four of them greeted each other with the kind of relief that comes after a nail-biter of a match. Inside, the living room was a warm cocoon of familiarity, a stark contrast to the impersonal press room where the Bengals' PR team was forced to shut down any attempts at confirming Joe's relationship status, per his request.

"Cat's outta the bag, kid," Jimmy laughed deeply, a comforting side hug enveloping her. "You're a champ, though. You two'll handle it."

"I'm sure Joe already has a million and one solutions for handling this," Robin said with a knowing smile, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "But if you need anything, anything at all, just let us know."

She managed a smile, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. "Thanks, I'll be okay," she replied, her voice sounding more assured than she felt.

After his parents left for their room, Joe turned to her with a concerned expression. "I'm sorry, I know we both wanted to keep this private for as long as we could." His voice was gentle, the blue eyes she had come to love looking into hers for reassurance. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hands gently rubbing his back as she leaned her head against his chest.

"It's okay," she murmured, taking a deep breath in of his scent. "It had to come out eventually."

Joe sighed, stroking over her hair. "I just don't want it to mess with your career. Or your peace of mind." He gathered his thoughts for a moment before speaking up again. "I signed up for this life, not you. It's not fair to throw you into this mess."

She pulled away slightly, looking up at him. "I know what I'm signing up for, Joe. We've talked about this." She paused. "As long as you're okay with it, and we can keep some parts of us just for us, I think I can handle it."

Joe nodded, his gaze searching hers. "You're sure?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm sure."

The moment showed itself weeks later in Kansas City. She was a nervous wreck, the Arrowhead stands were a sea of red and black, the Chiefs' colors, but there was a noticeable splatter of Bengals' orange and black jerseys. Amongst them, she stood out in her Burrow jersey, her hair in loose waves that fell over her shoulders, her makeup intentionally flawless.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the national anthem played, a mix of excitement and dread swirling in her gut. This was it. The hard launch. She'd been preparing for this moment since Joe had asked her to be with him at the game. He'd been adamant that she be part of the victory, should they win.

When the confetti came floating down from the sky, signaling the Bengals' victory, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The game had been a nail-biter, and she had been on the edge of her seat for the entire four quarters. The families of the players were being ushered down to the field, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

She spotted Joe, surrounded by his teammates, a look of pure elation etched on his face. He saw her and broke away from the celebration, his stride long and purposeful as he approached her. She couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on them, even as the cameras were still swarming the players and coaches.

She stepped aside as he greeted his family first, the love and pride on their faces palpable even amidst the deafening roar of the stadium. Then his eyes focused on her. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering words of gratitude and love into her ear. The warmth of his body and the words spilling from his lips brought a smile to her face. This was their moment, the one she had agreed to share with him, despite the impending storm of media attention.

The cameras clicked and whirred, a cacophony of flashes piercing the air. She felt a tremor of fear as Joe leaned down to kiss her, his lips pressing gently against hers. It was a declaration, a public affirmation of their relationship, and she knew it would be the image plastered across social media in a few short minutes.

"Leah has another year of residency, right?" Joe asked through a mouthful of popcorn as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

She looked up from her laptop, where she was typing away at her Google Calendar. "Yeah, why?" she replied, curiosity lacing her voice.

"Has she started looking for a new roommate yet?" Joe's question was casual, but the way he chewed his popcorn betrayed a hint of nervousness.

She paused, a frown furrowing her brows. "Why would Leah be looking for a new roommate?" She knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to ease into a conversation he didn't quite know how to start.

Joe swallowed hard. "Well, I just figured, you know, with your residency ending soon, you'd be moving in with me."

She stared at him, the silence in the room thickening like the humidity before a storm. "Moving in with you?" she echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion. "Joe, we've never talked about that."

Joe looked taken aback, his hand pausing mid-air with a piece of popcorn. "You mean, you didn't… I just assumed, with us being in a serious relationship and all…" His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

She felt a twinge of annoyance. "Joe, assuming is not the same as asking," she said firmly, closing her laptop. She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know I have connections in Cleveland. It's where I planned on starting my career after my residency."

Joe's eyes widened, his grip on the popcorn bowl tightening. "You never mentioned that," he said, his voice low and defensive.

"Because you never asked," she laughed incredulously, shaking her head. "You can't just assume I'll drop everything and move in with you. I have a life and a career, too."

Joe's face fell, the weight of her words sinking in. "I didn't mean it like that, babe," he said, setting the bowl down and approaching her. "I just thought, with us being together…"

She raised a hand to stop him. "You thought, you assumed. That's not how this works, Joe," she said, her voice steady. "We need to communicate, especially about big decisions like this." She took a deep breath, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over.

Joe's shoulders rose with tension. "Well, I'm asking now," he said, his voice tight. "Move in with me."

She sighed, her eyes searching his. "Joey, It's not that simple," she replied, her voice softer. "I've worked hard for this. I have plans, honey. I don't want to just uproot everything because you expect me to follow you around."

"Follow me around? Babe, I don't expect that," Joe said, his voice rising slightly. "I just thought we could be together more, especially since you're going to be done with your crazy hours at the hospital. You could focus on studying for your Boards without worrying about rent and all that."

Her eyes narrowed. "I can handle paying rent, Joe," she said, her voice even. "I don't need you to take care of me. That's not what I want out of this."

Joe took a step back, his expression a mix of surprise and hurt. "I never said you couldn't handle it," he retorted. "I just thought it would be easier for you."

She felt the tension in the room thicken, the air charged with unspoken words. "Easier for me, or easier for you?" she asked, her voice measured.

Joe's eyes searched hers, trying to gauge her emotions. "What does that mean? You think I want you to be dependent on me?"

Her voice remained calm. "I don't know. Do you?"

"No? Why would I want you to be dependent on me?" Joe said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I just want us to be together, babe. We've been together for almost three years. I thought we were on the same page."

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words. "Joe," she sighed, touching his arm. "I love you, but my career is important to me. I can't just leave it all behind because it's more convenient for you."

Joe's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping. "I know," he mumbled. "It's just that… I don't know, I guess I've been thinking about it for a while. When I'm on the road, all I want is for you to be there, waiting for me in our home. It's selfish, I know. But it's hard being apart like this."

Her heart softened at the vulnerability in his voice. She stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek. "Joey," she said gently. "Why didn't you just open with that?"

Joe looked up, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't know how to," he admitted. "It's just, you're all I think about. I just want to come home to you every night."

She felt a pang of guilt. "Joe," she said softly, "I feel the same way, but that doesn't mean we should rush into something this big."

"Then, what do you need from me?" Joe asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "I need you to understand that this is my career we're talking about. I've spent years working up to this moment," she said, her thumb gently brushing against his chin. "I don't want to lose the part of me that's worked so hard to get here."

Joe nodded slowly. "Okay."

She studied him, looking for any signs of anger or frustration, but all she saw was the raw, honest love that had brought them this far. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room begin to ease. "I don't need you to fix everything," she whispered. "Don't try to pay off my loans or buy me a new car. I want us to build together, on equal terms."

Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Okay," he said again, his voice stronger this time. "I get it. I just… I don't want to lose you."

Her heart swelled with affection. "You won't, baby," she assured him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Do you want to ask me again?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Joe took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "Will you move in with me?" he asked, his voice sincere.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest. She knew Joe was trying, really trying, to understand her perspective. She took a moment before responding. "I would love to."

[girlsworldillusion]

Game Over 🎮

Gamer!Aemond - Fem!Reader

Summary: After putting in the effort to create the perfect romantic night, your plan comes crashing down like a house of cards when your boyfriend dumps you for games.

How far will a girl go before she takes matters into her own hands?

Rated: Explicit (+18)

(Bjob, semi-public sex, praise kink and others)

Word count: 6k

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Enjoy!

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

You snort for the tenth time as hear a bored laugh coming from down the hall.

Fingers drum impatiently on the edge of the bed, a fat pout projecting on your lower lip. Having long since given up on the purposefully suggestive pose on top of the soft silk sheets, you now find yourself sitting upright and very sullen amidst the romantic decor of the room.

With each muffled word coming from your boyfriend's office you feel your mood sour further, the irritation in your nerves increasing to worrying levels.

Aemond wasn't the kind of guy who played games regularly; God knows he's too selfish and perfectionist to be a decent team player. And he barely had any free time to indulge in hobbies and vices anyway. Despite having a complete setup in his personal office with everything a gamer could dream of, he spent very little time cultivating such a habit. Usually only indulging when he was feeling too stressed about work or his family, or when he was absolutely bored.

He didn’t usually care for games. And that’s why you feel even more frustrated by the second. Of all the nights he could have had the unexpected urge to play, did it have to be the night you had planned something special for the both of you?

The soft, delicate lace of your new pastel pink lingerie set teases your skin almost mockingly at this point, the long stockings on your thighs rubbing against each other as you swing one leg over the other in exasperation. The high heels were thrown haphazardly into the corner of the room during the little bout of impatience you had a few minutes ago.

The scented candles you had chosen for the night still burn softly in your peripheral vision, illuminating the room with warmth and romance, the delicate scent of vanilla permeating the air like a seductive invitation. On the bedside table was a bottle of his favorite wine, two glasses neatly arranged next to it.

This was supposed to be a romantic night.

As soon as you saw him casually enter the office a few hours ago, presumably to privately answer some video call from a work client, you ran and locked the bedroom door, preparing everything as quickly as you could to surprise him. Excitement ran freely through your veins, heating your skin to moisten the valley between your legs with anticipation. When you finished arranging everything as best you could, you opened the door invitingly and threw yourself on the bed, acting out what you hoped was a sensual and innocent pose at the same time.

But time passed and Aemond didn't show up.

It was only when you heard the first muffled murmurs of 'all right, I'll cover your left' and 'are you stupid or what? How hard can it be to hit that damn target?' that you realized what he was really doing in the office. But despite the small wave of disappointment, you tried to be level-headed about it. Playing games wasn't something that bothered you at all, but tonight you felt a specific need that only Aemond could fulfill.

You decide to be patient, though, after all he wasn't in the habit of playing games - maybe he just needed a single round to de-stress from the day.

But the minutes passed and what was a single round became two, three; each lasting an average of 30-40 minutes. And here you were, almost two hours later, still waiting.

You had enough!

This was absolutely ridiculous. No one in an adult relationship should spend that much time waiting for some attention - especially when they were losing attention to a damn game.

With a frustrated sigh, you rise from your position on the bed and march towards his office, determined to give him a piece of your mind. Your steps are deliberately heavy as you walk through the living room and into the hallway until you reach his door, where you listen for a few seconds, breathing enough to control the worst of your nerves, but after hearing the same regular tapping on the controller and grumpy responses, you slowly push the door open.

Peeking your head into the room, you see him in front of his setup, playing what looks like some kind of first-person shooter.

The room, as always, smells of cigarette smoke and clean leather, the soft hum of the air conditioning welcoming you - the familiarity enveloping your body in a blissful way that you didn't want at the moment. Your eyes try to focus on surroundings, as the only illumination comes from the purple and blue hues emanating from the sophisticated setup. With his back to you, in his big, comfortable chair, your boyfriend was sitting as if nothing else in the world mattered, with the joystick in his hand and his eye glued to the monitor, mumbling lazily here and there to the chaotic chat of the server.

And seeing him there, carefree and oblivious to all the effort and expectation you had put into this night - into him - made you rethink your course of action for a minute. A thought suddenly crossed your mind.

You were still hurt and frustrated, but maybe giving him a piece of your mind wasn't your only option at the moment.

You walked across the room slowly, but stopped before did what you were thinking.

You mean, were you really about to do that? What, were you really going to act like a hormonal teenager now?

Your body suddenly started moving on its own, mind screaming at you to stop.

Your irritation eases slightly as you admire the outline of his toned, bare back (why the hell is he shirtless anyway?) looming in your line of vision, the way his muscles flex as he leans forward in his black gaming chair, pale, smooth skin illuminated by the purple and blue lights of the setup. He’s wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants and black socks on his feet, and the sight of his broad shoulders and long, muscular arms completely exposed makes your mind wander in a sinful direction.

Maybe your night wasn’t wasted.

Your steps are almost catlike as you advance slowly, silent and focused, taking in his furrowed brows, his devastatingly handsome face with that serious, focused expression, silver hair pulled back into a half-bun — smoke curling up from the cigarette resting in the ashtray on the table.

Aemond hums a vague acknowledgement as you enter his line of sight, his bored gaze flicking from the monitor to you for just a second before returning to the game - but quickly returning to you when he actually notices what you’re wearing.

It’s hard not to get a little carried away when that turquoise blue eye slides across the planes of your body like melted butter; greedy over the thin, nearly sheer bralette on your breasts, the curve of your waist, your cute panties and the lace stockings that come up to your mid-thighs.

“Baby, what the—” he breathes hoarsely, lips parted and brows heavy over his gaze - even his thumbs stop twirling over the buttons on his controller. But you’re both interrupted by a sudden stream of complaints and curses coming from his headset, the volume clear and loud enough for you to hear clearly. Aemond growls. “Fuck, shut your mouth - I’m still here.” And just like that his attention slips from you to the game again, his expression returning to those same disinterested, serious lines from before - but you notice a stiffening in his shoulders that wasn't there before, as if he's on alert now.

You hold on tight to it so his lack of attention doesn’t shake you, trying to solidify your plan as you move. Your hands grip the sides of his chair, using the wheels to help you push it back a few inches. He sends you a sharp, narrow look, shifting between you and the screen, as if he knows exactly what’s on your mind. With a mischievous smile and more determination now, you ignore his warning, slipping innocently into the space between the chair and the table, kneeling between his legs.

“No, the shooter’s on your right.” He mumbles into the mic, sounding more sullen now that his attention has been compromised, but still stubbornly trying to stay focused on the game. You lean forward with a naughty smile, gently sniffing the bulge of his cock trapped in his sweatpants, a whimper rising in your throat when you realize he’s already hard — no doubt an instinctive reaction to understanding your intentions. God, how did this man make you so heated with so little effort?

Your teeth tug playfully at the drawstring of his pants. The muscles in his stomach contract beautifully in response and you sigh, turning your head to rub your cheek against his cock, like a kitten begging for attention.

He’s fully hard now and there’s a thrill in your belly, warm and dark, knowing he’s this way for you — just by you being there, breathing near him, barely touching him properly.

Your lashes flutter heavy over your eyes as you stare without qualms; the soft seam of his sweatpants over a bulge that makes your body tremble with anticipation, burn so much that you’re not sure if you’re breathing anymore.

His cock is thick and hard beneath the gray fabric, big and — stupidly big — so big — over his hip.

“Don’t do that,” he warns in a low tone.

You smile innocently. “Do what, love?”

He growls in his throat, your attitude clearly coiling inside him, making his cock throb beneath your touch. “You won’t be able to walk properly for a week, girl.”

You hum softly, pretending you didn’t hear his threat as untie the laces of his sweatpants to pull the waistband down. Aemond makes no move to help you, stubborn as he's, but you don’t need it. Your grin deepens, glad to be able to lower the elastic enough to free his cock.

“Does it look like I spoke to any of you idiots?” He’s actually more impatient now, dishing out rudeness in the server chat when they question his latest suspicious statement.

You sigh, salivating for him more every time you see his cock — all long and thick, outlined with prominent veins and a shiny flushed head, dripping with precum. Your eyes meet for a moment of distraction from the game, you sugary and full of malicious intent and he suspicious and grumpy - but the anxious twitch in his cock deflates any possible claim that this isn't turning him on in some way.

Let him pretend all he wants, you think with an innocent smile and a slow bat of your eyelashes, sliding your fingers down the hard, pulsing length, slick with the arousal dripping from the tip; a small fist clenched, down and then up, twisting over the head - and then your mouth comes close, spitting a glob of saliva right over it. Pre-come, sweet, warm, sticky saliva as you drag your fist down the tip to the base before repeating. More pre-come.

He shifts in his chair, teeth biting into his lower lip, large, beautiful hands gripping the controller so tightly that the stupid thing squeaks between his fingers. And then you come close; the heated puff of your breath against the base of his cock, your eyes watery and lazy, face flushed and teasing.

And the first swipe of your tongue over him has his abs clenching like a vise, a sharp growl from his chest as you suck him, a little unsteady from the position but so fucking eager that he’s physically incapable of not noticing your effort.

You chase the head of his cock with your mouth as he tries to tilt his hips, your knees shaking as you sink a little to reach him, to close your mouth around him and suck him. One hand instinctively relinquishes its grip to tangle in a fistful of your hair, hips bucking upward as he huffs a ‘fuck baby’; your eyes fluttering and your chest shuddering with a little groan of own, like it’s as good for you as it is for him.

And it is.

'Shit, what's going on man?! I can't believe you missed that one!' Someone complains loudly in the chat.

He just grunts in response, realizing he can't play with just one hand, so he reluctantly puts it back in control. You let out a small chuckle at the length between your lips, happy to see him struggle so much, your right hand resuming the slide of his shaft that your mouth can't reach.

You pull out until only the head of his cock is in your mouth, tongue sliding over it; hand sliding your fist over the spit sheen on his shaft, slick and slow, pushing your lips back until he's nudging the back of your throat and you're breathing hard as keep thrusting and swallowing, keep trying so hard to relax more.

You've never particularly enjoyed giving blowjobs in your previous relationships, but Aemond has elevated the act to something almost sacred; you loved having this kind of power over him, feeling him get harder and harder on your tongue, making him go crazy with desire until he couldn’t control himself anymore. Your pussy clenches in response, the cute panties absolutely ruined by now.

“Can you guys just shut the fuck up for a second? Like I haven’t been carrying this team on my back since the beginning anyway. Fuck all of you.” He growls into the chat, breathing hard between words, undulating his hips discreetly into your mouth - pushing his cock an inch deeper and deeper into your mouth. His gaze is icy and electric as he looks down at you, a dangerous warning shining there, an implicit threat that you’ll regret pushing him this way.

The server chat erupts with denial and curses, but you barely listen, too focused on continuing teasing him; especially now, feeling how his restraint begins to crack and tremble. You pull away with a sticky strand of saliva still connecting you to the head of his cock, using his knees as support to stand up and sneakily settle yourself on top of his legs.

"You're acting like a spoiled brat." He breathes at the corner of your lips as you bring your face closer, anxious and trembling body falling into his lap.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble back, heart racing at the darkness in his turquoise gaze, the other half of his face torn and eternally marked by the jagged scar only adding danger to that warning bite in his expression. With almost too eager fingers you smooth the muscles in his abdomen, moving up to feel the hard ridge of each one until you reach his shoulders.

He breathes heavily, but keeps his eye on the monitor as he violently presses the poor buttons on the joystick, waging a proud war to keep himself away - but you are nothing if not determined.

It takes just a second to admire the milky, soft expanse of his neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then your warm, wet lips are there; covering his skin with soft kisses and bites, sucking slowly between your teeth and licking it afterwards, making him gasp softly and bite his lip, reluctantly tilting his head to offer you more of him. 

You breathe out a smile before leaning back on his knees, letting his gaze slide greedily down your body. To the soft peaks of your breasts half-visible in that thin bralette, the valley of your belly to the dip of your little belly button, and finally to your hips beginning to undulate sensually over his. His cock, as hard and wet as it is, leaves a trail of arousal and sticky saliva on his lower belly and you blush at the sight of the mess he’s making.

You shiver as you feel that same thick wetness of his cock drag against your pussy through your lacy panties, pushing and pushing the swollen tip against your clit until you let out a series of short, sharp gasps. With eyelashes flutter and your eyebrows furrow at the sensation, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you continue to grind your clit against his throbbing cock.

'Wait, wait, what’s that?' you hear someone ask through his headset, but your mind is too far gone to stop now. Little fingers hook into the soft crotch of your pantie for just a moment before you pulls it aside, letting your scalding, drooling pussy rub directly against his hard shaft. Your moan is louder this time, more brazen too. 'What the fuck—are you watching porn while you play, your fucking pervert?' A player in the chat asks with a mocking, mischievous laugh, and in the middle of pushing your needy folds onto his cock, you watch Aemond smile back - sharp, icy, dangerous.

“Much better than that, fucker.” His voice changes to something rougher, something demanding and wicked, and you push yourself against him a little harder, your temperature rising, and you moan. “My girl is needy tonight.”

The chat becomes chaotic again, bursting with dirty laughter and snide comments that would offend you any other time — and maybe Aemond thinks the same, because you see his jaw clench once, his eye cold and his lips pressed together in that way he does when he’s not satisfied with something.

But something keeps him going, keeps him pushing harder.

Quietly he drops the controller to the table, relinquishing his participation in the game, sliding his headset down to hang loosely around his neck. And you can’t breathe. Your heart is pounding, so hard you’re surprised you can’t see it when look down at your chest.

“You wanted my attention, baby. Well, now you have it. And theirs too.” He smiles teasingly at you, his gaze dark and intent on yours, even though the game is still going on the monitor right behind you. "How about we put on a little show for these fucking losers?"

The chat seems to fall into a deliberate silence as he speaks, as if everyone is waiting to hear the outcome of this bizarre and absolutely wild situation.

"I can smell your pussy," he continues when you don't respond, his voice a growl. "I can smell how wet you are." He leans down to nibble on your earlobe, sucking on the lobe before nuzzling into the soft hollow just below it. You think he's exaggerating, he couldn't really smell you, could he? But the room is filled with colored lights, smelling of cigarette smoke and leather, and his cock is brushing against your clit and you really don't know what to think. "Hm, what do you say...want to give these horny nerds something interesting to jerk off to, princess?"

You shouldn’t agree, but you’re moaning before you know it, nodding as your cheeks explode with heat.

“That’s my babygirl - take this cock then,” he whispers to you, filthy and shameless, picking up the cigarette resting on the ashtray to draw slowly. Aemond slides his other hand up your thigh, stroking the soft lace of your stockings. “Fuck yourself on it until you cum,” he tells you, and only the sharp gaze locked on yours keeps you from rolling your eyes back in, not even the acrid puff of smoke near your face distracting you at this point. “Make me open you up, brat. Make my cock all sticky and heated with your pussy.”

He sounds so honest when he says it and yet so rough around the edges, like he’s punishing you somehow — though you don’t quite understand how yet.

Your fingers are shaking as you grip him by the base, lifting your hips to start thrusting him inside.

You keep it slow and steady, the first few inches aching and too tight as always; staring down between your bodies, his thick, glistening cock stretching you open as you suck him inside. He continues to smoke his cigarette leisurely, watching you from beneath one half-lidded eyelid, leaning back in the chair like a king as you work your pussy into him, inch by tight inch. Feeling the tremble of your thighs, the shiver in your body; those first few inches that always feel like he don’t fit, like you’re stretched too much, like you’re too small—

He runs his other hand down your side, down over the tightness of your stomach, hearing you gasp, moan at the stretch, the ache, the way he sinks deeper and deeper. Watching the heave of your breasts, the exasperated, rising intake of breath that turns into something else when your hips finally press against his. Buried so deep and thick inside your walls that he can’t hold back his own noise; hoarse and broken, escaping his lips along with a swirling hiss of cigarette smoke.

You exhale his name, the softest, shakiest Aemond — as your body inevitably begins to relax, as if it doesn’t matter the stretch, the pain, the depth…because just having him inside you, embedded so deeply, is exactly what it needs.

Your delicate palms rest on the broad planes of his chest and he sighs — his hips pulse inside you, just a small push upward, a small movement and you tense, a sharper noise falling from your lips. He tilts his head to the side with lazy interest, grinding his hips against yours again, enjoying the sounds that come from your mouth, the way it opens to suck in a garbled breath.

“You know, I never knew you had it in you, baby…an exhibitionist streak like that,” his heated murmur is dark and full of depraved promise. “I’ll give you that, though, you really know how to get a man’s attention.”

Your breathing is rapid despite your best efforts. He presses his palm to your throat, curling his fingers slowly, squeezing just enough to hear a small hiccup of inspiration, your toes curling against the sides of his thighs...

“Where’s that smart mouth now? My pretty baby girl’s gone so quiet all of a sudden.” He murmurs with a mischievous grin, clamping the cigarette between his teeth to grip your hips, pulling your body to his in obnoxiously slow undulations.

Even though it’s draped around his neck, the voices coming from the headset are still loud enough for both of you to hear; a cacophony of whistles and disbelieving laughter.

“Come on,” he says, picking up the cigarette again to toss it into the ashtray. He pulls you closer and wraps both hands around your hips, staring into your glassy eyes. “Go ahead and ride me.”

You bite your bottom lip, leaning more firmly against his chest as you begin to grind against his cock, little mewls escaping your lips, ass slapping rhythmically against his hips.

'Holy shit, are they really doing this?' Someone ask shrilly in the chat, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment — your movements stuttering for a moment. This — this wasn’t right, was it? You couldn’t just fuck while these strangers listened. This wasn’t right.

“Don’t stop,” Aemond growled, pulling your chin up so you could look him in the eye and see that he meant business. “Keep riding my cock like a good girl. Let them hear you. Let them fuck their own pathetic dicks while they listen to me fuck your pussy until you cry. Let them be so fucking envy of me, because I have the cutest and naughty girl in the world. Can you do this?”

You look up at him with beautiful doe eyes, lashes fluttering as you nod yes, leaning in to kiss him. Aemond takes you in immediately; soft, warm lips on yours, wet tongue sliding across yours and you taste cigarettes and mint gum. You moan louder as he plants his feet on the floor, thrusting up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him even as the impact makes you bounce on his lap. It’s so damn hot in the room, the two of you electric and heated. Your whimpers and sobs grow louder and louder, matching the rhythm of your hips undulating more and more into his.

‘Oh shit, she sounds so fucking good…’ you barely hear the comment through his headset, eyes rolling back in pleasure with each deep thrust of his thick cock into your pussy.

"Yes, she does." Aemond hums, gripping your hips tighter, guiding you easily, and you feel yourself getting closer, but there’s something missing — an incentive to push you over the edge.

You rest a hand on his thigh, fisting the soft sweats of his pants, tilting your body and head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. He watches you hungrily, leaning back in his chair — though he looks like he wants to jump on top of you. The purple and blue lights illuminate you both in a flattering, almost artistic way; highlighting his silver hair in that messy half-bun, the soft planes of your breasts, the definition of the muscles in his arms and abs — your pussy swallowing his cock with wet, greedy sounds…

Your hips roll at a feverish pace, the head of his cock slamming perfectly into your soft walls and you moan as the hand on your left hip moves slightly until he’s flicking his thumb over your clit.

Fuck yes. He knows you so well. 

“Oh f— fuck. You feel so good, you feel so good...” You mumble, hips moving faster, the chair audibly creaking with the force of your thrusts.

“Yeah? It must be really fucking good if you can barely wait a few hours before acting like a brat for that cock, huh?” Aemond runs his tongue over his teeth, taking his time to tease your clit as you bounce up and down, sending you a hooded, hungry look as he continues, “But I can’t deny that you look so cute when act like a little slut for me, when you let me use you however I want, drunk on my cock and hungry for cum like the good whore you are. I fucking love it. Come on, take me, fuck me, show me how much you want this.”

Moaning loudly, your widened knees nipping at his hips, you nearly come at those words alone — eyes rolling back with an open mouth.

“Greedy brat…”

“Y-your greedy brat—” 

“My brat.” He growls approvingly, thrusting his hips deep into yours, steadily building that tension in you again, knotting your belly.

Your head falls forward and you watch him smile and bite his lip as thrusts into you again and again and again. Your own hips struggle to keep up with his punishing pace, even though you’re the one on top. His thumb moves as ruthlessly as his cock — a quick, easy rhythm at times, a drastic shift into a languid thrust at others; a torturous pace that somehow wipes all thought from your eternally thoughtful brain.

By now, your mind is so clouded and focused on the pleasure he’s giving you that you no longer understand anything the other players are saying over the server chat. But you know they’re still there. A staticky blur of what sounds like compliments to you, declarations of envy to Aemond, and even a few muffled sounds of pleasure. None of it matters, though. Nothing but the man beneath you.

“That’s it, beautiful. Are you going to cum on my cock, baby?” He whispers, his voice thick with lust as you grind against him relentlessly, head thrown to the side and mouth open, letting sweet sounds fall from your lips.

You can feel the heat emanating from him, the intensity growing by the second.

“Aemond…so close…” You gasp, body shaking uncontrollably.

“Cum for me, baby…scream my name, let them know who’s fucking you, who’s the only one who can fuck you.” He demands, his cock and thumb never stopping their relentless assault on your most sensitive spots. Every inch up drags his cock against those nerves inside your walls. Every inch down keeps you full and exploding with him, there’s no release, no edge to be found, it’s just pleasure, cigarette smoke and the heat of his body.

"Aemond!"

You build so stellarly, so intensely, it almost feels like you’re building up in your mouth, that sticky, warm sweetness. The sensation burns behind your belly button, sinks between your hips, tingles in your pussy, pulses in your clit against your stomach, until your fingers are shaking, white and slick on his shoulders and his mouth is on your neck as you fall forward, writhing and moaning.

And still, he keeps working you, well past that limit, keeping you so full of him, so focused on him, that there’s nothing else in the world but his skin, his cock, his voice in your ear.

“That’s it, that’s it. Come on, pretty girl.”

And you do. Choked sobs into his skin. A toe-curling, thigh-trembling release, clenching around the thickness of his cock.

As he promised, tears flash in your eyes at the sheer intensity of this orgasm, and you sniff pathetically into his neck.

“Mmm, such a crybaby…” he scoffs, but still wraps his arms around your body, hugging you tightly as he pounds his hips into yours, panting wetly into your shoulder and neck. “You’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard with that cute little cry and that pussy squeezing my cock over and over…”

A strangled moan escapes your throat.

“Y-yes, please—inside Aem, cum inside me, please, I need it!” You can feel him shudder in response, his tip buried against your cervix.

“That’s my greedy girl.” There’s a ghost of a kiss on your neck. “I fucking love this, baby. I fucking love you.”

You sob and he thrusts into you again, his hips slamming into your thighs with so much impact you’re sure you’ll bruise. He grips you flush against his body, stopping inside you with one deep thrust, slowly spilling hot streams of thick cum into your pussy as he pants harshly in your ear. Your body feels like it’s vibrating, wracked and claimed.

You’re panting, chest rising and falling against his, bites and hickeys beginning to bloom across your exposed skin. You’re pleasantly gorged on his seed, high on the rush of endorphins and satisfaction that washes over you.

“Hey losers,” Aemond mumbles into the mic after a while, a ghost of a smile on his lips and a wicked glint in his eye, “try not to jerk off too much to the memory of this in the next few days.”

And before the chat can explode into a flurry of dirty comments and sharp retorts, he reaches over to end the call and close the game window.

You sigh wearily, distantly aware that he’s rising from his chair with you in his arms. You hold him tighter, face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent, and he nuzzles you back. And for a moment, you think he’s taking you to the bed or the bathroom, to clean you up. Your face scrunches up in sleepy confusion when he sets you down on his desk instead.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen lips, smirking at you before he lowers himself. His tongue suddenly slides into your mouth and you accept it obediently, one of his hands running through your hair, pulling your head back, changing the angle of the kiss. Your mind is confused by the smell of him suffocating you in the best way, but before you can get too deep into it you feel him pulling away a few inches, enough to slide his cock out of your pussy.

You grunt a sound at this, but Aemond ignores, positioning himself better in front of you with a suspiciously amused glint in his eye - even though his other, mutilated and missing, lends him a look of constant danger.

“Spread your legs wide for me, baby.”

Even though you were suspicious about the meaning of that look, you did as he said, parting your legs slowly for his view.

“Why do you want to — oh ,” you close your mouth the moment you understand why he asked for it. Your cheeks burn as feel his hot cum slowly spurt from your pussy, dripping down between your thighs and onto his desk.

His gaze darkens until there’s nothing blue left in him, just that animalistic darkness and desire that makes your core throb with anticipation once more. You blink down at his hard cock - even after so much time together you’re still genuinely surprised at how long he could last.

You could have sworn he growled when you tried to close your legs, sending you a sharp, narrowed look before reaching his fingers down to your pussy, gathering the cum that was already on your thighs and pushing it back into your quivering entrance.

“A-Aemond, I don’t know if I can...if I can keep going with this—”

“Hmm...really?” He hums, lewdly watching his fingers sink into your pussy with an absolutely embarrassing squirting sound, his other hand casually stimulating his hardening cock with languid pumps. “But you tried so hard to get my attention before — a needy little slut on a mission...”

His voice is dangerously low, purring as he closes the distance between the two of you, a few strands of ice-blonde hair slick with sweat around his face.

“I really hope this bratty behavior of yours was worth it. Because you’re only leaving this fuckin room when I’m completely satisfied.”

And with that he pushes himself lazily to the hilt inside you once more, so slowly that you feel every veiny inch of his thick cock stretching you — pushing his cum into you again until your eyes roll back in your head.

Smooth and easy and relentless as he draws back to the tip and thrusts to the root, and then again, and then one broad hand is smoothing down your side and curling under one thigh to flick you up and open and the angle is so much better.

Aemond shivers with a guttural groan, nuzzling into the shell of your ear, and you sob again, so heated and so turned on by how completely your boyfriend has you wrapped around his fingers.

And oh yes. That was a phenomenal idea that certainly worth for you. And you can’t be humble about it — the credit is all yours.

Heat blooms in the center between your legs. You turn your head to the side, resting your sweaty temple against his. Your breath is shared between you, slow pumps of his cock into your sticky pussy.

“You bet it was worth.” You murmur, with a sugary little smile that is equal parts mischievous and shy.

Aemond snorts in amusement, though his brows are heavily slanted over his gaze, and he’s blinking at you hungrily, the way he weaves just a trace of fear into the lust that curls inside you, heavy as smoke.

“Greedy brat.”

And as you stand there; panting wetly against his lips, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, his thick cock inside your walls, his hands on your skin like an amalgam of possessiveness — welcoming his dark hunger like it’s your sole mission in life…

Yes, as you can already feel the slow burn of your orgasm building, tingling and warming you from the inside out, you think he might be right. You are a greedy brat.

But only for him.

Always for him.

[talkdutchtome]

"Let me take care of you" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . . after a disastrous race, you take care of max the best way you know how )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, use of petnames, sub!max, very soft dom!reader, traumatized maxie, not proofread )

word count . . . 2800 words )

a/n . . . this actually ended up a lot more emotional than i intended it to be but i hope everyone likes it anyway. i don't know if my smut writing is getting better or worse tbh. any and all feedback is always appricated <3 )

Max was a perfectionist; anyone could see that. He also had a desire to win like nobody else. He never let up. It didn’t matter to him if it was a title deciding race or a completely meaningless one, he needed to win. It had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember; second place is first loser after all. So naturally, when his brakes failed, and his car very literally caught fire in the Australian Grand Prix causing him to have to retire three laps into the race; you knew he was not going to take it well.  

You were watching along in the garage, and the only thing you could think about as his smoking car pulled up to the pits was how hard on himself he was going to be. The fact that it was through no fault of his own was irrelevant. He had just handed a win to Ferrari, and that made his blood boil.  

In typical Max fashion, you barely saw him after he retired too. He gave you a quick hug as he reached the garage but after that it was straight back to business. He made his way to the pit wall and immediately began discussing with Christian and GP what exactly happened and how do they fix it for Japan. He sent you a text that he was going to stay late at the track with the mechanics so that you should just head back to the hotel.  

Truthfully, Max was avoiding you. You had only been dating Max for a couple of months, and so far you had only seen him dominate on track. And whilst you were concerned that that he would be beating himself up for disappointing himself or the team, he was busy focusing on how he had disappointed you. You had taken time out of your busy university schedule to travel to the other side of the world to see him race, and he had to retire three laps in. He was used to people living through him, taking his wins as theirs. He had never considered that all you cared about that he was safe and didn’t get hurt.  

So, you went to the hotel and waited for him; or at least you tried to. Tiredness and jet lag eventually started to catch up to you, and you had just started to drift off to sleep when you heard the door open. Looking up greet Max, you could see immediately how heavy the weight he bore on his shoulders hung.  

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked him sleep in your voice still evident. Max just hung his head and walked into the bathroom. He half expected you to berate him. To question him on exactly what went wrong and what he’s going to do to fix it.  

“Maxie?” You asked again, as he came in from the bathroom and made his way to his side of the bed, his eyes routed to the floor. This time he just grunted at you in response before getting into bed and turning away from you. He did not have the energy to be told everything he did wrong and why - he had already had that from his dad.  

“Please talk to me Maxie, I’m worried.” You pleaded at him, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him. You wanted that more than anything, but you sensed that he maybe didn’t feel the same.  

“What do you want Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice cracking.  

“Are you okay? I know that was tough result to take but it’s only once race. We both know you’ll be back better than ever for the next one.”  

To your words, Max just grunted again. And this time you couldn’t help but reach over to hold him. Wrapping one of your arms around his waist and the other coming up to brush through his hair. You waited cautiously for him to pull away. A moment passed and he began to move, your heart sank; he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you right now. But instead of moving away, he just turned around, bringing himself closer to you, resting his head on your chest.  

“I just hate to let the team down” he spoke, his voice no more than a whisper, like he wasn’t 100% convinced if he should be saying anything.  

“But baby you didn’t let them down, you did nothing wrong. There was an issue with the car that isn’t your fault.” You gazed down at his face, your hands smoothing through his hair.  

“I could have done something. Maybe I pushed the brakes too much. Maybe I went too hard. All I know is that I let the team down. I let my dad down. I let you down. You cam-“ He started to ramble, but you had heard enough.   

“Whoa Max baby slow down. I can’t speak for the team or your dad, but you certainly did not let me down. All that matters to me is that you didn’t get hurt. I was so worried; you were literally driving a car that was on fire. You could have been hurt.”  

As the words left your mouth, he looked up at you. Almost as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. When his eyes met yours and he realized you were being sincere, he hugged tighter into you.  

“I love you Y/N” he spoke and before you could say anything, you felt him bring his mouth to your neck. Leaving hot open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone up to until he met your mouth. His lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. His hands found your hair and his teeth nipped at your lips. He quickly found himself getting lost in you and you weren’t too far behind. But when his hands wandered towards the bottom of your pajama top, you had to pull away.  

“Wait, Maxie. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve had a rough day, are you sure you want to do this. We could just go to sleep if you’d prefer.” You didn’t want him to feel like this was something he needed to do.  

But when his lips once again found your neck, it was clear you had your answer. “Please” he mumbled against your skin “I just want to forget” between each word he left a kiss on your neck, before beginning to nibble against that one spot on your neck that he knew always sent you completely insane. He left deep purple marks all down your neck and you couldn’t help but let a moan slip through your lips.  

You were about to completely cave into his touch before you had an idea, and before you could overthink whether it was a good idea, you swung your legs over him until you had him pinned underneath you, your legs either side of his. A smirk plastered across your face 

Max looked completely taken aback at your action, but the second you leant down to kiss him, your lips just slightly brushing against his; he was starstruck and could feel himself growing harder by the second, which only deepened your smirk.  

“Let me take care of you baby” you whispered in his ear before beginning to grind your core against him. The whimper that left Max’s lips took you both by surprise but, taking that as confirmation that he wanted you to take control; you attached your lips to his neck, trailing kisses down his chest until you reached the waistband of his underwear. It was clear from the way that his hard dick strained against the cloth that Max was enjoying this new side of you, and you could be lying if you said it didn’t give you a bit of a confidence boost. 

You started to tease him, placing warm kisses over his underwear, but when you hear him try and fail to beg you to touch him, it becomes clear that maybe today isn’t the day to tease him. So, you hook your fingers around his waistband and release him from the tight confines of the cloth. Immediately, your mouth found his cock, your lips wrapping around his tip. Max’s moans filled the air as he came apart like putty in your hands. The way that your tongue swirled around him made him go crazy. He reached out his hands to grab your hair in a makeshift pony, but you dodged him. Max honestly thought he was going to cry when you took your mouth off him. 

“No baby, I told you I was going to take care of you, you just sit back and let me do everything” you told him before quickly placing a kiss on his lips before reattaching your mouth to Max’s throbbing dick and bringing your hand to the part of it that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Max felt lightheaded; it’s not like you hadn’t given him a blowjob before, but never like this. He couldn’t ever remember being this turned on before. He had never even considered letting you take control, letting you take care of him so intently before; but now that he was experiencing it – he kicked himself for waiting so long. 

The sounds coming from your boyfriend were music to your ears and only encouraged you to make him feel better and better. You could feel yourself getting wetter, completely desperate to feel him inside of you; but today was about Max, you’d happily wait longer for your own pleasure to take care of him. You began taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, earning more moans from Max. You had never heard him be so vocal before. Things got even better for him when you hallowed your cheeks and brought your hand up to his balls, massaging them in your hands as you worked his dick in your mouth.   When his tip hit the very back of your throat and you gagged around him, he was so loud you were just slightly concerned that whoever was in the room next door would be up for a rude awakening.  

“Oh, fuck baby, oh my god. I’m so close” Max just about managed to get out between moans, promoting you to once again let go of his dick. For a second Max looked at you with puppy dog eyes, silently begging you to take him back in your mouth. But as soon as you stood up and very slowly pulled your pajama shorts down, he realized that there were better things to come.  

“Do you want me to ride you, Maxie?” you asked him breathlessly earning another groan from the man lying on the bed. 

“Fuck, yes. Please please ride me I need to be inside of you more than anything” Max’s voice was weak; it was becoming all too much for him. And when you finally rid yourself of your pajama top, Max started to see stars. Your tits were his weakness, and you knew that all too well. All he wanted was to take them in his mouth, to suck and bite on your nipples. So, when you straddled him once again, that's exactly what he did. You thought about stopping him again, reminding him that tonight was about him and his pleasure; but when you caught sight of his eyes – usually so bright and sparkling. Now they were so dark, so filled with lust and desperation, you didn’t have the heart to deprive him of one of his favorite things to do.  

You leant down to kiss him again, and the taste of his own precum on your tongue made him groan feverishly against your lips. Unable to wait anymore, you finally lowered yourself onto his dick. Now it was your turn to let out a string of moans and profanity. The way that he stretched you out was a feeling that you could never grow old of. After a beat to get used to having him inside of you, you began to bounce on top of him, pumping his dick in and out of your tight desperate pussy.  

“Oh my god Maxie you feel so good, your huge dick sends me so crazy” You moan out, completely cock drunk. “You fuck me so good, god nobody makes me feel like you can” Your praise made Max moan louder than ever and then he simply couldn’t help himself anymore; he brought his hands up to your hips and began thrusting hard into you. You wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him to let you take care of him – but when he rammed his cock into g-spot you physically couldn’t ask him to stop doing something that felt so good.  

“I love you so much Y/N baby” Max croaked out, bringing his mouth back to your tits and his hand down to your clit. Him touching you for the first time tonight meant it was now time for you to see stars. His expert hands rubbing against your clit brought you closer and closer to release and you could tell from the way that Max’s thrusts became deeper and harder that he wasn’t far behind you. 

Wanting to finish what you had started; you placed your hands on his chest – signaling him to stop for a second. Max did so very reluctantly, but when you started to bounce on his dick again his eyes rolled back into his head. After each bounce you grinded yourself down on him, desperate to get him as deep as you possibly could. Your climax was getting closer and closer and soon you felt like you were ready to burst. 

“I’m going to cum on your dick okay baby? You just make me feel so good I can’t help myself.” you told the man beneath you breathlessly, prompting Max to resume rubbing circles into your clit. 

“Please do. Please cum all over my cock I need that so much” Max croaked out and with that you fell over the edge. A wave of pleasure washed over you and you screamed out for Max. It felt so good you thought you were going to pass out, completely taken over by the pleasure that Max’s hard dick had given you. For a few moments, you simply had to still yourself to let yourself recover. 

Once you had ridden out the last of your orgasm, you were ready to go again; ready to make Max feel as good as you possibly could. You began grinding down onto him, squeezing yourself against him. After feeling you cumming all over him, Max knew he wouldn’t need long before he was right behind you.  

“Fuck Y/N I’m really close, get off and I’ll finish in your mouth” Max just about got out between moans. When you didn’t get off and instead began bouncing faster and harder, Max really thought he might just die.  

“Cum inside of me Maxie please, I need your cum fucked so deep inside me”  

“Fuck really?” 

“Yeah, i need it so bad.” 

“Oh my god Y/N, you’ll be the fucking death of me” 

The second those words left his mouth, he fell apart. A string of profanity left his lips, and you could feel his dick pulse inside of you as he painted the insides of you white with his cum. Max couldn’t believe how good it felt, sex with you was always great but that was on another level, he couldn’t remember ever feeling that good before. 

“I love you so much Y/N” 

He gently slipped himself out of you and you collapsed next to him on the bed. Exhausted wasn’t the word for how tired you felt after that. And apparently that was true for Max as well as in the time that it took you to waddle to the toilet to clean yourself up, he had managed to fall asleep. You couldn’t blame him of course; even before that it had been a very long tiering day for him. So, as quietly as you could, you got ready for bed and slipped yourself into bed next to him.  

Looking at the very peaceful sleeping man next to you, you couldn’t help but snuggle down close to him. Placing a kiss on his temple before assuming the big spoon position that you know he loves so much from you. Your movement causing him to ever so slightly stir awake. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” he spoke so softly you almost missed it before falling right back into a very peaceful sleep. You couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have a man like him cuddled close to you. 

“Sleep well Maxie, I love you more than anything.” 

[llumetrii]

Unexpected Gifts | Miguel x Reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

Summary: Miguel makes you a gift for Valentine's Day.

Warnings: none! Just fluff and flustered Miguel (my favorite hehe)

Word Count: 1800

A/N: I know this is such a late Valentine's post but I find myself losing motivation to post and write things when I put such high expectations on myself considering time and quality, so instead of not posting at all, I'm posting it late and trying not to overthink about whether it's even good enough. I need to stop being a perfectionist lol.

Miguel swiped on his holo screens mindlessly. He kept catching himself zoning out, and it frustrated him immensely. He just couldn't seem to focus.

He glanced down at his desk, seeing the small device sitting there in front of him, the same object his thoughts kept circling back to. It didn't look like much, just a flat, compact rectangle of circuitry. But it was supposed to be a gift. A gift for you.

Thinking about actually giving it to you made his heart pound at the mere thought. That was the one part Miguel was worried about. He could whip up machinery and run analyses like no problem, but giving an actual handmade gift to someone wasn't part of his list of skills. And it didn't help his nerves any more when he considered the fact he was going to give it to you today, on Valentine's Day.

He didn't plan this, originally. He wasn't used to celebrating Valentine's Day the way others did. In fact, he didn't celebrate it at all. He considered it a work day like any other, with the addition of chocolates or other candies Peter B. or a few other Spiders gave him. For the most part, though, Valentine's day wasn't anything special to him.

At least, until this year. He had felt a strange urge to make this device for you, and even more strangely, he gave into it. But now that the day had come to give it to you, he was starting to second-guess his decision.

It wasn't even Valentine-related, and that fact just made Miguel feel more awkward. Should he have added something? A flower, perhaps? No—that would have been too much, right? Especially since you were just a friend. 

A friend he...thought about a lot.

But he felt like he needed to spruce up his gift with something. He pulled open one of his drawers at his desk, then another. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, he just needed to find something more—

"Hey, Miguel…"

He jolted at the sound of your familiar, sing-song voice.

Miguel slammed his drawer shut a little too hard and turned quickly, his heart suddenly rocketing toward his throat.

He hadn't expected to see what you were holding.

You had a wide smile on your face, prancing up to his platform and holding out the bundle of gifts in your arms. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Miguel's eyes widened. You presented him with a single, lively red rose paired with a small box of delicious-looking brownies and a decorative bag filled with coffee packets.

He blinked. It was...a lot. And it was all tied into the Valentine theme in one way or another. The signature red rose, the pink ribbon, and even the little heart sprinkles on the brownies. The sight left him speechless.

"I—Thank you..." His arms felt stiff, and he had to actually force them to move forward to carefully accept the items. He hadn't seen any Valentine's gift like this in years—maybe even a decade. He couldn't even think of anything at all as he stared at the items.

His chest actually hurt from the warmth that was filling to the brim. He swallowed hard. This was so unexpected. 

You beamed up at him, unaware that his heart felt like it was going to burst. "I hope you like brownies." You said, glancing at the little box in his hand. "I tried to think of a treat that everyone kind of liked and I thought brownies would be a good idea to share." 

Everyone? 

His brain was slowly turning gears again. So you made this for everyone? 

Maybe it was stupid to think you had put this gift together just for him, that you might have been thinking only about him today. The two of you were only friends at most.

He hated that he felt disappointed.

"You...made this for everyone?" He muttered dumbly, gazing down at the soft, vibrant petals of the rose. When was the last time he even saw a rose?

"Well...all my friends, yeah." You shrugged, the smile still lingering. "Which...turned out to be a lot more than I thought." You chuckled. "My hands were cramping last night tying all the ribbons."

"Thank you." He said again, quietly. He was still awed by the gesture and the effort you put into the gifts. He turned slowly to place the items on his desk with utmost care.

His eyes fell upon the little device he had made for you, and a sudden weight of embarrassment crashed over him. How could he give you his gift now after what effort you had put in for him? He didn't even want to call it a gift at this point. It was something he made on a whim. He didn't wrap it up in a nice bow or even try to buy candy to add. 

It was supposed to be a small upgrade to your suit—if you even liked it. Something like that wasn't meant to be a Valentine's gift.

Miguel subtly pushed the little device out of sight. But something in him hesitated, made his fingers linger a bit longer despite his heart pounding at the mere idea of giving it to you.

You sidled up next to him, turning your head up to look at him with that bright smile of yours still stuck to your face "So...have you seen the break room yet? It's been decorated for Valentine's day and lots of Spiders brought treats."

Miguel quickly straightened and cleared his throat, somehow gripping the device in his closed fist. "uh—no. I haven't been down there." He scratched the side of his neck as he glanced at his holo screens.

"Well, you should check it out. There's some good stuff."

"I...have a lot of things to work on. As usual." He gestured loosely to his ongoing work with his closed fist, forgetting, for a brief moment, that he was holding what was supposed to be your gift. He awkwardly lowered his hand to the table and leaned against it, hoping you didn't notice.

You appeared to be oblivious of his struggle, especially since you were turning away with a shrug. "Okay. More for me, I guess."

"You're leaving?" He blurted.

He snapped his mouth shut as soon as the words left his mouth like that. Could he be any more stupid? He wasn't thinking properly at all.

You turned, looking surprised. Then, you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder. "Yeah, I was about to head down and eat the treats you didn't want."

He didn't even acknowledge the attempt to tease—he barely heard it. Miguel crossed over to you in two quick strides.  "I was going to give this to you." 

He pressed the 'gift' he made toward you, silently urging you to take it before he could change his mind.

You blinked, and your eyes widened as you accepted the small item automatically. "Oh—uh..." You paused for an agonizing moment, studying it in your palm. "What is it?"

Miguel stepped back, feeling  like he couldn't breathe too well. "It's a laser component to add onto your webs. You...mentioned a while ago that you liked mine."

Your gasp of excitement almost startled him. "Oh! Really? You made this for me?" You looked up at him  with a beautiful, awed smile that made him forget about everything else for a moment.

His lips twitched upward in a smile of their own. "Yeah..."

"How do I put it on?" You stared at your wrists intently.

"I can help you attach it." Miguel said. "It shouldn't take long."

"Okay!"

Miguel stepped back and offered his chair to you. His heart was still skipping beats, making him feel almost dizzy. He had to take a breath to steady himself.

You perched yourself on his seat and looked up at him expectantly. He noticed how far you had to crane your head back because he was towering over you in this position, so he knelt down on one knee and gently took the device from your hand. He handled your wrist just as carefully, turning it up to find the best place to incorporate the new piece onto your suit. It was difficult not to think about how close the two of you were, and it only made the heat he was feeling earlier crawl up to his cheeks. He kept his head down so you wouldn't notice.

It didn't take you long to start talking about some other Valentine's day happenings while he worked. Miguel was glad you could fill the quiet with something other than the racket his heart was making. Hearing you talk about your day, or anything, really, made such tension easier to bear.

Within a couple minutes, two new laser devices had been attached to your suit, one for each wrist. Miguel looked up from your hand to meet your gaze. "What color would you like the laser to be?" He asked.

Your eyes widened, a slow smile spreading on your face. "I can pick the color?"

Once again, Miguel couldn't help but smile in response as he dipped his head. "Mhm."

When he glanced down again, he noticed he was still holding your wrist. He dropped his hand, pushing himself up to stand because your proximity paired with your smile was making his heart all fluttery. 

"I wanna do..." You hummed thoughtfully and glanced down at your spider-suit. "Something that matches my suit."

Miguel nodded and turned to face his monitors, swiping his hand through the air to bring up new holo screens. You watched as he worked efficiently, his eyes darting over the lines of code he confronted.

"All right..." He said, finally glancing at you. "Should be good to go."

You grinned and shot a web to the floor, your eyes glittering in amazement at the bright neon color that now lined your own webbing. You immediately turned to him. "Thank you so much, Miguel! I love it!"

Your beaming smile made his heart race and his cheeks warm. "You're welcome." He cleared his throat and glanced away toward his desk, catching sight of the Valentine's gift you gave him earlier. "Happy Valentine's day." He added. It felt like the right thing to say in the moment, despite the fact he probably hadn't said that phrase to anyone in years. 

Your smile spread impossibly wider. "Happy Valentine's day, Miguel."

[luvfae]

CENTRE STAGE, PT 4

summary: thanos makes a huge gesture in front of a sold-out arena

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: sexual innuendos, swearing

series masterlist

You rolled off Thanos, collapsing onto the mattress, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Every muscle in your body ached, the lingering heat between your thighs a reminder of just how thoroughly he had wrecked you for the fourth time this week.

It was only Tuesday.

Beside you, Thanos lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you with a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“What?” You huffed, glancing at him with a smile.

He shrugged, dragging his fingers through his tousled hair. “Just admiring my work.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his arm, but before he could retaliate, his phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

With a groan, he reached for it. “What now?”

The moment he answered, a sharp voice filled the room. “Where the hell are you? Sound check started ten minutes ago.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Shit.

Thanos exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his face. “Relax. I’m on my way.”

“You better be,” his manager snapped. “And if you find Y/N, bring her with you. She’s MIA too.”

Your stomach dropped.

Thanos shot you a look, one brow raised in amusement as if to say busted.

You were already halfway off the bed, scrambling for your clothes. You yanked your top over your head, hopping on one foot as you struggled to pull on your pants, while Thanos, the asshole, lay there watching you like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.

“Okay, okay,” he finally said into the phone, hanging up with a chuckle.

You spun around, jabbing a finger at him. “This is your fault.”

He grinned, stretching like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, definitely.”

You tugged on your last boot, barely managing to zip it up before Thanos was pulling his shirt over his head, shoving his phone into his pocket. His hair was still a mess from your hands, his lips swollen, his skin still marked with your teeth—but he looked more amused than worried.

You, on the other hand, were freaking out.

“MIA?” You hissed, smoothing down your top. “He knows, doesn’t he? He knows we were together.”

Thanos chuckled, stepping behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips brushed your ear. “Would that be so bad?”

You elbowed him, making him laugh before yanking yourself from his hold and grabbing your bag. “Yes, dumbass. Now move.”

By the time you both made it to the venue, sound check was already in full swing. The crew was rushing around, setting up equipment, testing lights, fine-tuning every last detail before the show. The rest of the dancers were warming up on stage, stretching, running through formations, the band playing snippets of the setlist.

And Thanos?

Completely unbothered.

“You’re late,” his manager said the second he stepped into the dressing room.

“No shit,” Thanos replied, grabbing a water bottle.

The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “At least pretend to care, Su-bong.”

Thanos smirked. “But I don’t.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you adjusted your outfit in the mirror. The performance wardrobe was all sleek black and gold—tight-fitting, perfectly tailored to match Thanos’s aesthetic. He had always been a perfectionist when it came to his stage presence, his performances meticulously planned down to the last detail.

Except for tonight.

Something about the way he kept looking at you, the way his smirk lingered, told you he was planning something.

And you had no idea what it was.

The stage was packed with energy by the time the show started, the crowd screaming as the lights went down, the opening beats of the first song sending vibrations through the floor. You were in position, standing just behind Thanos as the intro played, watching the way his presence commanded the entire arena.

He was born for this.

Every move, every lyric, every glance he threw the audience had them eating out of his hand.

And when it came to you?

He made sure they knew exactly who had his attention.

Each time he danced too close, each time his hands found your waist, each time he pulled you into the choreography like you were the only one on that stage—your skin burned.

It wasn’t unusual for Thanos to have chemistry with you. All the dancers could see how he treated you compared to the rest of them.

But this?

This was different.

By the time the final song of the night rolled around, you were breathless, sweat glistening on your skin as you held your last position, waiting for the stage to reset.

Then the first few notes played.

And something in Thanos’s expression changed.

This song wasn’t apart of the setlist.

You recognized the song. It was one of his most popular, a fan-favorite, the kind that had the entire crowd singing along.

But the way he looked at you as he sang the first verse?

The slow, deliberate steps he took toward you as he crooned into the mic?

Your breath hitched as he reached you, his free hand finding your waist, pulling you flush against him. The audience roared.

He sang the next line directly to you, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his lips parting like he was about to say something—

And then he kissed you.

Right there.

On stage.

In front of everyone.

For a moment, time stopped.

Then the arena exploded.

Screams, cheers, the kind of chaos that only a moment like this could cause.

Your body melted into his on instinct, your fingers gripping his shirt as he deepened the kiss, making sure there was no doubt in anyone’s mind.

And then, just as quickly as it started—

The stage went dark.

The lights cut out, leaving nothing but the echoes of screaming fans and your pounding heartbeat.

Thanos pulled back, just enough to whisper in your ear.

“Now they all know.”

And when the lights flickered back on, the show ending with one final boom of fireworks—

All you could do was stand there, breathless, your lips tingling, your pulse racing.

Because holy shit.

Thanos just changed everything.

You stormed off stage, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Thanos was right behind you, still high off the rush of the performance, grinning like he hadn’t just humiliated you in front of thousands of screaming fans.

“What the fuck was that, Thanos?” you snapped, whipping around the second you were backstage, your chest rising and falling with the force of your frustration.

He raised an eyebrow, still catching his breath. “Which part?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Which part? Oh, I don’t know—maybe the part where you kissed me in front of a sold-out arena? Without warning?”

Thanos scoffed, running a hand through his damp hair. “You act like I just did it for the hell of it.”

Your jaw clenched. “Didn’t you?”

His expression softened, his hands dropping to his sides. “No.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head, trying to steady yourself. But the adrenaline, the heat, the absolute audacity of this man was making it impossible.

Thanos stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Do you really think I would’ve done that if I didn’t mean it?”

You glared up at him, still trying to cling to your anger. “I think you do whatever the hell you want without thinking about anyone else.”

His jaw ticked. “That’s what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shot back. “You didn’t ask me, you didn’t even hint at it, you just—” You gestured wildly. “You just fucking did it! And now, my phone’s probably exploding with messages and clips and comments, and I wasn’t ready for that!”

Silence.

Then, softer, steadier—

“I was.”

You froze.

His hands found your arms, his touch firm but gentle. “I’ve been ready for this. For you.”

Your breath caught.

Thanos exhaled, shaking his head, his grip tightening like he was afraid you’d slip away. “I want you, Y/N. Not in secret. Not just when it’s convenient. I want you for real. I want to be your boyfriend.”

Your heart stuttered.

His voice dropped even lower, just for you.

“I want the whole damn world to know that you’re mine. Because you’re the only person who’s ever made my heart race like this.”

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him.

“The only person who makes me feel alive,” he murmured. “Who drives me crazy and keeps me sane all at once.”

Your chest ached.

Around you, the air in the room shifted. Crew, staff, dancers who had gathered to watch the scene.

Some people were staring in awe. Others exchanged knowing glances, like they’d seen this coming from a mile away.

And then there were the ones who looked like they’d just been stabbed in the heart.

But none of them mattered.

Because Thanos was still looking at you like you were the only thing that did.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why me out of every woman in Korea? What’s so special about me?”

Thanos tilted his head, eyes dark and searching as he studied you. “Why not you?” he countered, voice steady. “I might be famous, but I’m still human. Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You scoffed, a small laugh slipping out. “Trust me, I don’t.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I like about you, you don’t treat me like i’m famous.” His fingers brushed over your cheek, touch featherlight. “The second I met you, I knew I had to have you. I’ve toured a million fucking times, been around countless women, and not one of them has ever gotten in my head the way you do.” He paused, eyes flickering over your face like he was memorizing every inch. “But you… there’s just something about you, baby.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sincerity in his voice making your breath hitch.

You smiled softly.

He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “We could be good together,” he murmured. “Really good. Hmm?”

You exhaled shakily, your hands tightening in his hoodie. “Okay,” you whispered.

And then his lips were on yours, claiming you in a kiss that was slow and deep and real. It wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just a fleeting moment—it was everything.

A sudden eruption of cheers and applause snapped you both back to reality.

You tore away from Thanos, eyes wide, only to see the entire crew—band members, backup dancers, staff—watching.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your burning face in Thanos’ chest.

He just laughed, arms wrapping around you possessively. “See? They approve.”

You smacked his chest lightly, making him chuckle. “That’s not the point!”

One of the backup dancers, elbowed another with a smirk. “Told you he wasn’t just flirting. He meant that shit.”

The rest of the crew slowly dispersed, some giving you knowing smiles, others still buzzing with excitement. But as the noise faded and it was just the two of you again, Thanos tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “We’re gonna be good together.”

Your breath hitched, your hands sliding up his chest. “Guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

His smirk turned devilish. “I love a challenge.”

And before you could roll your eyes, he kissed you again—slow and deep—like he had all the time in the world.