#the next one will be shorter i promise

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 7

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, agoraphobia, depression, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

You woke up alone and felt anything but. The distant buzz of people outside, on the streets, bustling about the hallways of the inn, felt suffocating. It all seemed so loud now, so deafening. 

Lucien appeared in front of you, giving you a quiet “Good morning,” and suddenly, it wasn’t loud at all, his voice cutting through the hum that had seemed deafening moments before. 

“How’re you doing?” he asked as you blinked up at him from your seat on the bed. 

Was his voice quieter than usual? Or maybe that was just how people sounded with the constant buzz of a city in the background. 

“I don’t have any stuff,” you said. It was a trivial complaint, you knew that, but you wanted something to hold onto. Anything that was yours, that wasn’t so foreign. 

He laughed and it felt cruel. You knew it shouldn't, that he was trying to help, but it felt cruel that he was allowed to do that right now, while you felt like you’d been broken into pieces. “We’ll get you new stuff, don’t worry about that.”

Like it was that simple. Like you could just get new stuff and move on. 

It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. He was the reason you were still here. But some part of you; some unsnuffable, horrible little instinct; wanted to blame him. Without him, you would still be home. Without him, nothing would have changed. 

“I just…” you began, with no idea how to articulate any of this to him. 

And then, with the most distressed expression you’d ever seen from him, he interrupted you and said, “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

And that was it. He faded away and you were alone again. 

You hated the deafening roar of the city he left you with. 

At least when he was here, you could pretend things would be okay. 

You didn’t have anything left. Anything but him. At least when he was in front of you, you had something to cling to. 

Hours passed before he reappeared in front of you. When he did, you didn’t manage to get a word out before a string of curse words escaped him and he faded out of existence again. 

You barely even moved as you waited for him. What would you do anyway? You had nothing to do but wait, so that’s what you did, patiently and quietly, on the bed he’d found for you. 

It was a shorter wait this time, under an hour if you had to guess. 

“Where do you keep going?” you asked as he solidified in the space in front of you. It was slower without you summoning him, like he had to put real effort into coming to you. 

A pained expression flashed across his face, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “I’m being summoned.”

“So often? You’re a popular demon,” you said it with the cadence of a joke, but neither of you found it particularly funny. 

“Summonings go through phases,” he said with a sigh. “Names get discovered or obtain reputations. I was too nice for a while, people got comfortable, so I get called upon a lot these days. I’m rectifying my mistake. Hopefully, my name will start to come with a bad taste in people’s mouths in a few decades.”

“Oh. Good luck with that, I guess.”

“Thank you. It’s been going pretty well. Only one major lapse in my judgment,” he said with a pointed look in your direction. 

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “I promise to tell everyone you were real mean to me. Very scary, the scariest demon you could imagine.”

A huff of laughter escaped him. “Good. My reputation may survive this little affair yet. Now, what have you been up to?”

Your eyes flicked around as you searched for an answer that wouldn’t sound horribly tragic. 

He didn’t wait for you to find one before butting in at your obvious distress. “Come on, you don’t need to wait around for me. You haven’t had the chance to do anything in years, go talk to someone or something.”

You shrugged. “I’m fine where I am.”

He looked you up and down, evaluating you as you shrunk away from him. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. I’m just fine in here.”

His eyes narrowed and you couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe you. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to understand. Surely anyone would be hesitant to go back out into the world after being stowed safely away for so long. 

“Something happened,” he said, no longer a question and entirely incorrect.

“It really didn’t. Actually, as long as we’re talking about it, I was thinking. I probably shouldn’t be here at all. I mean, I’m not doing much here. I could always stay in hell with you. It would be easier that way.”

“No,” he snapped, and you flinched back at his harsh tone. “No,” he said again, softer this time, a quiet correction. “I will not let you just lock yourself away again. I will not be your new Eden.”

“I wasn’t asking you to be,” you lied, unconvincing even to yourself.

“You’ll be fine. Just go, talk to someone, get some fresh air. It’ll get easier.”

He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, just how impossible it was. 

“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about me.”

He gave you an unmistakably worried look as he said, “Alright, I won’t. I just think that… shit.”

“Is it happening again?”

“Just go do something. I’ll be back when I can.”

As you laid down in bed, with no intention to go out and doing anything, you wondered just how often he got summoned. You’d never really considered it before. You knew it happened of course, but you’d never put real thought into it past how frustrating of an experience it must be for him. 

What would happen if two people tried to summon him at once? Would it hurt? Rip him in two? You doubted that any of the witches summoning him had considered it either. 

And what other things was he being forced to do out there? Surely Eden wasn’t the worst witch he’d ever encountered. What other horrible things weighed on him every day, that he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for?  

As time ticked on, another thought wormed its way into your head. Maybe he wasn’t being summoned at all. He’d never had to leave this often before he’d helped you make your daring escape and now he could barely stay with you for more than a few minutes. 

It made sense. He’d done what he wanted to do. He’d freed you from the trap he was forced to lay. His part in this should be over, his guilt assuaged, if it weren’t for the way you clung to him like a lifeline. 

The thoughts swam around your head until he appeared once more, looking irritated, eyes distant and cold. 

The spark of insecurity in you couldn’t be snuffed out any longer, not even in the face of his bad mood. 

“Are you actually being summoned?” you blurted out. “Because if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.” You knew it wasn’t true, that you needed him, but still couldn’t stomach the idea of him forcing himself to be here. “I thought we were friends but maybe that was naive. Is it just guilt? Is that what all of this was?”

He sighed, his hands rising to rub at his temples. “It's not... I don't know. Maybe at the beginning. I wanted you to be bad. I needed you to be. And you weren’t and it was the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quiet and broken and completely genuine. 

“You really are, aren’t you? Sorry for what? Sorry for not being awful?”

“Well, not…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You just knew that you were sorry. “I just meant, sorry for making things worse for you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t make anything worse, not in the long run. I like you. I’m glad you got out of there. It’s just that right at the start I needed you to be a bad person so I didn't feel so fucking guilty. I hate doing this, you know. Being so cruel. Especially to people like you. But if I don’t things get so much worse.”

“You’re not cruel,” you said, knowing it was true and yet somehow, deep down, knowing it was the last thing he wanted to hear. 

“I didn’t used to be. That’s the rule. My new rule. No more being nice to the inexperienced ones. Witches like yours don’t give you opportunities to lash out so if you want to establish a reputation, you have to be cruel when you can be. Every single time they give you the chance. When the little witches summoning their first monster give you an opening, you strike. That way the next one thinks twice when they see your name in some summoning book.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Feels awful too. But nothing feels worse than being forced to do even crueler things so you do what you can. Lesser of two evils.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said, knowing exactly what crueler things were flashing through his distant eyes. 

“Maybe not. Still wouldn’t have happened without me. You weren’t the first, you know. You were the first victim she kept, sure, but not the first one who fell prey to that damn forest. You’ve probably seen what’s left of some of them, some bones and remains of them in various forms. She got plenty of use out of them, I’ll give her that much”

Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke and your mind pulled back to the various bones and bits of gore in jars that you’d tended to and organized for her over the years. You’d never thought about them before, not really. Even trying to remember them, it was like a haze began to form in your mind, a buzzing pain starting to settle in over the distant images. 

You started to fall to the side before the feeling of a warm hand on your arm brought you out of your head. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling back far too soon. “I’m sure she’s tainted most of your memories of anything she didn’t want you to see. It’s probably best to not try and look back.”

Now you had one more thing to mourn, even the memories of your home being ripped away from you. How cruel that you weren’t even allowed to keep those in this strange new place. 

“Right. I’ll do my best.”

He nodded. “I know you will. You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing really well.”

It was a kind lie. You appreciated him for trying to tell it.  

And then you were alone again. 

You did try leaving this place. You swore you did, despite knowing in the back of your head that you couldn’t do it. 

You peeked out the window on the tips of your toes down at unfamiliar faces on the street and stood at the door, pretending you knew how to steel yourself for the task ahead.

At the very least it was something to do with yourself when Lucien was away, gone to a summoning or back to hell or just living his life, doing things he refused to speak about with you, always keeping you at arms length. 

But that was unfair. He was there when he could be during the day, when some other witch didn’t whisk him away against his will to do whatever they pleased. 

He never spoke to you about it, about what they asked him to do. Every time you tried he got very quiet and then began to push back, asking you when you’d go outside. 

Nothing quieted you faster than that. 

At night he was always gone. 

At night you were small again. 

You hated sleeping, avoided it whenever you could. You were terrified of the dreams that might come. You’d honestly welcome a nightmare at this point. Your biggest fear was you would dream of home. Your biggest fear was waking up again after. 

Instead, you just stared at the wall every night, waiting for it to be morning so you could wait for Lucien again. 

A thud pulled you from your trance and your head jerked up towards the window just in time to see a bird falling to the ground below after having slammed into the glass it’s little mind couldn't comprehend. 

You were moving before you even had time to think. It was for the best, you weren’t sure you could’ve managed it if you’d had to think it through, to force yourself to get up and go check on the poor creature. 

You held your breath as you walked out the door of your room, freezing for a moment. You weren’t sure what you expected to happen. 

A woman walked by you, turning to the side and slipping by where you were blocking the hallway with a quiet, “Excuse me, love.”

There was a pressure building in your head, behind your eyes, closing your throat. This foreign air felt toxic, a bile rising inside of you. 

A gentle hand settled on your back and you practically jumped out of your skin to get away from it. 

You bolted at the contact, frightened, flighty. Darted not back inside but through the halls until you found a way outside, running around the perimeter of the building until you found it. 

It was a small, unassuming brown bird, crumpled on the ground, an injured wing tucked under itself. 

You picked it up as gently as you could, cradling it in the palms of your hands. 

Every instinct you had wanted you to run back and hide. Instead, you walked slowly, carefully, trying not to jostle the poor creature too much. 

The woman was no longer in the hall, having left at some point after you’d fled from her. Some part of you felt bad, hoped you hadn’t hurt her feelings or left her worried. 

Most of your attention was on the bird. 

You had no idea how to help it, would have to ask Lucien tomorrow. You were terrified to touch the bent wing, to make it worse than it already was. Even attempting to set it would hurt the poor creature and you couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of inflicting any more pain. 

You did what you could, forming a little bed to rest it in for the night, a little nest out of towels and pillows. 

It was almost funny in a way. A makeshift nest inside of your makeshift nest. You were no better off than this frightened, wounded little creature. 

At least maybe, someday, it could get out of here. 

[bloody-wonder]

top 25 books to read in 2025

thank you @counterwiddershins and @magpiefngrl for tagging me to share 9 books i want to read in 2025 - and sorry for changing the rules of the tag to suit my vicious goals😈

the last book is kj charles' next release which is gonna be called either all of us murderers or lackaday house and doesn't have a cover yet

tagging @oliviermiraarmstrongs @figuringthengsout @fugitoidkry @pinkasrenzo @fandomreferencepending @sugarbabywenkexing @weirdsociology @theodoradove @doh-rae-me @venndaai @sixappleseeds

show me what 9 or 25 or any other number of books you want to read in 2025!📚

[commsroom]

Happy birthday! What are your thoughts and insights on everyone’s first interactions with hera?

thank you!! sorry this is late, but it's a really good question and i wanted to spend a little more time on it. hm.

minkowski is the first person hera met on the hephaestus (and so... kind of the first person she met at all; i don't think goddard scientists and higher-ups count.) and while "i'd heard sensus units prefer to go by their serial numbers" is very telling in... other ways, minkowski was just trying to be prepared. she accepts hera's correction, they both kinda mutually embarrass themselves... all things considered, much nicer than what hera is used to. the bar is low, but still. they really butt heads before they actually become friends, but the potential for that was always there.

as for eiffel, i have a post here that's relevant. i'm a big fan of hera saying eiffel's name + employee ID before he can introduce himself, because the implicit messaging is that he also has a name and a number, the same as her. i think the core of eiffel + hera's eventual relationship is that, fundamentally, she values the same things he does. she sees him blundering around in the dark with no regard for station protocol, with contraband cigarettes floating out of his pocket, and she likes that. "you hate rules as much as i do, don't you, doug?" i don't know if it's controversial to say, but i think hera was attached to eiffel long before eiffel really got attached to hera - and like, of course. the stakes are higher for her. she's met so few people ever, and eiffel is the only one who shares her priorities at all. he's the only one who just talks to her. "you've got a lovely ultraviolet halo around your head" is kind of an insane thing to say to a person you just met. but i think that's why it hurt her so much, and stayed with her so long, that he was initially scared of her, and made all of those flippant comments. she always wanted him to get to know her.

(maybe worth noting: both of those scenes include hera "keeping a secret" for the other person, but minkowski tells her directly not to tell anyone, as the commander. hera offers to keep eiffel's.)

hera is never formally introduced to lovelace - when lovelace asks about her, minkowski replies with a very technical description of her role on the station. most of their early interactions are similarly very technical. hera thinks lovelace just sees her as a tool and doesn't speak to her unless she needs something, but the confrontation in do no harm - which i would classify as the first big moment for their dynamic - makes it clear lovelace feels she's keeping a distance from everyone equally, and it isn't because of hera specifically. i think, in many ways, hera and lovelace become... two people in a group of friends who don't really know how to hang out without the others around. when it comes down to it, they have a lot in common and advocate for each other, but... lovelace shows affection by ribbing her friends and hera takes everything very personally, etc. they're both instigators in different ways and kind of clash without a buffer.

kepler... is interesting, because he asks about hera in very technical terms as well, and lets her correct him. it's definitely calculated, and gauging her reaction, but i wouldn't say it's malicious on its own - i don't think he's dehumanizing her, he's just intentionally downplaying how much he knows about the crew already. well, and setting up for...

maxwell. oh boy. okay. yes, it's nice that she knows hera's name right away, and it's nice that she addresses hera specifically + directly. that's the point, isn't it? hera isn't used to that basic courtesy, and it immediately makes her more receptive to maxwell. there's also something to be said about maxwell's much friendlier introduction vs. kepler's professional one - it gives the impression they aren't always on the same page, and so incentivizes hera to trust maxwell even if she doesn't trust the people maxwell is with. and, well, the way maxwell disregards hilbert doesn't hurt either. while i absolutely believe their dislike of him is sincere, i think it is also very intentional manipulation that maxwell talks down to and dismisses hilbert in front of hera, while kepler yells at him in front of eiffel.

we don't see hera's introduction to hilbert (pre-canon and she doesn't like him, makes sense) or jacobi (i don't think he even directly speaks to her until need to know. and she doesn't like him.) but both of them are very dismissive and dehumanizing towards her.

i suppose it's kind of interesting how the si-5 introductions are kind of a warped mirror of the original crew, then - a commanding officer who politely accepts her correction, someone she feels she clicks with, and someone who doesn't even regard her at all.

[laoruna]

Mass Effect Trilogy Appreciation Week - Day 5

Wake up, soldier. No time to rest. Not yet. That’s it. Yes, everything hurts, but you have to ignore it. Get up. You still have a job to do. There you go. Well done. Chest hurts, probably broken ribs. Vision fuzzy, cybernetics are acting up. In arms and legs too. Bio amp fried. Doesn’t matter. Grab your gun. Get going. Straight ahead. Good. Keep moving. Must. Keep. Moving. Come on, soldier. It’s not that far. You’re almost there. What is it, a hundred meters? You had to run kilometers with heavy gear in boot. This is nothing. Just one foot in front of the other. The beam is right there. You can make it. You will make it. You have to. For everyone. Everyone who died for this. Kaidan. Mordin. Thane. Legion. Every soldier whose names you didn’t get to learn. They sacrificed everything for this. For you. You can’t let it go to waste. And you have to do it for everyone still alive. The trillions in the galaxy. For Earth. For the Normandy. Everyone you know and love. Tali. Garrus.

Liara.

That’s it, think about her. You have to save her. Let that drive you. What’s a few broken ribs? Your limbs still work. You can walk. You can fight. You will reach that beam. You will get to the Citadel. You will activate the Crucible. You will stop the Reapers. If not for yourself, then for them. For her. You knew this was most likely a one-way trip. You already said your goodbyes. You’ve been living a borrowed life for the last two years. You were literally built for this. Stop the Reapers. Save Liara. She kept you going through so much. Let her do it one last time. Incoming Husks. Focus on aiming. Good shooting, but no time to rest. You’re coming out of shock. Get ready to take full control. Just a few more meters to the beam. A few steps, then the Citadel, then saving Liara. Watch out, marauder behind the wreckage. It’s injured, you can take it out. Very good. There you are, coming back to yourself. Just in time. Just up this ramp. You made it. Good work, soldier.

You can rest soon.

[sexynetra]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hi besties I lost track of time and uhhh long story short here's your wip Wednesday on a Thursday <3333 Editing is still happening - I want to get this out into the world asap!!

~~~~~~

“Fine, I’ll try it. But you have to teach me how to do it the right way.” Marcia leaned back, watching the minute changes in Anetra’s expression. Marcia had a fleeting impulse to kiss her but she brushed it aside as quickly as it came.

“Alright, you’re the boss. Just watch me.” Marcia preened a little. She liked the sound of that. The boss.

Anetra brought the pipe to her lips, eyes on Marcia as she gestured at the way she was holding the pipe. Marcia tried her best to pay attention, to figure out what to do without making a fool of herself, but she kept getting distracted by Anetra’s hands, missing whatever instructions Anetra was telling her. The way her finger pressed delicately against the small hole on the side of the pipe; the short, bitten-off nails; the easy, practiced way she held it.

She watched Anetra take a short breath and hold it for a moment before blowing a slow, lazy cloud of silver-blue smoke out the window. It was beautiful. Marcia still didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it herself but it was beautiful. Anetra held out the pipe to her and she hesitated, unsure what to do, and certain she was about to look like an idiot.

[ask-dreambert-and-antasma]

Antasma? You're alive??

I'm so glad to see you okay, but how did you survive? I hope you're doing better now!

Also hi Dreambert, I hope you're doing well too!

[crystalballers]

open starter. @devostarters

int. specterscope cinemas, projection booth, almost 12:30am.

not a single, suspicious soul – that isn’t van caddel’s – is supposed to be in that there hotbox, looming over the seats where people should soon file out of a viewing of saw x, but here they all sat: two more people than the firmly-decided-on-three of neil, neil’s bjork  – or bjork’s neil, depending on who showed up with who that day. matters not as they count as one, disturbing unit – the trusty projector’s van and a rotating number of their friends or their friends. only ever possible thanks to mr. lovers thee projectionist and his recent proclivity for taking a few days off the month. neil perched over the painted wooden desk, trying his darndest to nail a trick of the hand with a set of cards recently purchased from o&o to entertain and be entertained with when the door cracks open, ushering in not just an unwelcomed source of light but a presence that would usually warrant brief, stoney panic and a chorus of groans if those weren’t expected tonight  – so long as it it wasn’t lovers, all should go well –  “you’re early.” still engrossed by his failing shuffling hand, neil assumes it’s for the, quoted, ‘not-really-a-party-but-maybe-a-pregame-if-verve’s-the-move kind of hang’ after the last showing of the night but in case that isn’t what they seek nor have they been spared the offhand invite, there’s an addition when his stare finally redirects itself at them. mild frustration begone, in comes a greeting grin and that eternal knack for tugging at one's ponytail, figuratively this once. “still got fifteen more minutes until movie’s over. pussying out already or what?” (said chuckyphobic crybaby)

[y0noirs]

Chapter 11: Underwater A glimpse into a the world (or gym, rather) underwater.

words: 88194 (+6424) characters: yuu, ace trappola, deuce spade, jack howl, cater diamond, azul ashengrotto, jade leech notes: feels like it’s been too long since i last updated 😭 i really apologize for that! but i think i’ve surpassed the biggest hurdles, so that things can keep going smoothly again. we’ve got the atlantica city gym in this chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it! :’) also i did mention it in the notes, but the next couple of chapters will feature some random original characters. you can really just treat them as NPCs (like octavinelle A or heartslabyul B)! they will not be fleshed out further than their names LOL

[mickyschumacher]

[BREAKFAST IN BED!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the racing season is finally over and lando is more than excited to have you all to himself. or in which lando prefers his breakfast in bed with you as the main course.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay, grinding(?), teasing, oral sex/eating out/cunnilingus, fingering, pure moments of fluff because bf!lando is the sweetest, discussion of lando mentally struggling at the start

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: i promised a post before the end of the year and it happens to coincide with a holiday of giving ;) merry christmas and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it! and happy new year! // as usual poorly proof-read ♡︎ (sorry if it's shitty, i haven't written a full-piece in a while)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The season was over. Finally.

Not to be offensive or anything but you had been waiting for this moment for what, this year, felt like forever.

Yes, it was action packed–largely due to the fact that a certain RedBull wasn't winning every race. Yes, McLaren had whipped up the fastest car on the grid to shake things up. And yes, the same team had clinched their ninth World Constructor's Championship.

And while that made you absolutely over the moon, all you had wanted was for some peace and quiet on a random Wednesday morning so you could (maybe creepily) ogle your handsome boyfriend.

Was that too much to ask for?

It had been a tough season for Lando and naturally, as you promised from the very start of your friendship alone–that you would stick by his side no matter what–you had also been through the thick of it.

Convincing Lando to not look at the comments after every session or race had been difficult. You tried your best to remove any negativity that clouded his mind. Some days it worked and some days it didn't.

But that was life. And that was then.

Now you were wide awake at some odd time in the morning, laying comfortably on your stomach with your head turned towards Lando. There was about one degree of separation between the both of you, allowing you to carefully observe him.

Lando was never an early bird. If he was, it would be by some miracle or your upper arm strength pulling him from the sheets. A small smile crept onto your face. You had been friends for years now and together for even shorter. Yet you still couldn't believe that the sleepy bird next to you was yours entirely.

His dark tousled and recently cut curls, the stress lines on his forehead you were always aching to smooth out and comfort with the pad of your thumb, his "perfectly normal sized ears" that you definitely never made fun of, his lovely lashes you were jealous of, and the soft pink lips you couldn't decide whether to touch or kiss.... all yours.

Behind all the stupidity, humour, and claimed 'indifference' Lando sported on camera and with others, you always knew his heart. It was open for everyone and had more than enough love to go around. You were in love with the biggest sap you had ever known.

And on top of all of that, he made it out of that car to you... alive... every goddamn time.

You were luckier than you could ever imagine.

"How long are you going to stare at me, love?" Lando's voice queried, thick with the rasp of the morning and the events of last night.

You slightly widened your eyes, watching him open those beautiful baby blues and land on you. An flustered flush of heat wavered up your skin. You bit your lip before slipping beneath the covers, feeling the warmth envelope your skin entirely. You started with a muttered curse.

"How long have you even been awake, Lan? That's so embarrassing," you chided with a muffled tone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando couldn't help but grin at your sudden shy demeanour. It was hard for anyone to imagine you as shy but he had seen every side of you. How enjoyable it was that even after all these years, he could tease you and see how flustered you could get. If he had met you when you were kids, this is exactly how he imagined you'd be.

He stretched out his taut arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he pulled you over him. He moved your knees so you straddled him.

He pressed his lips to prevent a full blown smile at what he was seeing.

Your hair was fully covering your face, head down and hands hovering over to hide the tinges of pink and red on your skin.

"Baby... come on, love. Show me your face," Lando encouraged, nudging your hair lightly with the side of his finger. "Come on, baby."

You groaned, lifting your head, feeling all your tresses go back. You blankly stared at your boyfriend with burning cheeks. "I hate you," you mumbled, giving him a small glare.

Lando snorted, putting his hands firmly on your waist. His fingers edged up behind the hem of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your bare skin. "You love me. Someone who hates me wouldn't stare at me so lovingly."

"I–" You tried to open your mouth to retaliate but to no avail as you quickly came to the realisation that he was indeed correct. As Lando usually was with these things.

"Fine. You got me," you sighed admittedly, "I just missed waking up next to you in the morning. Is that such a horrible crime?" You dramatically asked, tease heavy in your voice.

In any other situation, Lando would've narrowed his eyes at your teasing but all he could do was gaze softly at you. You weren't able to travel with him all the time and he wasn't able to spend every day with you. You both knew that. And while it sucked, you had both gotten used to it, cherishing when you were together.

But this year... Lando had spent every living second wishing you were next to him. He wanted you to tell him your god awful jokes. To look at him from across the room and take his entire breath, mind, whatever, away. To drop the fake smiles and rest in your arms with all the time in the world.

"No," Lando whispered, warm eyes travelling over your face, trying to find anything new to memorise. Anything he had missed since seeing you. "That isn't a crime. If it was, I'd be guilty as charged."

Your breath hitched while a small shiver trickled down your body as Lando pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. You chewed down on your lip before breaking into a smile gently. "I love you, Lando Norris. Forever," you murmured, placing a brief kiss onto his lips.

Lando stared at you hard, far more awake than he had ever been. He lifted his head slowly, holding you close to him. And without a second thought, he brought his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that different but the need, the love, the softness and the brutal passion was poured into every fibre of your being

Your hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter while your nose glided against his as Lando only just begun ravaging your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans passing your lips.

His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your heated back exactly where the dark freckles he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Lando's ears as he curled his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled path of possessive kisses down base of your skin. He could feel your pulse against his skin and God, he wanted to burn it into his brain and save it.

"Lando," you gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your pillowy bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Lando's bulge.

"Ah, fuck," Lando cursed, feeling his cock throb in his underwear. His eyes fluttered shut, hands immediately returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

You were driving him crazy.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Lando's clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Lando," you moaned his name in his ear, fingers curling into his skin.

Lando opened his eyes, drawing back to capture your face. Your dazed eyes, glowing skin, panting lips, the way your hips bowed towards him... he had missed you. So. Fucking. Much.

"I want breakfast," Lando blurted with a slight gasp as the pleasure rocked through his body.

You stopped moving your hips, body shuddering from the halt. You raised a brow at the sudden desire but shrugged it off considering you were way past breakfast hours and you were only human. "Okay," you responded, about to move off of Lando to head to the kitchen.

Lando reached over, hand pulling your body back towards him, rolling your body so he hovered over you between your legs. "Where are you going?" he tutted, "Breakfast is right here."

You seemed to lose the ability to speak with Lando's hand kneading the flesh of your thighs, implying exactly what he wanted. You breathlessly watched his head move over your body. His tongue lapped at your skin, travelling to any bare patch he could find as though he wanted to feast on you. His warmth made your core tingle as you arched into his touch.

You were positively going to lose your mind.

His hands slid under your shirt, burning your skin until he could fill his palms with your breasts. "Oh baby," Lando moaned, fingers teasing your soft mounds. "I love your tits so fucking much."

A choked cry broke through your lips upon hearing his confession, fingers brushing against your hardened nipple almost painfully slowly. No matter how many times he said it, it set you alight.

"Lando," you moaned loudly, hoping he could read and hear the sound that beckoned him towards your aching core.

He paused, allowing you to take in the heavenly sight of Lando's bare chest, decorated only by the necklace you had gotten him on his birthday last year. In turn, his gaze was only focused on your core.

You tested your lung capacity, taking in a sharp inhale as he pressed his knuckles against your panties, purposely pushing harder against on the ball of your clit. You faltered at the smile sprawling on his face, your hips jolting forward and mouth unable to contain a desperate yelp.

Lando was every inch as desperate as you were, taking no time to waste. His fingers hooked onto your panties and removed them in one swift motion, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Lando nestling his head into your inner thigh, his once light blue eyes now dark and heavy with desire as he inhaled the scent of you. The moan escaping his lips made you shiver.

You were sure you were dripping. You could feel the slick trail down your pussy, glistening in a patient wait to be touched just like you were.

Your eyes fell back to Lando who groaned your name. "I promise to God, I'm going to make you cum so hard that breakfast in bed will be the only option you have," he stated so surely against your skin as his fingers slid from the seam of your entrance to your clit, bundling all your wetness onto his hand.

Oh god.

"Lando, please," you begged shamelessly, legs aching to clench together to relieve the pain of being untouched.

Your legs trembled around Lando's head, his hot breath nearing your pussy while his mouth drew closer. You watched him take you in for the last time before his lips firmly sealed over your aching clit.

The burst of pleasure cut through your body so sharply. Your cry of joy echoed in the late morning, hips bucking against his mouth.

Lando's hands travelled to the outside of your thighs, grasp tightening to keep them spread open on his shoulders. "Keep them open, baby," he ground out.

It took everything in your power to keep your legs from collapsing, particularly as he made his point with another hard to suck to your clit, but you body seemed to follow his command. His mouth returned your wet folds, tongue swirling around every crevice before coming back to the most sensitive part of you, turning you into absolute mush.

Your hands had found their way to those mop of curls you cherished so much, legs trying to conform around Lando's shoulder to welcome any better angle of pleasure.

Your gasp at the sudden dismissal of his mouth was short lived, any chance to complain gone as his fingers pushed into your slick folds, stretching your clenching muscles out.

"Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," Lando encouraged breathlessly as something feral inside of him emerged.

His fingers stroked your swollen walls from the inside, ensuring you felt every inch of them along the sensitive front wall of your pussy while his tongue glazed over every puffy slick fold like you were golden honey.

Lando watched in torture as he pushed his fingers in and out of your walls, your body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you.

"Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, a gleam of your wetness coating his lips. Moving his free hand down your thigh, he gathered your flesh in his fingers before reaching the small bundle of nerves, thumb going in small firm circles.

You were beginning to feel numb. A cold yet hot tightness coiling within your core, waiting to be unleashed. "Lando," you gasped, struggling to keep your head up, "fuck, I–I think I'm going to cum."

"Yes, baby," Lando coaxed, fingers speeding up with every action they had entailed, "Cum for me, please. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love."

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyes to travel to those familiar baby blues. All the trillion nerves in your body felt like entangled knots tied by Lando's tongue while his fingers found the sweetest spot of your pussy and held to you that pinnacle.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip while Lando held your gaze, tongue sliding, curving up, and pushing in and out of every crevice. Your pussy finally succumbed to the hard pressure, clenching muscles squeezing hard at the sharp pinch of pain.

The pain was explosive, searing, and all-consuming.

You cried.

You cried so loudly you were sure your neighbours would be complaining any minute now.

It didn't matter. Not when the pleasure shooting through you was disproportionately and literally blowing you out of this world as though it had been seated and waiting to be released since the dawn of time itself. Your hips bucked and stuttered while you squirmed and writhed against the bed, the fabric of your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin.

Lando's mouth had never left you through your orgasm, tongue still deep in your folds, savouring all the convulses, shudders, and clenches of your body.

Even better yet, he had watched every second of you falling apart.

And it absolutely drove him crazy.

Lando's hand rushed to catch your falling body, holding you up as a small wave of exhaustion crashed into you. You stared at Lando shiftless, still seeing the faint image of floating stars across his face.

Oh my god.

Lando had broken you with his tongue.

You watched Lando lick his fingers clean as you slowly removed your legs from his shoulders. You lifted your head, pressing a long kiss onto his lips.

Lando grinned, cradling his arms around your body as he pushed you both into the bed yet again. He pushed back your slightly greased hair, caressing your cheek gently. "You okay?"

His query made you feel soft all over. You smiled into his hands and nodded. "Perfect," you chirped, hands hanging over his neck.

"So... breakfast in bed?" Lando offered knowingly as he massaged your thighs gently. You were not walking to that kitchen.

You furrowed your brows. "What about my breakfast?"

Lando wanted to question you but as his eyes followed your gaze, the answer became as clear as the aching bulge underneath his boxers.

"Oh."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[saetiate]

close the space (between me and you)

☁  jing yuan x f!reader s.mut, honkai: star rail ☁  reader is afab and goes by she/her. size difference, jing yuan is BUILT and reader is considered shorter/smaller than him, consent is sexy he asks reader if you’re ok to keep going and stuff <3, no plot just fluffy feel good smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), huge dick jing yuan no i do not take criticism. pet names: baby, my love, darling. ☁  A/N: this man is so big and so built i don’t even know how i would have sex with him but i cannot stop thinking about him SIZE DIFFERENCE JING YUAN ohmygod im gonna faint (size difference but like normal size difference yk like he’s just fucking BUILT have u SEEN this man. hes so tall and beautiful) ☁  4.2k words

“Shh, it’s okay…”

He has you straddling him as he coos at you, rubbing his large hands over your arms, calluses both rough and gentle. Your legs are spread so wide over his thighs as your hands press into bare his chest, keeping you steady. Your fingertips trail over scarred tissue and soft skin, your palms pressing into the hard muscle.

When you nervously told him you were ready for him, shifting your weight between your feet and looking up at him like he might just give you the world… He immediately sealed your demure request with a kiss, a promise that he would, masking the way his heart hammers in his chest. He blocked off a whole two days worth of time, said he wanted to make an event out of it, casually delegating Fu Xuan to handle everything.

Now that he’s here with you… he’s determined to be exactly what you deserve.

He’s all gentle smiles, softening eyes as he pulls you in for another kiss, his palms flitting up your thighs, encapsulating them, fingers brushing against the back edge of your skirt.

He’s a little worried, he’ll admit. His body is built for battle, his hands meant to wield heavy swords. But with you, even with you hoisted high over his lap, you’re only at eye-level with him.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, darling,” he voices his concern, his lips trail down to your jaw, pressing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck. “We’re gonna take this slow, okay?”

He runs his thumb over the edge of your panties at your inner thigh, his fingers wrapping around to knead at your buttcheeks. e HHe moves you over him, grinding your clothed core against him.

“J-Jing Yuan…” your hands shake the moment you feel him underneath you, how big he is pressed against his pants. His mouth distracts you from the thought as his lips press against the top of your breast, discarding your shirt and lapping his tongue over the skin.

“So beautiful, so soft,” he remarks almost to himself as his tongue moves under your bra and over your nipple, earning him a gasp from you as your hands run through his cloud-like hair. “You drive me insane, when I look at you, don’t you know?”

You can barely respond, sputtering out nonsense as he unclasps your bra. He looks, feels, even smells like a dream. One of his hands moves to knead at your other breast, thumb over your nipple, your other nipple taken in wholly by his mouth now. He drags his tongue over it, his warm muscle against the sensitive nub, sucking lightly before moving to the other.

In truth, he feels half-insane with want and lust. You start to grind your hips against his all on your own, dizzying his mind, his mouth trailing over your body making you drip between your legs. Your fears about how big he is dissipating as you start to focus on how good it feels, his thighs solid underneath yours, cock heavy as you press your clit up against it for some friction.

“Getting needy, love?” He moves a hand between your legs to cup at your heat, watching with a smile at the way your eyes widen. His one hand envelops around your pussy whole, rough callouses pressing against the edges of your panties.

“You’re so warm, and already wet…” he whispers next to your ear, taking the opportunity to run his teeth over your earlobe, sucking softly. His fingers press against the wet spot of your panties, thumb running softly over your clit. He chuckles as he hears you gasp and arch into him.

“Sensitive, too, I see,” he kisses your cheek, pulling down the side of your panties slightly to slide a finger over your bare sex, your pulse quickening with each stroke as he toys with you, your slick coating his fingertips.

“Won’t you let me in, sweetheart? Let me make you feel good, hmm? Wanna watch you come undone on my fingers, is that okay? Maybe I’ll make you cum twice, have to get you ready for me, don’t I?”

You moan and nod just at the thought, just at his words. His smile borders on mischievous as watches your face scrunch up whilst he presses a finger to your entrance, and all you can think is that it’s so much thicker than your own as he slides it slowly past the first knuckle, then the second.

“Mm, good girl, opening up so well for me. Maybe you’d let me do anything to you, hm?” He kisses your forehead as his finger slides out before pumping back in. “You never have to worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He’ll take care of you, it echoes in your mind as you nod, feeling him smile against your skin as you say “yes, you can have me.” Between gasps, you say “yes, anything, Jing Yuan.” He feels himself get harder at the sound of you, at the way you fall apart with just one finger as he crooks it towards your front, as his thumb joins with your clit.

“Do you ever touch yourself like this?” He asks to distract you as he bullies another finger pass your entrance, your tightening thighs and the way you jump away slightly is calmed down by his hand stroking your back, his thumb at your clit bringing pleasure to the slight stretch.

“I-,” you grip onto his shoulders as the second finger slides in, your slick becoming more audible as he presses deep inside of you.

“Hm?” He taps your clit lightly as a gesture for you to finish.

“I-I touch myself, yes,” you whine as he rewards you for answering, pressing small circles around your clit. “I- sometimes, I think of you.”

He swears he feels his mind blank as he groans under his breath, just thinking of you with your fingers between your legs, moaning his name so prettily like you are right now, has him pressing his against your g-spot a little harder.

He quickly masks his lust with a smile, his light-hearted demeanour teetering.

“I think of you too, love.”

“What-,” you gulp, your stomach flipping even as you ask, “What do you think about?”

Does he dare say it? All the unholy things that have crossed his mind with you? “I think about the way you’d look bouncing on my cock in my lap. I think about your thighs.” He grabs one of them for good measure, his movements a little rougher as he coaxes you closer to the edge, chuckling as he listens to your mewls, how listening to him has you tightening up around his fingers. “Yeah, love, feels good? Fuck, I think about laying you out on the table and eating you out. I think about sliding into you with your knees pressed to your chest.”

He stuffs another finger into you as you get wetter from his words, the stretch only pushing you higher. You grip at his shoulders haphazardly, feeling the hard muscle that moves under your hands.

“That’s it, baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? We can do anything you like.” He quickens his pace, lets you chase him for more stimulation on your clit, whispers sweet nothings in your ear until he commands you to “come for me, come like the good girl you are,” and within seconds you’re gripping his arms and tumbling over, your thighs tightening and splaying your essence all over his hand.

“Made a mess all over my pants,” he whispers teasingly as you come down, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I- Jing Yuan, don’t you…” you reach your hand down between you both to palm at his member, the deep groan he lets out might just be the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. Even just this makes his hips buck into your hand, cock twitching. He lets you play with him for a while, watches as you struggle at his belt, chuckling at your frustrations until the metal clicks away and you’re able to finally slide that zipper of his down.

He swears you might just know what you’re doing, noticing the difference between your hand over his pants and then over his underwear, how the warmth of your palm seeps past the fabric. Your eyes widen as you wrap your hand around him, bottom lip trembling between your teeth as you realize you’re meant to take all that.

“Jing Yuan…” you whisper, like you’re telling him a secret, “I- I don’t think it’ll…”

“Shh, darling. That’s alright. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

“N-no! I want to! I just-”

He presses a kiss between your breasts as he speaks, smiling at you cheekily before lifting you up with one arm and gently laying you down onto the bed, all so he can continue to kiss down your stomach, lifting your skirt up to kiss at the top of your thighs before removing your skirt.

“If you want to, we’ll make it work, okay? We’ll go slow, didn’t I say?”

“Jing Yuan, you’re so-,” attentive, you want to say, only he places a kiss right at the band of your panties, and you lose all your thoughts at the sight.

He takes pride in making you speechless, his teeth grazing right at the apex of your thigh as he takes the fabric between his teeth, sliding the side of your panties down to your thigh, his wet lips leaving a trail over your exposed skin. His golden eyes glitter up at you, at the way you pant whilst watching him.

He does the same with the other side, the middle of your panties still sticking to your core, only separating as he pulls them down all the way, watching how your slick pools within, then bringing his eyes to the source.

“J-Jing Yuan, you’re staring…”

He chuckles. “You’re just so pretty for me, lying there waiting for me, aren’t you?” he spreads your legs wide past his shoulders, his breath ghosting over your core, pressing a wet kiss against your clit that has you trembling underneath him.

“You’re gonna cum for me one more time, yeah?” he asks so sweetly, his eyes full of love and lust as they flit between your face and your pussy, he brings a hand up to slowly spread your core with his fingers. “You gonna answer me, princess?”

“Y-Yes, gonna- gonna cum one more time…”

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. You gotta, so that I can give you all of me, yeah?”

He slots his tongue against your heat, lapping enthusiastically at every drip of your slick. The warm, wet muscle is wide against your core, encompassing it with his saliva, kitten licking from the bottom all the way up to your clit. You squeal and whine above him, legs threatening to close only for his hands to press them apart even further, your hands gripping the sheets.

“Jing Yuan! Oh, fuck, it’s- you’re so good,” you make the mistake of looking down at him, his twinkling eyes and obvious smile that presses against your cunt. He takes the opportunity of you watching him to swipe his tongue over your clit, the tip of his tongue visibly playing with the hard nub, circling it. Your head falls back onto the pillow, eyes shutting tight as you let out a soft scream.

“Mm, love the way you taste,” he groans into you, savoring the taste of you over and over again, pushing his tongue inside of you before dragging it back out to flick the tip of it against your clit. It’s insane how he has you arching your back, your hips begging to catch up to his tongue as he teases you by moving his mouth away from your clit and back towards it.

“So needy,” he smiles, your slick dripping down his chin. He loves to watch you like this, loves to watch you lose control over yourself because of him, the throbbing in his pants so evident to him as your mouth opens in a soft “o”. He grinds his hips into the bed, his cheeks flushed between your thighs, nipping at your inner thigh to tease you only to lap into your folds once again.

“Jing Yuan, I-,” your hands interlink with his, stabling yourself to him. It’s sweet, romantic, even more so as he mouths at your core. Your gasps get louder, your back starts to arch as your hips eagerly press into his mouth.

“I know, baby. Just relax and let go whenever you’re ready, okay?” His palms press against your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide, his strength apparent as it leaves you unable to move them no matter how much you thrash. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t let you run away, only holds you as close to his mouth as he can as your slick gushes into his mouth. He suckles on your clit through every shockwave, even as you press your hand to his head, panting that it’s too much, too much! It’s only when your legs thrash that he lets up, a satisfied grin on his glossed face, wiping at it with the back of his hand.  

You moan at the sight, fitfully grabbing at his strong arms to come back up. “Please, I want- Can we-?”

Your words scatter as he hovers over you, one hand pressed against the headboard, delving down for a quick kiss, letting you taste yourself lightly. “Can we what, hm?” He smiles.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, his hair tickling your neck. “I want you, wanna have you.”

Jing Yuan pulls back, his hands running up and down your thighs. Like this, you can see his scarred torso, your hands moving along the ridges and bumps of his abs. “Speak clearly, love. What exactly do you want?”

Your hand moves to your face, looking away from him as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“Oh? Shy now, are we?” He takes your wrist in his hand, eyes twinkling as he bends back down to nip at your ear to whisper. “Weren’t so shy when you were cumming on my face, now were you?”

You try to smack him with your other hand, only for him to catch that wrist swiftly too. He holds them in one hand, bringing them above your head. “Now then, won’t you ask nicely?”

“I-,” your hips move to grind against his member, but the friction is not nearly enough with the way he’s purposefully keeping away from you. “I want you… inside of me. Jing Yuan, I-”

He presses his clothed length against you, a reward that has you immediately panting for more.

“Keep going, love.”

“Want- want you to fuck me, Jing Yuan, Wanna- wanna feel you inside of me. Wanna have you here.” You wrap your hands around his, and he lets you move them, placing his hand just above your core.”

His eyes darken at that, and he shifts for a moment to remove his pants before returning, his hard length immediately capturing your attention as he lays it against your stomach.

“You’re gonna have me right here,” he taps your skin and you swallow. That can’t possibly fit. “You see that, my love?”

You reach down, wrapping a hand around the base of him, experimentally moving your hand up and down. He moans, deep and beautifully, his own hand around yours.

“Want you now, Jing Yuan.”

“Okay, baby, okay.” He finally moves, pressing your legs open from the back of your thighs, your knees high on either side of you. He takes his member in his hand, pressing the head to your core, pressing slightly. And just when you think he’s going to press in more, he glides it over your clit, then back again.

“Jing Yuan!” you whine, his smirk evident before he gives in, sliding into you slowly. He brings his mouth down to your neck, kissing and nipping at you to distract you from the stretch. One of his hands goes to your nipple, playing with it softly, then descends down to tap at your clit.

You can’t believe the way your body opens up for him, your pussy achingly taking him. He thrusts in and out shallowly before pushing more of himself in, and just when you think it’s all in, you look down to where his gaze is locked only to see inches of his dick still outside of you, slick with the wetness that drips down from you.

You whimper into his shoulder at the sight, and he immediately catches your gaze and brings it back to his face. “Shh, you’re almost there, baby.”

“You’re- you’re so-,” you don’t even know how to get the words out, you feel so full to the point that it’s hard to breathe. As your cunt welcomes him and he reaches the hilt, his balls press against you, a satisfied sigh releasing from him, kissing your forehead and allowing you to adjust.

“You did so good, love. You’re such a good girl.” He kisses both your cheeks. “You’ve taken me so well already.”

You cry into his neck at the praise, and he kisses you, tongue lapping at your lips. “Feels so full, oh, Jing Yuan…” Your breaths shake and he pulls out just slightly before pushing back in again, slowly and shallowly, just getting you used to the feeling until you’re whining and pulling at him.

“You’re so tight around me, baby.” Your vice grip around him has him doing all that he can to take this slow, a reminder of how small your figure is compared to his.

“Please, Jing Yuan. I need you. Need you so bad.”

“You need me, darling?” he chuckles darkly, pressing himself deep inside of you only to slowly pull himself out again, making you feel every inch and vein with the friction. “Why don’t you show me then, hmm? Beg all pretty for me, won’t you?”

That’s all it takes for you to start babbling pleasepleaseplease over and over again as Jing Yuan sinks his cock into you in tandem, his soft sighs against your cheek as he kisses you.

“You’re doing so good for me, darling. Just like that.” He brings his lips over your jaw, nibbling against your skin before descending down your neck. His hot breath trails over your skin, almost distracting you from the stretch of his cock as he presses another aching inch into you.

“So- so full,” you tell him, desperation in your throat and his cock so deep it feels like it might be in your guts. He chuckles at that, pressing down on your stomach, eliciting a whine from you.

“You rile me up,” his breath ghosts over your cheek, sliding out just an inch before pressing into you again. “You feel that, baby? I’m so hard for you. You have no idea what you do to me.”

There’s nothing that gasps out of you other than his name as he begins to move, large hands gripping your waist, his torso beading with sweat as he does his damn best to fuck into you shallowly.

“Jing Yuan- you can-”

He slides his thumb over the sensitive junction of your thigh, caressing your skin as he swoops in for a kiss.

“I can what, baby?”

“You can go- faster,” you exhale, breathless, of soul and mind and heat. He kisses your forehead with reverence, never taken for granted, always with his whole heart.

“Okay, love,” he grumbles into your skin, and then the pace picks up the way that you want, the way you deserve. His strong thighs flex as he presses your legs open, wider, rests part of his weight into you as your gasps turn into silent screams. You bring him in closer to you, and he leans in with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, bending down to your chest. It’s in direct contrast to the way his hips slam into you, jerking the bed. He brings an arm to the bed frame, and it creaks under his weight.

“That how you want it? Hmm?” You’re so close now, he can see it. From the way you gasp and moan and babble under him, to the wetness that coats the inside of your thighs. He brings his other hand down between your body, rests a thumb lightly against your clit, and your back arches in response. He’s heavy in every way, from his body weight pressing down onto you to his dick inside of you to his gaze as it roams over every inch of you. His pace slows down just so he can watch your body contort when he taps over your clit, and then it picks up again, his hair a mess over his shoulder, his groans a ghost over your ear.

“You look so beautiful. Wanna watch you cum one more time.” His breaths come heavier now, he’s doing his best to ignore the way his dick throbs at the way you open up underneath him. “Go ahead, baby. Let go for me.”

It’s like a command, a dam breaking. Your mind bluescreens and your body reacts on its own, legs kicking out, your thighs doing their best to press together only to be trapped wide open by Jing Yuan’s body. He watches your every reaction, cupping the back of your neck like some sort of protection as your body squeezes like a vice over his dick. He’s so hard but it’s just background chatter to the way he can’t even move whilst you orgasm. He tells you how lovely you are, how much he loves you, but you don’t register it until you finally start coming down.

“Jing Yuan,” you sob his name and he hushes you immediately. “You’re -oh, fuck – you’re still-”

“Shh, yes. Look what you’ve done to me, hmm?” His cock is coated in your slick, he pumps into you once and the oversensitivity is all you can think about. “I know, baby. Just a little bit more, okay?”

He switches positions then, and oh, you didn’t think he could get deeper but somehow it feels like he is. He presses your legs close to you so your knees are pressed against your chest, his eyes glazed dark as you sob and your cunt throbs. He thrusts hard, over and over again into you and your next orgasm is wholly unexpected, from nothing but overstimulation and the hot, hot heat between your legs as he hits something inside of you over and over, a high-pitched something leaving your throat. He cums, finally, with a groan deep in his throat. Warmth fills you and slick pools at the base of his cock with a filthy, white rim that froths.

It hits something in him, makes him feel overprotective as he moves to hold you in his arms, caging you in with a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Good girl. Thank you, baby. You did so good. Was that okay?” There’s another wet kiss to your cheek before you navigate his mouth to yours, tongues mingling. There’s a deep, satisfied smile on his face when you both finally break apart that you can’t help but match, running a thumb over his dimple.

“That was incredible,” you tell him honestly, your hands cupped around his face, and he beams back. He slides himself out of you, his thumb moving to between your legs. His cum is still warm as he watches it ebb out of you, milky white a mess between your legs. It webs between your thighs and he wants nothing more than to take a photo, the sharp intake of breath he takes makes it clear to you.

His eyes graze back to your face and he smiles again, patting the inside of your thigh. “Let me help you get cleaned up, love, okay?”. You whine at the loss of him but he’s lightning quick, a damp towel in his hand as he wipes it over you, starting from your shoulders. It’s gentle over your sensitive breasts and down your stomach, to the outside of your thighs and your calves. He takes another towel to wipe between your legs.

You’re not sure if it’s the domesticity, or the care, or the post-orgasm haze, but you’re pulling him in again the moment he’s done, holding his body close under the sheets.

“Was that okay for you too?” You ask him, and he nods without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful, you’re incredible,” a chaste kiss follows to your lips, “and I love you.”

[pathologicalreid]

and it feels like home | s.r.

in which Spencer confesses his love to you at the oddest of places - your sister's wedding

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: could be angst if you know what's coming next, jareau!reader, down bad!spencer, yearning, reader feels unlovable, spencer drinks champagne, reader does not drink, reader is shorter than spencer, reader wears a dress and heels word count: 1.93k a/n: and just like that, margovember is over (i have one more request for it technically but it's an episode rewrite so that'll take me longer to write). i was in need of some good yearning - this covers a request for their first kiss and for a fic with francesca by hozier levels of yearning.

You allowed yourself to be led away from the party. The past twenty-four hours had been amassed of you running around like a headless chicken, trying to put together your sister’s one-step-below shotgun wedding. Now that the party was in full swing, you willingly followed Spencer through the garden, a few remaining speeches going on in the background as the two of you rounded a corner, out of sight of party guests. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were leading me away from everyone to kill me,” you said offhandedly, adjusting the way your shawl fell over your shoulders.

Instead of looking up at Spencer, your eyes homed in on the way he was holding your hand as if he were about to lift it and press a kiss to your knuckles. Butterflies flurried in your stomach at the thought, but you quickly dewinged them, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

Something was wrong with Spencer; you could see it in the way he was shaking his hands. It looked like he was trying to get excess water off of them or if there was energy trying to exit via his fingertips. You were worried about him, sometimes he fidgeted when he was craving—though you’d only seen him in that state once before and you couldn’t ascertain what would have triggered him.

“I have to talk to you,” he repeated the same words that he’d told you when he first took your hand back at the gazebo. He had to be preparing to tell you something awful, you could tell from the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you finally glanced up at him. Deep brown irises flittered around, noticing each small detail that you and Dave had plotted out, but he never noticed you.

The blue dress that you had picked out to go well with the flowers and your hair was previously pinned to perfection but had since fallen out while you tried to sort out a last-minute issue with the caterers, but he didn’t seem to take mind of any of it. For better or for worse, you supposed. “What do you need, Spence?” You asked him, cocking your head and trying not to notice the twinkle in his eye when you called him ‘Spence.’ You promised yourself months ago that you’d stop waiting for someone who would never want you back.

You just couldn’t seem to get away from Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that you saw yourself as undesirable, but a small part of yourself was under the impression that if he hadn’t made a move yet, it was never going to happen. He knew too much about you; he’d been the one to pick you up off of the floor when your last relationship fell apart. You wondered if he felt the same way, recalling the night you spent on his bathroom floor because you were terrified of finding a needle in his vein.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Spencer finally spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you nervously. You eyed him curiously, the question faintly reminiscent of something a man would ask you if he were making small talk.

Foolishly, you had thought that you and Spencer had been well past small talk at this point, “No,” you answered, dragging out the vowel. “You already knew that, though,” You had talked to him about it last night when the subject of weddings came up, naturally.

He nodded in confirmation, “Right, yeah. Yes, I just needed to make sure before I started this conversation.” Spencer glanced over his shoulder as if he were being watched, or maybe he wanted to make sure no one saw the two of you in close vicinity.

You squinted at him, trying to get a feel for what he wanted to talk about without outwardly profiling him. “What conversation?” You asked, feeling like you were enveloped in a spiraling line of questioning—like you’d never get a straightforward answer.

“Do you remember this time last year? We’d just finished that sex trafficking case, and we were finishing paperwork late in the office, and you asked me if I’d ever been in love,” he said, panting like he was running a marathon. “I told you no, and at the time that was the truth. However, the circumstances have changed.”

Your stomach flipped, surging well past butterflies at this point as your face warmed—what was he trying to say?

He finally dropped your hand, resorting to placing each of his hands on your waist, stopping you from pulling away. Spencer felt impossibly close to you, even though the two of you had irrefutably been closer together, but not even an embrace would match up with the look he was giving you now. “I couldn’t let myself love you, not while you were in a relationship. It felt cruel to me, and it felt cruel to you because you had a boyfriend. It feels like we’ve already lived a lifetime together when we’ve never truly been together,” he told you, gently squeezing your waist as he spoke animatedly.

Instinctively, you took a step back from him, your breathing faltered slightly when you saw hurt flash in his eyes, “Why?” Your voice was no more than a breath, an appalled, exasperated breath. “Why here? Why now, Spence? We’re at my sister’s wedding,” you placed a hand on your chest “Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Spencer was shaking his head before you’d even finished speaking, “No, it has to be now. I need to do this now,” desperation crept into his tone as he stepped forward, practically caging you against the siding of Rossi’s mansion.

You didn’t feel trapped, though, even with Spencer’s arms on either side of you, he was still Spencer. “Why now, Spence?” You peered up at him through your mascara-covered lashes. Maybe this was a consequence of his environment, surrounded by an evening that was sure to involve declarations of love, so he elected to make one of his own with you as a victim.

“Because I thought you were in that building,” he said exasperatedly, wide brown eyes watching you as if the answer had been completely obvious the entire time.

Realization dawned over you as you recalled the events from a few days ago: the bank robbery turned explosion that somehow ended in a marriage proposal. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you eyed Spencer curiously, “You thought I’d gotten hurt.”

Spencer sighed, “I thought you were dead.” His eyes were trained on yours like there was nothing else in the world for him to look at, “For a moment, I lived my worst nightmare because I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and I was stuck in Quantico with no way to reach you.”

Everything about the explosion was hazy, everyone was shouting for someone else, and you thought you’d imagined someone calling your name. You’d convinced yourself you were hearing things, some sort of after effect of the blast, but Spencer had been looking for you. “Spence,” you whispered, unable to gather the words you were so desperately searching for.

He shrugged helplessly, “I can’t go another day without telling you I love you.”

You felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repeatedly, unsure if you were on the verge of laughter or tears. “You never showed… I didn’t think—”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who I have a hard time reading, and I thought… I thought that if I waited for you someday, you’d realize that you love me too. I sat and I waited, and I helped you get over your ex and I am so grateful for you and your friendship, but it’s not enough for me,” he told you, no longer panting. This was Spencer completely levelheaded, emphatically declaring his love for you. “I need more of you and I can’t wait any longer.”

Eventually, the jig would be up. Someone would jump out from the bushes, and they’d let you know that you were indeed being Punk’d, but right now you were just looking into the eyes of someone who loved you. It would seem that no one else had ever truly loved you before, because the look Spencer was giving you could only be defined as love, yet it was unfamiliar to you. “You love me?” You asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at you, “I love you in ways that no one has ever loved anyone before, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay,” you breathed, eyes studying his expression for any hint of regret.

“Would you allow me that?” He stepped away, dropping his arms at his side, “I know I cornered you tonight, and it’s perfectly fine if you don’t have an answer for me tonight, but I’d wait years for you if that’s what it took.”

You were shaking your head as you took the opportunity to step toward him, propping yourself up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, the picture-perfect moment for the two of you. Perhaps you startled him at first because it took him a moment to wrap his arms around you, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he pulled your body flush with his.

His lips tasted like champagne, and the soft tinge of the alcohol on your mouth only served to intoxicate you further, even though you yourself didn’t drink from a flute.

The universe had a funny way of working in your favor, and this time, it had given you your first meeting with Spencer almost four years ago. You had nearly two years of friendship under your belt now, which is why it was so easy for you to pull away from him slightly, grinning against his lips as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Spencer kissed you again, moving one of his hands to gently cup your jaw, moving his velvet soft lips against yours with purpose and care. Your arms were thrown over his shoulders, elbows crossing at the nape of your neck to support you. You’d have to get used to the height difference, and you’re sure you will.

“Hey, Y/N,” Someone called out, and the two of you bolted away from each other like opposite charges, “I think it’s about time to cut the cake, your— Oh.”  

It seems the two of you did not move fast enough, for you were now faced with Emily and her knowing gaze. Your eyes flickered over to Spencer just briefly before you looked back at Emily, “Okay,” you responded to her, your voice hoarse, “I’ll let the caterers know.” You started your trudge to the backyard, picking up your feet so your heels wouldn’t dig into the grass. “Are you coming?” You turned and faced Spencer; a watercolor pink brushed across his cheeks.

“I’ll be right there,” he answered, giving you a soft, patented Spencer smile.

You looked nervously over at Emily, dreading the fact that this thing between you and Spencer was barely fledgling and the team was already going to be aware. “You know,” she started, and you braced yourself for the teasing, “London’s a pretty good place to keep a secret.”

Mouthing a thank you to her, the two of you stepped forward, turning around only when Spencer called out your name one last time, “Save me a dance?”

You laughed slightly at the dopey grin he bore on his face before nodding, “For you? Always.”  

[saekkas]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

summary: in which someone flirts with them, but they're only looking at you.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

notes: this one's shorter than the one before but still, go wild my loves <3

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐘 who values you very much. is the type to be very secure in the relationship; doesn't like any unnecessary drama and is definitely ready to move onto the next stage. wouldn't really care about the other person but will not tolerate having his boundaries crossed. especially when it's clear that he's yours and yours only.

isagi, yukimiya, bachira, nagi.

his eyes are on his phone, feet tapping against the tiles of the cafe. it's a hole in the wall that he's used to frequenting with you, so much that the staff know your orders by heart. the line is short, seats mostly empty, as the rush hour has passed. the rain is pouring against the window beside him, and he taps his finger on the table to their rhythm.

tilting his head, his eyes find you in the middle of the line. you're focused on the menu, your bottom lip between your teeth as you scan the list of food and beverages. it makes him smile, chuckling under his breath because he knows you'll end up getting what you usually do. he gets onto his feet, wallet in hand, when you're finally set to order.

"hi. good morning, how are you?" your sweet voice tickles his ear as he approaches, his heart warm and sated as you go through your usual routine.

"hey." he presses a kiss to your head, wrapping a hand around your waist. his lips trail down, stopping at your cheek, a smile pressed against the skin as he hears you giggle. "what's taking so long?"

the cashier smiles, amused at the sight. "mornin' i'm great. how about you two lovebirds?"

"we're good," he answers for you both, an easy-going expression on his face. he looks down, scrunching his nose at you while you giggle at his answer. "just waiting for this angel to finish ordering."

"we'll have matcha latte, caramel macchiato, and a blueberry cheesecake please. the usual." he tilts his head, looking for your confirmation. he smiles proudly, chest puffing when you nod your head.

"i'll pay," you say as you show your card to the cashier, smiling at her. he chuckles, letting you take the bill this time. "how much will it be?"

the drinks are out in a second, the green and brown a contrast against each other. there are two pairs of utensils on the plate, and he thanks the staff for their work, taking the tray into his hand. "i'll take these to our table first, okay?" he looks over his shoulder, a gentle look in his eye as he processes just how... domestic this all feels.

"yeah, i'll be there in a minute. i need to go to the bathroom." you smile at the cashier one last time, tucking your purse into your bag. you glare playfully, poking your tongue at him. "don't you dare finish the cheesecake before i'm back."

he pokes his tongue back, a laugh breaking loose from his chest. "no promises."

he sits back down, placing the food on the table as he goes back to drumming his fingers. the rain doesn't look as if it'll be stopping any time soon, wind combining with water to shower the earth clean. he looks at his watch, mentally thinking about making dinner later with you. a smile grows at the thought.

there's a shadow in the corner of his eye that he assumes is you. he smiles, ready to lean over and press a kiss, only to stop when his eyes meet a stranger instead. "sorry." he backs away, a furrow in his eyebrow as he looks around, searching for you. "you've got the wrong table."

"no. it's okay. i've definitely got the right table." the stranger lays it thick with a high-pitched tone, and fluttering eyelashes. "hi, handsome. here's my number."

he watches as she slips a piece of paper onto the table, confusion blending into annoyance when she leans over to take his hand. "look," he says with a frown, pushing his hands into his pockets. he's very obviously looking in the direction you went off in. "you've got the wrong table and i'm already with someone."

"ah but i don't see this someone?" the smile on her face is pushing at his limits. his jaw ticks when she moves to sit beside him. "c'mon, handsome. give me a chance."

the bathroom door by the end opens with a creak, and his head snaps at the sound. before she has time to reach over once again, he's quick to swerve away to your side. you're already eyeing the girl at your table with curiosity, your head tilted in question. "hey, who's that? one of your frien-"

he doesn't let you finish. he's quick to reach for your waist, tugging you into a kiss with a hand cupping your cheek. all negative feelings drain from his limbs, turning him into a puddle of love as you thread your fingers into his hair.

"as much as i love your kisses," you say with a gasp of breath as you look up into his eyes, finding love looking back at you through the orbs. "that was a bit sudden. did something happen?"

"not at all." he shakes his head, nuzzling into your nose. his hands are on the side of your neck, lovingly stroking the skin. "not now that you're here."

you look back at your table, seeing it empty, and the girl from before nowhere in sight.

"shall we enjoy our drinks?" he pushes you with the hand he has on your waist. he sits down first before pulling you to sit right beside him, your hands intertwined under the table. "can't wait to eat dinner with you later."

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. he won't say no to playful flirting since it feeds his ego but will only respond if you're somewhere near or in his field of vision. he won't give the other person any of his attention if you aren't. will think it's funny that they're trying their best but will either shoot them down in a way that crushes their pride or brush them off as if they don't exist.

reo, aiku, karasu, kaiser.

the bass is thrumming against his skull, a tune that doesn't fit the mall's calm and serene energy. he's sitting on one of those plush sofas in a clothing store outlet, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he waits for you to finish changing. he feels the warning glare the manager's sending, and he snorts as if trying to go into the dressing room with you is a crime. he would be so much more satisfied with you between four cramped walls than in the wide space where people are obviously gawking at him.

"excuse me." someone calls his name timidly, and he cocks his head towards them, wanting to see where this goes. they send him a smile, one that's too teethy and falsely sweet but hey he can't fault them for not flashing his favorite smile; they aren't you after all.

"yes?" his reply is short and blunt, but he sighs when the girl flinches away. you've always said that his resting face looked too mean. he chuckles at the thought.

shaking himself out of his daydream, he shows his best smile. he leans back, arm stretched out against the back of the couch as he adjusts his pose, manspreading. a peacock, you'd once muse when he first did it in front of you. he watches with thinly veiled boredom in his eyes, a juxtaposition to the sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. "can i help you with something?"

the girl flushes, biting her lip and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. being coy, he realizes with an amused scoff.

"sorry to bother you. it's just- you looked so bored. i thought i could entertain you."

his eyebrow quirks at the word entertain, tilting his head in mock curiosity. "and how would you do that, hm?" he takes her in, taking in her choice of clothing and hairstyle. cute he'd give that much to her. nothing like you, though. she couldn't compare.

he realizes belatedly that the once over was seen differently than what he meant for it to come across. amusement flickers in his eyes when she flushes a bright red, fidgeting on her spot. "you do this often?" he tilts his head, eyes half-lidded, trying to gauge her reaction. "flirting with random strangers in the mall of a hobby, eh?"

"just the handsome ones," she says with a giggle. he watches as she points a finger to the row of clothes, her interest clear as day. "how about we look around? buy some clothes or jewelry so we match."

he chuckles, shaking his head at the thought. he can't wait to tell you about this. right on cue, the door to your dressing room opens, and you step out. his breath gets stuck in his throat, his eyes widening, and a grin making its way to his lips.

the black dress you have on is nothing short of stunning. it tapers off to your knees, the material hugging your curves. he sends you an eager look, one which you giggle at. you turn, showing him the back of the dress, keeping eye contact as you do. his mouth falls and thoughts short circuit as his eyes rake down your bare back, stopping just before your bum.

oh the things he'll do to you in that dress. no wonder the manager was so adamant on not letting him join in on the fun.

"nah," he says distractedly at the girl still waiting for his response. he sends you a wink and a flirty smile, mouthing one moment, before turning back to her. "see that gorgeous specimen right there? yeah i'm hers."

"she and i, we match." his eyes are filled with mischief as he tugs his shirt down, showing off the collection of marks you left on him last night. the skin around his collarbone is red, purple, and bruised. littered with love bites. a symbol of your love he thinks smugly. "see?"

there's pride blooming in his chest, a smug smile forming on his face the moment her eyes widen and the color drains from her face. "i'm not interested in anyone who's not her. so scram." he's quick to wave her away, skipping over to tug you back into the fitting room, this time with him in it.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐂𝐄, the type to literally not care at all. will not give them time of day and will appear hostile if necessary. but he'll mostly just look at them, expressionless with dead eyes.

sae, rin, kunigami

there are so many options to choose from, he frowns, glaring at the row of refrigerators stacked next to each other as if they've done something wrong. the supermarket is relatively busy, customers ranging from middle schoolers to elderly. he's in the drink section, passing one fridge to another, looking for your favorite drink from outside the glass, his frowning reflection looking back at him.

you're somewhere in the dairy section, picking out pints of ice cream, and who knows what else. he checks his phone, checking for any new messages from you. i'll head over soon, after i find the popcorn, it reads along with multiple hearts and photos of you smiling beside the ice cream. he shakes his head, tapping a finger against the screen to save the photos.

he pockets his phone, ready to move on to the next isle when he bumps into someone. he huffs, his eyes looking at the girl that's staring right back at him.

"really?" she says with a flirty giggle after she gets a clear look at his face. he remains stoic, hands in his pocket, even as she nudges him on the shoulder as if a longtime friend. "you're handsome but if you don't say sorry when you bump into someone, they'll lose interest. but maybe that's your charm."

he moves to slight past her, not at all caring about her presence, but before he knows it, she's stuck a hand into his back pocket, sending a kiss playfully before bounding over somewhere he doesn't give a damn about. the frown on his lips deepens, but before he has the chance to look into his pocket, you pop up right beside him.

"hey, i can't find the drinks but i've got everything else." he hears you say as you show him your basket full of things, smiling up at him. there are all kinds of things in the basket, ranging from chocolate, popcorn, ice cream, sausages, and many more. tonight is monthly movie night and he tries to shake off the weird encounter from his mind, not wanting to dampen the mood.

he smiles back, leaning down to take the basket from you. the hoodie you have on is his, and it dwarves you. the hem reaches your knees, and he can't see your hands which makes him chuckle all the while more. you told him that you were cold, he knows it's just another excuse to wear his hoodie.

"let's go home." he ruffles a hand through your hair, affection getting the best of him, before taking your hand with his other.

he drops the basket on the self-checkout counter, and helps you scan all the necessary items. he eyes the chupa-chups by the counter and grabs two, strawberry and cola, scanning both and handing them for you to choose. he chuckles when you brighten, choosing the strawberry for yourself.

"i'll take the bags." he takes both bags into his left hand, the other placing itself on your back. he leads you out, shaking his head in amusement when he feels you slip your hand into his back pocket.

"hey what's this?" the tone of your voice has him frowning. "i didn't know you smoke. it's bad for you, ya know?"

looking down at the cigarette in your hand, he eyes the scribble of numbers surrounding the stick. ah that's what she slipped in, he sighs. taking the cigarette from you, he's quick to throw it to the ground, crushing it with his foot.

"i don't," he chuckles at the look of disbelief on your face. leaning in, he plucks the candy from your mouth, pressing a kiss and pushing his tongue in. you taste sweet from the candy he notes, you smell like ice cream too. he's quick to pull back, chuckling when he realizes just how flustered you've become.

"i prefer sweets," he says with a smug smile before popping the candy into his own mouth.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

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Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[nicholasluvbot]

EVERYTIME WE TOUCH ( &TEAM )

. . . o r ✶ &team when their s/o's love language is physical touch !

genre. gn!reader , est. rel , fluff wc. 2K ( around 200 words per member ) warnings. reader is shorter than k , jo is called 'pumpkin' (affectionately) requested. 'heyy i love your works sm <3 could you write headcanons for &team when their partner's love language is physical touch? that is, only if you want to! thank you <3 note. count how many times i've said 'kisses' for maki

— MASTERLIST !

K

loves it. loves it so so much. would let you cling to him like a koala and carry you around with him if you wanted, no questions asked.

when he first notices your love lang, he's delighted cause he loves physical touch just as much. "it's like we're meant to be!" he says.

gives you long hugs after bad days and never pulls away first. and since he's so much taller than you, expect soft kisses on the top of your head all the time.

doesn't mind when you give him bear hugs and refuse to let go in the morning, even if it means that he'll be late for work.

especially loves it when you're affectionate and touchy in public, or around the members, because that way everyone knows that he's yours.

his favorite moments are those when he makes you laugh so hard that you tumble into his arms, clutching your sides cause he's so funny that it hurts, and wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace to steady you. he's happy that he can make you laugh like this, because your laughter is the best sound in the world.

FUMA

would rarely ever initiate physical touch, but he loves it when you do and never rejects it.

you go for a hug before he leaves for work and he wraps his big arms around you in a bone-crushing hug that makes you want to never pull away and stays on your mind all day.

your hands are cold? he'll hold them till they're warm (lowkey doesn't wanna let go even after they're warmed up, but also doesn't want to come off as clingy so he reluctantly lets go). you feel tired? his shoulder is yours to rest your head on. you want attention when he's playing games? his lap is free for you to come and sit on anytime (plays with your hair or gives back rubs when you're feeling tired).

doesn't mind when you sleep with your head on his chest and wouldn't complain when you keep it that way all night, even if it makes his body sore the next day.

big baby who sulks when you're not being as touchy and follows you around asking questions like, "are you upset?" and "i'm sorry if i did something to make you mad, i promise i'll fix it."

and then you just can't take it anymore so you jump in his arms and smother him with kisses all over his face cause he's the most adorable boyfriend ever.

NICHOLAS

such a tease about it.

like you two would get into a silly argument over something stupid, and then when you go to him for cuddles, he's all like, "can't go a single day without my cuddles, can you sweetheart?" but wraps his arm around you anyways, pulling you closer.

always has his arm around your shoulder or on your lower back, guiding you through crowds or in social gatherings just so that everyone knows that you're the love of his life. it isn't much, but it makes your heart flutter even though he's done it countless times. it's just the effect he has on you.

tries to act nonchalant when he's doing something random and you just come cuddle him or snuggle against him, but inside he's all giddy.

"you know, you're pretty cute when you're all cuddly like this," he says with a smirk, trying to act like his heart isn't beating hard and fast. but you see him go red when you tilt your head to face him and say, "and you're pretty cute when you're not being a tease."

loves loves loves kisses. wants to start his day with one, and if he doesn't get it, turns into a grump until he gets a thousand kisses all over his face.

another one who loves it when you're touchy while the members are around, cause he gets to brag about it later like, "i'm literally dating the best person ever and you're not." (sometimes he has to hold back giggles cause, "aren't you just so adorable.")

EUIJOO

this boy is so clueless at the beginning of the relationship, its endearing. (but also kinda confusing)

when you first wrap your arms around him, he's just standing there awkwardly... he doesn't know what to do with his hands so they're just limp against his side... and his heart is beating so fast cause he adores you so much but doesn't know how to express it so he just ends up embarrassing himself (heart eyes from you but he doesn't notice)

you stop being as touchy, cause maybe he doesn't like it that much. but when he notices that you're distancing yourself he's just like :(( do you not love him anymore :(( are you upset about something :((

asks the members for advice and he gets laughed at (my baby), but probably ends up getting advice from the younger members (i feel like maki gives the best advice second to k)

and when he realises he's like oh!

after dating him for a while he becomes just as affectionate as you, cause if you like it and it makes you happy, he's gonna do it. for you.

also becomes a teeny tiny bit clingy as your relationship progresses, but when confronted about it, he'll strongly deny.

asks for kisses every minute. you ask him to open a jar or reach the top shelf, he'll do it if he gets a kiss in return. you want to know the date? okay, but you'll have to kiss him first.

sulks if he gets less than 10 hugs per day, and the only way to make up to him is hold him while he falls asleep and playing with his hair while placing soft kisses on his forehead. (you gladly do it)

YUMA

another tease. (but is actually more clingy than you)

whenever you hug him, you're immediately met with a smirk on his face and a teasing comment, but also doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you and crushing you between them. (also never pulls away first)

also did i mention how clingy he is? needs to have his arms around all the time, needs kisses whenever you're around him. at some point you get tired of his demands for affection, even though its your love language (no you don't)

would never admit but loves being babied so so much.

turns red when he complains and you coo at him, bonus giggles if you stroke his chin, that boy is down bad for you

needs you to stroke his hair whenever you're hanging around the house. will literally go crazy if you don't do it.

the first time you ran your hands through his hair, his eyes fluttered shut as he sighed at your touch and shit, he was in love.

not big on pda, but holds your hand under tables and in crowds, or just has his arm around your shoulders, tracing circles or playing with your hair.

oh and if you ever tease him back about how he's also a softie for you, no cuddles for you that day!

JO

doesn't hate it. doesn't love it.

would never, i mean never, initiate it. but he's all yours you can do whatever you want with him.

you wanna cuddle? his arms are always open. you wanna nomnomnom his cheeks? uhmm... sure.

your life-sized teddy bear. you can go and hug him, kiss him whenever you want, and he doesn't complain

very awkward at first, but as he gets comfortable around you, presses his cheek against your when you hug him, or nuzzles into your side.

gets all flustered when you hug him from behind, like you can feel him turn to putty in your arms.

if you ever miss any of your routine hugs or kisses, follows you around like a lost puppy all day because hey! you forgot his kiss, and he's sad now

doesn't say a word about it though, cause he's embarassed, but lightly tugs on your clothes to get your attention to the little pout on his face.

and when you just can't resist this pumpkin, you're all over him, smothering him with kisses and hugs and cuddles (and he's fighting for his life when you're doing all of this, cause he doesn't wanna burst into giggles)

HARUA

just like euijoo, also very awkward at first and makes you think does this guy even like me or what?

but in reality, he just adores you very much but doesn't wanna come off as clingy

even brushes (?) your touch off at times, even though he doesn't want but he's just not the best at reciprocating affection

but gets used to it very quick! now he wants a kiss every minute and is always hugging you

does not care if he gets teased by the members, he just wants love

lets you kiss his cheek all you want, cause have you looked at them? they're the softest, plumpest cheeks on the entire planet! (screams when you bite them, though)

asks for kisses every night, cause they help him rest better (rather than helping him sleep, they just leave his heart racing and his cheeks pink)

TAKI

he's also kind of touchy, but when you're affectionate, he turns into a stuttering, blushing mess!

but gets used to it pretty quick and soon he becomes demanding.

you refuse to kiss him cause you're eating? how dare you! you can't take away his kissing rights ˙◠˙

lets you bite him. you can bite his shoulder, his cheek or whatever; he doesn't even flinch.

rather, he bites back. harder.

cuddles with him are the best! cause he's so silly and makes you laugh till you're clutching your sides cause it hurts, but also so loving that the little pillow fights and tickles are followed by the best night's sleep.

kisses you all over your face and hands and neck when you're feeling down, till you're laughing and tell him to stop (he doesn't plan to, though)

the most needy boyfriend ever. always asking for hugs and if you say no (which you never do) he's gonna pull you in, wrap his arms around your waist to pick you up and spin you around till you're giggling.

treats you like his best friend and makes you the happiest person in the world, showers you with all the love and affection you want, because he wants to be the the best boyfriend ever (he already is)

MAKI

hand kisses. neck kisses. shoulder kisses. forehead kisses. nose kisses. sad kisses. happy kisses. angry kisses. sweet kisses. i love you kisses. i miss you kisses. hello kisses. goodbye kisses. rain kisses. beach kisses. sunset kisses. first kisses. hundredth kisses. playful kisses. hot kisses. cold kisses. kisses in the light. kisses in the dark. kisses. kisses. kisses. he just wants kisses.

you like physical touch? not more than him.

hugs. kisses. cuddles. hugs. kisses. cuddles. hugs. kisses. cuddles. that's all he wants his day to be. (all of them only from you, of course)

wraps his arms and legs around you to stop you from getting out of bed and away from him.

loves it when you kiss him to shut him up. as much as this boy loves yapping, he loves kisses more.

presses your cheeks together on cold days and holds your hand inside his pocket to keeps you warm

back hugs. all the time. you just have to face your back towards him, and then within the next few seconds, his arms are around your waist and his neck is chin is resting on your shoulder.

as much as he expresses his love for you by touch and affection, he also expresses the same amount through words. like saying 'i love you' in multiple languages all throughout the day, texting you about everything exciting that happened when you're away, or whenever he thinks of you, whispers sweet nothings to help you fall asleep.

© nicholasluvbot , 2024. // @lune-net

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,�� you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[discodinosaur]

➳ homegrown

↳ the last of us | explicit | joel/reader | 7.2k | AO3 | complete

Summary: It takes three games of darts for you to win your bet against Joel. After much grumbling and cursing you out he agrees to play at the open-mic night. Perhaps this might be the right time to act on your feelings.

Tags: unprotected piv sex | pulling out | oral (f receiving) | no use of y/n | no outbreak | fluff | happy ending | reader is a year or so younger than tommy and tommy's best friend | friends to lovers | oblivious idiots

Note: I've had this idea for months and finally had some time to get it written. I've checked this over so many times but I'm bound to have missed something. - Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡ - link to the song Joel sings. I love this song and just thought it kinda fit.

You didn’t expect the bar to be this packed. 

But in hindsight – yeah, you should have. Not only is it open mic night at the bar but it’s also a Friday, meaning traffic had be awful. So yeah, you should’ve been more prepared. 

You had promised Joel ages ago that you would be here for this. ‘I always thought about singin’’, he’d told you one night. An idea, a bet and three darts games later you turn to him with a glint in your eye, asking for your win to be see him play at the open mic night. He’d griped about it, cursed you out multiple times under his breath while Tommy had laughed, and then, with some reluctance, agreed. But only if you were there to watch. 

Like you’d say not to that. You two of you had been dancing on the ‘will they, won’t they’ iceberg for months. You weren’t even sure if Joel felt that way about you. Even with the lingering touches, the flirtations between the two of you, you didn’t know if it was all just in your own head. 

So here you are. If only you could see or find your friends. Being a head shorter than most people in front of you isn’t helping, you can barely see the stage let alone the table where your friends are. The woman behind the bar you can barely hear over the group of raucous men next to you, repeating yourself four times before she hears you, giving the men a sidelong look as she gets you a lemonade.

Just as you grab your glass there’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn, ready to tell the next guy to at least wait a second. But the words die on your tongue and you let out a relieved sigh at Tommy’s familiar face. You squeeze through the gap, the loud group of men guffawing again and you wince as the sound goes right through you. 

“There y’are!” he exclaims, his hand grabbing yours to guide you through the crowd. You sidle past more groups of people, the crowd thinning the further away from the bar you get. Lemonade spills over the top of your glass, pooling in the gaps of your fingers as you get led over to a small corner booth. 

You greet Maria who gives you a half hug and you raise your glass over to Tess and Frank, the two deep in conversation. You slide into the seat that’s been saved for you between Joel and Tommy, your eyes falling on Bill, who even with his eyes closed looks like he’s ready to leave this place already. 

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you and you turn, your eyes raking over him. Well-worn jeans and a green shirt. Classic Joel. His hair sticking up in different directions from where he’s ran his hand through it one too many times and his eyes burn into yours as you meet his gaze. 

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his lips and then back to his face. His hand wrapped around his beer, bringing it to his lips, seemingly having missed your fleeting look. 

You okay? He mouths around the bottle and you nod quickly, the knuckle of your thumb coming to your mouth to lick off the remaining lemonade. You turn your head to Tommy, missing the way Joel’s throat bobs as he watches your lips.

“I can’t believe you got him to do this,” Tommy says to you, knocking his knee with yours, a glance in his brother’s direction. 

You smile, watching for a moment as he takes a sip of his scotch, ice-clinking gently together. 

“Beginner’s luck. I’m terrible at darts but somehow beat him three times,” you shrug, hiding your grin with your hand. 

Tommy laughs, his head tilting back as his shoulders shake. It’s infectious and you find yourself smiling, leaning into him for a moment, a quiet laugh escaping you. As you look up, you catch Joel’s expression – a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. This time you ignore it as Tommy erupts into another round of laughter at an offhand comment from Maria you don’t quite hear. 

Instead, you watch Joel even after he’s turned away, arm slung over the back of his chair, body twisting in his seat as one of the employees approaches him, gesturing to the stage. Joel points down to the floor and your eyes follow, your heart fluttering when you see his guitar case.

You chance another look at him, the overhead lighting catching on the silver in his hair, shadowing his face. He’s not looking towards you, engrossed in something with Tess and Bill so you take the opportunity to just look. 

You start to think. Think about how close you two have been to a ‘moment’ only for it to be shattered seconds later. How Joel knows you inside out, back to front, better than you know yourself, like a missing limb. 

You’ve never confessed out loud to anyone, not even Tommy. God, even just thinking about his teasing is enough to put you off. He would never let you live it down. It’s enough that he has this weird look on his face whenever you and Joel get a little too close like he knows he’s interrupted something. 

You take a sip of your lemonade, blinking away from Joel only to catch Frank’s eye. You might not have told Tommy but Frank doesn’t miss a thing. He definitely knows, even if he’s never explicitly told you, you just know that he knows. He looks between you and Joel and raises an eyebrow at you as if asking ‘will you finally tell him?’

You shake your head the tiniest amount and glance at Joel again, finding him already watching you. His eyes flash with something. Nerves, probably, you think. It’s almost showtime. 

The lights dim, dousing the room in an intimate shadowy light again and Frank stands moving around the table, a warm hand on your shoulder, a murmur of ‘what drink?’ but you lift your still-full glass and he nods, squeezing your shoulder before leaning down in your peripheral to ask Maria the same question. 

Joel also gets to feet with a loud, exaggerated sigh in your direction and you don’t even hide the smile that creeps onto your face. He picks up his guitar case and spares you one last glance. “Guess that’s m’cue,” he mutters. 

Tommy raises his glass, toasting his retreating back you huff with a laugh, raising yours as the rest of the table follows suit. You clink your glass with Tommy’s and take a long drink, doing anything but looking at Joel preparing himself. 

The same guy from earlier steps onto the little makeshift stage, tapping the microphone already to get everyone’s attention and introduces Joel. You don’t hide the soft smile on your face as Joel dithers in the background, guitar strap over his shoulder as he leans in to hear whatever he’s strumming. 

The guy gestures to the seat for Joel, adjusting the microphone for him. Joel looks over at your table, meeting your eyes for the briefest of seconds and then he’s clasping the fretboard, closing his eyes. 

“Would you calm ya leg? Tommy whispers in your ear, hand on knee where you’ve been subconsciously jiggling your leg in anticipation. 

“No,” you reply, batting his hand away and clutching your glass tight in your hands, the condensation cooling your clammy palms. 

Joel gives a quick hello, tells everyone else why he’s up there, nods over to your table and then his fingers find their chord and he starts with a slow gentle melody. 

“I got a piece of land out in the countryside

Lay back and smell the sun, warm up the Georgia pine

Been so good to me, takin' it easy…”

From the first lyrics, you shake your head in disbelief. Fucker. Of course he plays this one. Whenever Joel plays for you, you always request it but this time it’s slower, like every word is being carved just for you. This time, his voice goes right through you, a juxtaposition of mellow and rough around the edges. 

His eyes find you as he sings the chorus and your breathing hitches. You find that you can’t look away from him – illuminated by the orangey light they have on the stage like a halo. 

“I got some good friends that live down the street

Got a good lookin’ woman with her arms ‘round me

Live in a small town where it feels like home

I got everything I need, and nothin’ that I don’t….” 

Fuck. 

His voice has always made you weak, but now, amplified by the mic and the intensity of his stare, you are just about putty. Strands of his wavy hair fall into his face when he finally looks away from you down at the guitar and you shift in your seat. 

You really need to do something about this crush of yours. 

He sings the last part of the chorus for the final time and your eyes drop to his hands – those fucking hands on his guitar, fingering the fretboard and you look up. You can’t look away until the lights go down around him. 

Everyone around you erupts into applause and you blink away, coming back to your surroundings, joining in and clearing your throat, lost in the noise of appreciation for Joel. 

“Felt like I was intrudin’ on somethin’ towards the end there,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and nudges your knee with his again. You tense your shoulders, heart lurching in your chest, a twist in your stomach. 

“Not that I know what you’re talking about but it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” 

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head, “C’mon, the way you were lookin’ at each other,” he mutters, catching your questioning expression and smirks, “Christ, you didn’t even know I caught you lookin’.”

A reply is on your tongue but luckily for Tommy, Maria pulls him along with her towards the bar and you watch them leave, stewing on your thoughts because he was right. You had been completely unaware of anything going on around you while Joel had sung.

You glance around your table. Bill’s eyes are closed, leaning back against the seat, head lolling onto Frank’s shoulder while his other half is in a heated debate with Tess. You could get involved but you take the moment to try and gather your racing thoughts.  

Until – 

“Jesus, I ain’t ever doin’ that again,” Joel sighs as he slides into the chair beside you, guitar propped against the table next to him. Even with your stomach in knots and a hummingbird in your chest, Joel’s presence is something you need to calm you. 

“Best you don’t lose a bet to me again,” you tease, plastering a smile on your face and he groans, pulling his chair in. You reach out to his arm, your smile becoming genuine, “You were good, Joel. Really good.” 

“Yeah, well. You’re welcome,” he murmurs, leaning in close to you. His hand reaches out for your glass, fingers smearing the condensation. You meet his eyes as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a long sip of your lemonade, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You shiver, a wave of desire coursing through you. And for the second time tonight, you’re transfixed by his eyes. But this is just another dance you two do around each other. He then tilts his head back, downing the rest of your drink, his throat bobbing obscenely and you stand, suddenly too hot. 

“I need another drink,” you say quickly, swallowing hard and brushing past Joel as quickly as you can. The crowd has thinned out a little by now but the bar is still crowded with the regulars and you squeeze into a gap, nodding to a couple of the older guys you recognise. 

The barman holds his fingers up, silently asking you to give him a minute and you nod, grateful for the reprieve. You let out a much-needed sigh, closing your eyes for a moment and composing yourself – Or at least trying to. The barman comes up and you lean on the sticky counter, asking for another lemonade with extra ice. You fumble your phone out of your pocket, getting ready to pay when you freeze in place at the sound of a very familiar voice. 

“Have you actually told her yet?” Frank’s soft voice says to your left, the other side of the older guys and you swallow hard. “Or are you still beating around the bush about it?” 

“It’s hard, Frank,” you hear the sigh in Joel’s voice. “Her and Tommy are fuckin’ inseparable, you know how they are.” 

You strain to try and hear the rest of it – your heart fluttering in your chest, a knot forming in your stomach. 

“Thick as thieves, yeah. But you could argue you and her are close, just in a different way. You know her, Joel. But you’ve gotta tell her soon. You know what Tommy’s like, loves to play matchmaker.” 

You’ve heard enough and quickly pay, thanking the barman before scurrying back to your table. You squeeze between Bill and Tess, the former grunting at you before closing his eyes again.

It takes you a moment in your seat before you’re internally freaking out because Joel seemingly has a thing for you too – what the fuck? 

You pull into Joel’s driveway, Tommy’s glaring headlights flashing at you twice before he turns off down the road. You shut the radio off and cut the engine, turning in your seat to look at Joel. 

“Want to come in for some cards? Maybe a coffee? Night’s still young after all.” 

It manages to pull a laugh from you and you duck your head with a fond smile. It’s an easy question, even if the overheard conversation between him and Frank has been on your mind since you heard them. 

“Sure.” 

Even in the shadowy light of your car, you can still make out that grin of his and he nods once, getting out of the car without another word. You mirror him and smile to yourself before giving yourself a little shake and following him inside. 

Joel’s home always feels warm. 

Helped by the yellow glow of the lamps and the olive green walls reflecting on the warm wood flooring. You kick off your shoes, following Joel through to the kitchen where he’s already got the coffee going. You lean against the counter, watching the muscles in his shoulders ripple under his shirt as he leans up for some mugs. 

“What?” he asks, catching your look with a grin. 

You shake your head, “Nothing, just thinking about my next winning bet.” 

Joel’s chuckle goes right through you, his expression soft as he looks over at you, “Nuh-uh, darlin’. You ain’t doin’ that to me again.” 

He continues to look at you for a moment and squints at you, “And why you standing so far away from me, c’mere.” 

You feel the blush rise on your cheeks and you scoot closer to him. Close enough that you can smell his aftershave. Close enough that you could easily lean your head on his shoulder like he could put an arm around your waist, kiss the side of your head –

“Better?” You ask dryly, pulling yourself out of your own wishful thoughts. 

“Much.” 

The hummingbird rears its head in full force once again. 

“And that’s that,” Joel murmurs, slapping his hand of cards on the table. You kiss your teeth and sigh, showing him your cards left – two threes, a four and a seven. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Which leaves me to believe that you owe me a bet.” 

You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, suddenly feeling a wave of trepidation and nerves come over you. “Oh really? And what do you want to win?” 

Joel runs his tongue over his top lip, leaning in on his elbows with the ghost of a smirk. “Y’know, I think I want a kiss.” 

You baulk, gripping your coffee mug tight between your clammy palms. Surely you had misheard, right? Joel didn’t say kiss. You clear your throat, opening and closing your mouth before you answer. “You… what? You want a kiss from me?” 

“No, a kiss from fuckin’ Santa.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead mirror his movements, leaning on the table, keeping your voice steady. As much as you’re in shock, you can’t not tease him a little bit. 

“And what if I don’t want to?” 

It’s Joel’s turn to clear his throat, meeting your eyes, “Then we pretend this didn’t happen and I ask you instead to buy dinner next time we’re out.” 

You laugh, a breathy sound coming out of your mouth and blink slowly, “Right, right. Which means I’ll also have to pay for Tommy too.” 

Joel groans, leaning back in his hair, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, you’re so invested in fuckin’ Tommy that you can’t see that there’s plenty of other people that wanna spend time with ya.” 

You frown, also leaning back in your chair. “Hey, I spend plenty with you,” you say with a small shrug of your shoulders. 

Joel sighs again and rolls his eyes, “You know that ain’t what I meant.” 

You grin, folding your arms across your chest as you lean back further on the chair, pushing it up onto two legs. “Yeah? I think I know what you meant. I heard Frank at the bat.” 

Joel narrows his eyes and you applaud yourself for the bravery, unsure of where it’s coming from so quickly. You can see the wheels turn in his mind.

“Frank? What the fuck has Frank got–” his eyes widen as it clicks. “Oh. You heard that, huh?” 

You wet your lips and nod slowly, putting on your best Frank voice, “Have you actually told her yet?” Tommy loves to play matchmaker.” 

Joel just stares at you, one eyebrow slightly raised and you carry on back in your normal voice, fit to burst: 

“Well, Tommy has tried to set me up on dates and guess what? Every time I told him no. Call it stupid but all I wanted to do is go on a proper date. With you.” 

You admit the last part quietly and the confession hangs heavy and thick in the air. 

Joel is quiet for a moment, his expression the same as it was. But then he exhales slowly. Panic fills you, wondering if you’ve overstepped, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter – 

“Say it again,” he says quietly, he breathes, fingers on the back of your hand. “That last part.” 

Your chair falls forward onto all four legs, the sound too loud in the silent kitchen and you take a breath, “All I’ve wanted is to go on a proper date with you.” 

Joel’s on you in a flash, lips meeting yours, one hand cradling your cheek. But one kiss isn’t enough for either of you, as soon as he parts from you to breathe, he steals another and another and another from you. 

“Joel,” you murmur and he grunts, moving your lips to trail a hot line of fire down over your jaw and down your neck.

“Yeah, baby? Do you want this?” 

You nod against his shoulder, breathily heavily against his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his belt loops. “You know I do.” 

“Need t’hear you say it proper,” he croaks, pulling back to look at your face, drawing a quiet whine from you. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Let’s go upstairs, baby. I ain’t having my first time with you on the fucking dining table.” 

Joel stands, his knees clicking as he does and you fight back the jab on your tongue but of course, he notices it anyway and kisses you to silence it. 

“Up,” he breathes against your lips and you stand, following him up to his room. 

His room is the same as it always is, cluttered and just that little bit messy. He keeps the door open and follows you back towards the bed, your hand reaching out for him and then he’s kneeling over you, lips finding yours again. 

“Fuckin’ months I’ve been wanting this,” he rasps, “Daren’t do a fuckin’ thing about it.” 

“Why? You should’ve.” 

He huffs a laugh and noses at your cheek, “Yeah. I know that now. But because of my fuckin’ brother. Wasn’t sure how you felt but knew that he would find the whole thing hilarious. Couldn’t humiliate myself in front o’him again.”

You rear back, carding your fingers in his messy hair, twisting it between your fingers. “Funny thing is, I couldn’t talk to Tommy about anything either. I think he knew I was crushin’ on you but I could never outright tell him. Frank knew though. But it looks like we were just oblivious to each other.” 

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” 

You smile softly at him, your hands moving from his hair down his back, feeling the muscle there, to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. He reads you like a book and pulls it off, leaning over you to click the bedside lamp and you rake your eyes over him. 

Even in the lamplight, he’s so fucking hot. 

He cradles your cheek in his large hand and leans closer, pressing his soft lips to yours. You respond instantly and his hand moves lower, thick fingers flexing on your neck and you gasp, lifting your hips at the touch. He’s not even choking you properly and you’re reactive to every single touch. 

“Fuck,” he swears gruffly, “You like that, don’t you?”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. You lift your hips towards him against his already hard cock trapped in his jeans, desperate for some kind of friction against you. You want to feel him in your hands, want to watch how he reacts to your touch. 

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you.” 

You swallow thickly and you sit up properly, pulling your shirt off your head and throwing it to the side. You can feel Joel’s eyes raking over you and you don’t hide yourself away. Your hands cover his as he places his palms on your stomach dragging them up over to cup your breasts through your bra, eliciting a shiver from you. 

He leans in, his beard scratching over your delicate skin as he peppers more kisses over your shoulder while his hands reach around you, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. It takes him a moment – his lips pausing on your collarbone in concentration. 

“Hate these things, how can you even take ‘em off smoothly,” he mutters as you feel it come undone. You hear it hit the floor and then feel his fingers tracing idle patterns over the swell of your breast. 

“Try wearing it every day, you’ll get there then,” you reply in a hushed tone, nudging his cheek with your nose, finding his lips and sliding your tongue along his lips. 

He moans into the kiss, hands palming properly over your breasts, thumbs circling your erect nipples, stealing another breathy whine from you, your back arching into his hands and you’re gone, completely putty in his hands. 

“Fuck,” you grunt as he tugs on a nipple. Joel smirks, wetting his lips and taking the hard bud into his mouth. You squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes, fingers tangling in the back of his hair, twisting the strands at the nape of his neck.“Joel.” 

He nips his teeth on your nipple and you gasp, eyes closing as his tongue swirls a hot, wet circle and pulls away, moving to your other nipple while the cool air on your sensitive bud sends a ripple of desire through you. 

But Joel doesn’t stop. 

Once he’s finished giving the other nipple some attention, he presses you down onto the mattress and continues to kiss open-mouthed over your ribcage, over your stomach down to between your thighs. 

His hands grasp the backs of your legs, dragging you down the bed so he can kneel on the floor. One hand moves to undo the button of your jeans, the drag of the zip and you lift your hips as he pulls them off you one leg at a time. 

“Will you let me taste you, baby? It’s all I can think about,” he says, hands coming to hold your ankles and you find yourself digging your fingers into the mattress, needing something to ground you. 

“Please. I’m yours, Joel.” 

“Fuckin’ right you are,” he growls, a burning hot kiss just above the waistband of your panties. He takes his time, kissing up each of your legs and your heart leaps in your chest. God, this man will ruin you. 

He keeps your legs apart as he drags his lips up your inner thighs, nosing against your damp panties and your fingers tighten on the sheet, a gasp leaving you at the tiniest amount of friction. 

“Christ, you’re soaked. This is what you’ve been keeping from me?” 

“Joel,” you splutter, craving the sweet friction against your clit. 

“How long you been this wet for?” he asks, slowly peeling your panties from you, tossing them to join your other clothes. “Since the bar?” 

“Since… since –fuck – since you were singing.” 

Joel smiles against you, the tips of his fingers trailing feather light over your seam, gathering the wetness there. 

“Like the song, did ya?” 

Another whine leaves you as the heat from his hand is back on your thigh and finally, finally, he gives you something. His nose parts your folds, tongue flattening as he gets his first taste of you and a low moan rumbles through him. 

Your head falls back against the pillow, one hand finding his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. Struggling to keep your eyes open as the pleasure melts through you because holy fuck this man is good at eating you out. 

Joel isn’t exactly quiet – he doesn’t hide the sound of his grunts or the sloppy licks and sucks as he eats you out. You tilt your head down, watching him as he presses himself closer, opening your thighs wider, burying his face there. 

He picks up on what makes you moan or whimper. He likes to alternate, going back to the broad long licks over your clit that have you writhing beneath him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, an obscene wet sound as he laps over your clit, “Can’t believe I’ve let it go on this long without tasting ya.” 

You chance down another look at him, the glow from the lamp catching on his grey strands that are scrunched in your fist and you give an experimental tug, making him moan louder – the vibrations going through you. 

There’s a warm pooling in your stomach as your orgasm fast approaches. Between the obscene sound of Joel devouring you and the way his tongue flicks over you just right you know it won’t be long. You slowly start to rock your hips in time with his tongue, grinding against him. 

Your back arches as you try and hold onto that feeling, not wanting this to be over but you know you won’t win, not this time. 

“Joel,” you gasp, tightening your hold in his hair as you feel the white-hot pleasure flooding through you. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you, atta girl,” he grunts against you, holding your thighs tightly as you wriggle in his grasp. 

“Fuck–Joel.” 

You writhe under him, your thighs clenching around his head as you come. Your head hits the pillow with soft cries, your hand tugging at the threads of his hair as you ride out the high of your climax. Joel works you through it, groaning into your cunt as he laps at the mess you make. 

He rests his head on your thigh and once you’ve caught your breath you lean up on your elbow to get a look at him, shiny lips and chin, dark eyes blown wide with lust and you flop down onto the bed again. 

Then you feel his fingers caressing over you, thumb on your clit massaging small circles and you moan breathlessly as he opens you up. One thick finger sliding in your wetness and stretching you open. 

“Joel,” you breathe, letting out a sigh. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Too much?” he murmurs against your skin, resting his head on your thigh. 

“No, no, not enough–” 

Your eyes roll back as his finger curls and you jolt, gasping for breath. “Fuck!” 

You’ve just come and this man is unrelenting, taking his time to tear you apart piece by piece. 

“Loved seeing you come for me,” he murmurs, pressing small kisses to wherever his lips reach. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” 

He adds a second, stretching you open and you whimper as he deliciously rubs against your soft walls. You rut against his hand, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper – 

“Right there.” 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Is that it?” 

You nod desperately and he encourages you to keep rutting against him, working up your second orgasm. You feel it, wanting more and more of him. Whatever he’ll give you, you’ll eagerly take. 

“Fuckin’ love lookin’ at ya,” he mutters, his eyes droopy and half-lidded. Your lips are slick with saliva and parted, chest heaving and another warm heat coiling in the pit of your stomach again. 

“You gonna come again for me?” 

His thumb flicks over your clit, smearing the slick of your arousal and paying attention to the bundle of nerves. You nod, another whimper catching in your throat as you feel it crescendo over you. 

“Oh fuck!” 

Your second orgasm of the night rips through you. This time, Joel kisses you through it and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s overwhelming and as his hand slows, pulling out of you carefully. 

“Christ,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to look you over. “Think you have one more in you for me?” 

You nod, raking a hand through your hair. “I just need a second,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Joel hovers over you, hands running up and down your sides as you catch your breath and then you slowly lean up on an elbow, your other hand cupping his cheek. 

“C’mere, Texas. You have too many clothes on.” 

You kneel next to him. Now it’s your turn to take your time with him, take him apart piece by piece. Joel’s throat bobs and he lays down beside you and you sit over his thigh. You push your hair that’s falling into your face behind your ear and press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck, testing the waters. 

He sighs, turning his head to the side and you take the invitation to suckle a sweet pink mark onto the hollow of his throat. Your tongue darts out to soothe the mark as you work down. You reach his collarbones, your fingertips dancing over the smattering of dark hair on his chest. 

Joel’s breathing is shaky and you trace over his body until you get to the waistband of his boxers and look up at him. 

He’s already watching you, eyes fixed on yours and he nods once. You shift between his thighs to pull them off and he kicks them off impatiently. For a moment you just gaze at him, taking in the size of his hard, leaking cock already beading with pre-cum.

The sound Joel makes when you wrap your hand around him will stick with you on your lonely nights at home. His eyelids flutter, slick lips parting in a wanton sound between a moan and a sigh as you slowly stroke him. 

You take your time, feeling the heavy weight of him in your hand as he gather the pre-come, using your thumb to coat the tip. You want him in your mouth, your mouth already watering just at the thought. 

Joel’s sounds are enticing, pulling you in. You shift again, tilting your head to take just the tip into your mouth, unable to resist. 

You can’t help but moan around him, your lips stretching around the swollen head of his cock. You hand stroking over the rest of his length – 

“Baby,” he murmurs, tugging at your hair.. “Don’t. I’ll come before we even start.” 

Your eyes flick over his face bathed in the lamplight and he looks wrecked. Kiss-bitten lips parted, his chest heaving and strands of curling hair falling into his face. You pull off him, moving to lay beside him, waiting for his next move. 

He reaches over you, going towards the nightstand and you can’t help yourself. You cup his cheek, titling his head towards you, kissing him again. 

When you part from your kiss, he has one knee on either side of your thighs to find a condom in the drawer. He flips the box over and his head falls back with a sigh. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mutters, closing the drawer with some force, “fucking expired. The fuck does that tell you?” 

You laugh quietly, shaking your head at his apparent distress and reach for his wrist, gently tugging him towards you. “Joel. Come here.” 

“I can run to the gas station,” he tries, evidently not listening to you and you tug his wrist again, kissing along the thin skin over his veins and over your pulse point. 

“Joel,” you say again, sharper than before and he finally looks over at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful but you lean close, kissing his cheek. “Joel,” you whisper in his ear, “I’m on birth control.” 

“I haven’t been with anyone since I last tested. Obviously,” he says, gesturing wildly towards the drawer and you laugh again, louder and kiss him, pulling him close. 

“I haven’t been with anyone either. Kinda had my eyes on you for a while.” 

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell me more about that, sweetheart?” he asks quietly in your ear, making you shiver. “Because I could tell you some things if we’re sharin’. 

“Hmm. I used to think about you,” you tell him as you take hold of his wrist again, guiding him to your leaking slit, moaning quietly as he doesn’t hesitate to find your clit again. “Used to fuck myself, used to wish it was you. I had it bad.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that.”`

“Sure I can if it gets you over here,” you say, a content smile on your face as he starts to kiss up your neck. You just know you’re going to have a mark tomorrow – people will see that Joel Miller has marked you. 

He smiles down at you, lifting your leg as he settles between your thigh, one hand wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with you. He leans in to murmur in your ear. 

“If it hurts, you tell me and we slow down, yeah?” 

You swallow hard and nod, “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” 

Joel hooks two fingers under your chin, looking at you as he pushes into you, just the tip and your eyes widen, mouth parting and one hand clutching his shoulder. 

The times you had thought about this, imagined it in your head all those times you needed to make yourself come, it doesn’t hold a candle to how he really feels in the flesh. And as he slowly bottoms out inside you, there’s only one word to describe how you feel is full. You feel so full and –

“Stop that,” he croaks desperately, forehead falling onto yours. “Jesus.” 

“What?” 

“You—you keep clenchin’, gonna fucking make me come before I even get started.” 

Oh.

He presses you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as his hips roll at a tortuously slow pace. Joel’s thick and each thrust is dizzying, soft grunts leaving you as he kisses over the marks on your neck. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel better than I imagined,” he says against your neck, tilting his head to capture your lips again. 

Together your movements become rougher, the way you wrap your legs around his waist, crossed at the ankles as he thrusts deeper into you. The sounds of the headboard thumping against the wall, the mattress creaking and both your heavy breaths and soft sounds fill the room. 

You want more of him, want to feel him come apart so you slowly start to meet his thrusts, raising your hips and he notices, of course he notices. 

“Up,” he grunts and you obediently lift your hips again. Joel balances on one hand, grabbing a pillow with the other and moving it under your hips. “How’s that?” 

He times a perfectly deep thrust with his question and the answer is ripped from you. You moan, low and raspy at the added sensation and your thighs tighten around his waist. 

“Please,” you whine quietly, teeth finding his shoulder as he fucks you hard and slow into the mattress.

He noses at your neck, your walls fluttering around him on every thrust. After two orgasms already, you won’t last much longer – as much as you don’t want this to end. 

“You're close, ain’t ya?” 

With your nod, he slides a hand down between your bodies and finds your clit with his thumb, massaging fast and hard circles over it, bringing you closer and closer. Satisfied with your reaction, he fucks you faster, his hips slamming against yours, puffs of breath against your neck. 

“Joel, Joel,” you gasp. It’s all too much as you writhe below him and he presses gentle kisses to your neck. “I’m gonna come.” 

“I gotcha, come on, baby. Let go.” 

Your orgasm wracks through you. It tears through you with some force, his name uttered in breathless gasps, your whole body spent. Your tingly with overstimulation, muscles in your legs twitching. Joel’s thrusts are erratic now, his cock pounding into you and then he swiftly pulls out with a grunt, fisting his cock twice, the hot spill of his come splattering your stomach, a moan right into your ear. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, panting hard in your ear and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, his damp forehead against yours. “You’re a marvel, you know that?” 

Even though this man has given you three of your best orgasms, you feel your cheeks heat up at his words and hide your face in his shoulder. He laughs, pressing small, innocent kisses to your temple. 

“What? I’m just telling ya the truth.” 

His weight moves off you, falling beside you onto the pillow and he grunts, finding his breath again. You turn your head onto the pillow, your eyes are heavy as you hear Joel move around in his room, the sound of a tap running and then the mattress dips beside you again. . 

“Stay?” Joel asks you quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe your thighs and stomach with a warm cloth and you trail your fingers over his arm, nodding gently. 

“Like I’d rather be anywhere else,” you murmur, a small smile pulling at your lips. Your three orgasms start to catch with you and you let him clean you up. 

He gives you an almost shy smile and you look at him in the lamplight. He moves, tossing the cloth into the laundry basket and digs around in his drawer, pressing a soft shirt into your hands and blinking at him tiredly, a frown forming on your face in confusion. 

“To sleep in,” he says, kissing the crease in your forehead. 

You nod, pulling it on and it pools around your waist from where you’re sat. It smells like Joel, the cotton soft and well-worn. He slides into bed next to you, clicks off the light and you shuffle back against his chest - something that he easily adapts to by rubbing his hand over your thigh in a gentle caress. 

When you wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Joel’s face tucked into your neck, his beard bristling against you, almost tickling you and his snores are oddly comforting. You managed to move your arm without waking him, curling around his neck to play with the strands of hair as the sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains. 

You know the moment Joel wakes up: his hands gently squeeze you, his breathing heavier, and he mumbles against your shoulder, slowly joining the waking world. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask him softly. Your fingers curl in his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“No,” he mumbles, “C’mere.” 

He gently tugs you closer, a warm hand sliding up your side as you settle against him, a small sigh leaving your lips. 

His lips find your shoulder, a small kiss planted and another as he trails them up your collarbones, over your throat and finally settles against your lips. 

“What a way to wake up. You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, voice sleep thick and rough. His lips find yours again and again. “Let me make you breakfast.” 

“I’d rather you stay right here,” you mumble, basking in his embrace. “At least for another five minutes.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, honey,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear and your eyes close, a soft smile on your lips. 

Warmth blooms in your chest at the term of endearment and you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. Joel tilts his head down and captures yours in a tender, soft kiss. When you part, he’s got a look in his eye that has you tilting your head and you brush your fingertips through his messy, bed-ridden hair. 

“I like this,” you comment, smiling as his hair flops back onto his forehead.

“My hair or this?” he asks sleepily, closing his eyes and you can’t help but kiss him again. 

“Both.” 

Joel’s laugh vibrates against you from where his head is tucked into your shoulder – a low, rough rumble that’s thick with the dregs of sleep. His thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles on your waist and his breathing soon evens out as he falls back asleep. 

When you do eventually make it downstairs, Joel goes straight for his coffee machine, leaning up to grab two mugs from the cupboard and you don’t stop yourself from staring at the rippling muscles in his back. You lean against the counter, arms folded across your chest as you just take him in. 

He’s gone shirtless, his hair mussed from sleep and from your hands. He doesn’t catch you staring just yet, muttering to himself as the machine beeps at him for water. You could picture this happening more often, and while that thought should terrify you, it’s Joel. 

It’s always been Joel. 

You wouldn’t dance around anyone like this. 

“Here,” he says, eyes glittering with a soft smile and you match his smile, brought out of your thoughts by the smell of fresh coffee. 

Joel’s fingers linger on your as he passes you the mug of coffee and you can’t help but notice it’s in his owl mug, the one you’ve seen him use so many times before. You don’t know why but it warms your heart that he’s sharing this with you. You smile at him, the morning breeze floating in through the open window. 

Yeah, you could get used to this.